How have the theories of Carl Von Clausewitz and/or Henri Jomini influenced the birth of combined arms warfare? In your conclusion, suggest the significance to today’s military professional.

Writing_Req xReadings xThe_Argumentative_Essay Tips_for_Writing_History_Essays Documentation_Guide jomini rise_of_napoleon ST_22-2_1Jan2020 Creating_a_Sentence_Outline jomini_and_clausewitz napoleons_generalship_reconsidered huber_clausewitz introductory_material_to_summary luvaas Concise_Style_Guide frederick_the_great summary_art_of_war_excerpts koeniggraetz 1812_campaign napoleon_and_maneuver_warfare

 This is a two-page sentence outline that will lead to a five-page paper. There are two Essay questions to choose from. I like the first one which I have highlighted in the word document titled Writing_Req but either one is okay. I have attached another word document titled Readings which has some of the books required for the course. They may be useful to write an argumentative essay. Please be sure to review all the attachments as there are specific requirements for this assignment. 

Thereare two (2) writing submissions required. A description of the assignments is available below. These assignments will assess your critical and creative thinking skills, written communication skills, and most importantly, your ability to demonstrate mastery of the H100 course material.

(A) Sentence Outline Guidance

Your outline will be two (2) pages in length. Use 12-point Times New Roman and one-inch margins. Single-space the sentences in the outline; double-space between paragraphs.

Prior to writing your essay, you will write an outline of your response to the essay question you plan to answer for your argumentative essay. Your outline will include an attention step, the thesis, major points of evidence, supporting points of evidence, and a conclusion. Your outline will provide clear detail about what you plan to write in your argumentative essay. DO NOT include a title page with your outline. DO NOT include footnotes, endnotes or a bibliography in the outline.

Paragraph C lists the topics for the outline and essay.

The outline is graded as pass/fail. Creating a Sentence Outline for specific instructions on creating a sentence outline. Creating a Sentence Outline also contains two example outlines for your reference.

*****IMPORTANT CONSIDERATIONS****

THIS IS A HISTORICAL ANALYSIS AND NOT CURRENT AFFAIRS

(B) Argumentative Essay

Your essay will be five (5) pages in length. The essay must be double-spaced and use 12-point Times New Roman font and one-inch margins. The page total does not include the title page, footnotes (endnotes), or the bibliography. It is important to use the military writing style in crafting a convincing argument using the essay format. You will answer ONE (1) of the essay questions listed below in Paragraph C.

The argumentative essay will conform to the writing standards found in:

· Concise Style Guide

· Documentation Guide

· Tips for Writing History Essays

· The Argumentative Essay

· Creating a Sentence Outline

· ST 22-2 Leader Communication (March 2016)

Your essay
MUST include
a title page, documentation (endnotes or footnotes), and a bibliography. Always cite your sources. If something is not your original thought, you need to cite your source using either footnotes or endnotes IAW the Turabian style of documentation; do not use parenthetical citations. This includes direct quotations, paraphrases, and summaries of the assigned readings, doctrinal references (see Annex A). Refer to ST 22-2 for guidance about citations and footnotes. You may also refer to A Manual for Writers of Research Papers, Theses, and Dissertations (8th edition).

*****IMPORTANT CONSIDERATIONS****

You
MUST include
the entire question you are answering, as written below in paragraph C, on your title page. THIS IS A HISTORY PAPER. We will assess your ability to use history as a tool for informing professional judgment, which is one of the terminal learning objectives for the block.

(C) Essay Question

Choose
ONE
(1) of the following two topics for your outline and essay.

1. How have the theories of Carl Von Clausewitz and/or Henri Jomini influenced the birth of combined arms warfare? In your conclusion, suggest the significance to today’s military professional.

2. Which Military Revolution (MR*) has had the greatest impact on the birth of combined arms warfare? In your conclusion, suggest the significance to today’s military professional.

*Pick one of the five Military Revolutions as defined by Knox and Murray in The Dynamics of Millitary Revolution 1

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00-2050.

*****IMPORTANT CONSIDERATIONS****

To do well on the writing assignments, you must do the following:

1. Receive a “pass” on your outline prior to beginning work on the essay.

2. Use the faculty feedback for the outline to make your essay a better product.

3. The essay is worth 60% of the block grade, and
providing evidence in your writing is a KEY REQUIREMENT
.

4. Make sure you are answering the question being asked. Read the question
THROUGHLY
.

5. Do not provide a simple summation to the question. You must write an argumentative essay, and hence argue your point of view supported by specific examples and/or theory from the block of lessons.

6. Demonstrate your ability to use history as a tool for informing military judgment.

7. Use the Turabian style of documentation to cite your sources. Use either footnotes or endnotes; DO NOT use parenthetical citations.

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Knox, MacGregor, and Williamson Murray, eds. “Thinking about revolutions in warfare.” In The Dynamics of Military Revolution, 1300–2050, 1-14. New York: Cambridge University Press, 2001. [14 pages]

Parker, Geoffrey, ed. “The Western Way of War.” In The Cambridge History of Warfare, 1–11. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, 2005. [11 pages], OR Parker, Geoffrey, ed. “The Western Way of War.” In The Cambridge Illustrated History of Warfare, 2–9. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, 1995. [8 pages]

Rothenberg, Gunther E. “Maurice of Nassau, Gustavus Adolphus, Raimondo Montecuccoli, and the ‘Military Revolution’ of the Seventeenth Century.” In Makers of Modern Strategy from Machiavelli to the Nuclear Age, edited by Peter Paret, 32–55. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1986. [24 pages]

Palmer, R. R. “Frederick the Great, Guibert, Bülow: From Dynastic to National War.” In Makers of Modern Strategy from Machiavelli to the Nuclear Age, edited by Peter Paret, 91–105. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1986. [15 pages]

Lynn, John A. “Forging the Western army in seventeenth-century France.” In The Dynamics of Military Revolution, 1300–2050, edited by MacGregor Knox and Williamson Murray, 35–56. [22 pages]

Guerlac, Henry. “Vauban: The Impact of Science on War.” In Makers of Modern Strategy from Machiavelli to the Nuclear Age, edited by Peter Paret, 64–90. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1986. [27 pages]

Paret, Peter. “Napoleon and the Revolution in War.” In Makers of Modern Strategy from Machiavelli to the Nuclear Age, 134-42. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1986. [9 pages]

Lynn, John A. “Nations in Arms, 1763–1815.” In The Cambridge History of Warfare, edited by Geoffrey Parker, 205–216. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, 2005. [12 pages]

Lynn, John A. “Nations in Arms, 1763–1815.” In The Cambridge Illustrated History of Warfare, edited by Geoffrey Parker, 204–213. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, 1995. [10 pages]

The Argumentative Essay

An argumentative essay seeks to prove and illustrate an idea or theory. Obviously, briefings are
important, but key positions require one to relate information to a larger and in some cases more
sophisticated audience.

Answer a specific question from a list of topics in the evaluation plan. Examine those questions with care
several months before the paper’s due date. Topical questions from the evaluation plan are not
necessarily the topic statement. As indicated in Annex C, “Tips for Writing History Essays,” a challenge
is keeping the paper concise and within the page limits. Organization is important.

Begin with a clearly stated thesis (the point to prove) in the introduction and use the body of the paper to
construct the argument. Rationally build the case, leading to a conclusion consistent with the thesis
without repeating that thesis word-for-word. Avoid using information or comments not directly
supporting the thesis.

In general, devote one paragraph to one idea. Arrange sentences in logical order from most to least
important. Strive, however, to connect paragraphs with transition sentences. Build each paragraph around
a strong topic sentence informing the reader what the paragraph contains so that it contributes to the
thesis. For additional information and guidance, consult ST 22-2 as well as The Elements of Style by
William Strunk Jr. and E. B. White.

A history paper must contain proper footnotes or endnotes. (For examples, see Kate L. Turabian’s A
Manual for Writers of Research Papers, Theses, and Dissertations [eighth edition]). The abbreviated
style of putting the source and page number within parentheses in the text (parenthetical documentation)
is unacceptable. As a reminder, every direct quotation requires a footnote/endnote in order to properly
identify and credit the source. Use direct quotations sparingly, generally to add special emphasis to a
point. However, be judicious. Using direct quotations from secondary sources rarely adds to the strength
of an argument. Stringing together direct quotations is seldom effective and distracts from the paper’s
purpose. A more effective technique is summarizing ideas and information within a paragraph and then
inserting a footnote/endnote to direct the reader to the source. Use footnotes/endnotes to provide more
depth or explanatory information that otherwise would interrupt the flow of the paragraph. Including
several sources within the same footnote/endnote is acceptable.

• US ARMY COMMAND AND GENERAL STAFF COLLEGE
• US Army Command and General Staff School
• Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC) Common Core
• H100: Rise of the Western Way of War Parallel Block
• Annex D

The Argumentative Essay

Tips for Writing History Essays

A good historical essay argues a point. The author asserts a position (thesis), offers evidence in support,
accounts for opposing facts and opinions, and ends with a conclusion that restates the thesis. Use the
writing “tips” below to start. For more in-depth reference, refer to The Elements of Style by William
Strunk Jr. and E. B. White.

1. Use verbs in simple past tense in active mode (he went, she thought, etc.). Passive voice fulfills a
need sometimes. Yet, as a rule, writers should use active verbs for greater clarity and precision. To write,
“Napoleon was surprised at the Battle of Waterloo” is factually correct. However, an active verb
expresses a more complete thought: “The arrival of the Prussian army surprised Napoleon.”

2. Avoid jargon and slang. Do not use unofficial abbreviations, such as “WWI” for World War I.

3. Use quotations judiciously, particularly in short papers. It is possible and usually preferable to write
the paper without any quotations. Remember, a history essay assesses the student’s writing skills.

a. Single-space and indent quotations that are five lines and longer, without quotation marks.

b. Introduce a person into the text by full name and title or position at first mention. For example—
Entertainment editor Eddie Izzard observed, “France does not have any stand-up comedians.”

4. Extensive stringing together of loosely paraphrased sentences is unacceptable. Citing references
protects the writer from a charge of plagiarism but not from an assessment of failing to analyze the
material. Demonstrate the student’s writing and analytical skills, not those of another author. Use direct
quotations or preferably the student’s own words to articulate someone else’s position.

5. Keep papers within length guidelines. Be succinct.

6. Times New Roman, 12-point font is standard for formal paper submissions. Double-space all papers
unless told otherwise.

7. Italicize and, if necessary, define foreign words, ship names, book titles, journal titles, etc. Enclose
the titles of chapters within a book or articles within a journal with quotation marks.

8. Rewriting creates clarity. Proofread carefully. Spell check and grammar check programs do not
identify correctly spelled words used incorrectly. Let time pass before re-reading the work. Read the
essay aloud; if a word, phrase, or sentence appears awkward, revise. If pressed for time, ask someone else
to read it aloud. Reduce wordiness.

9. The student can write an “A” paper based on mandatory course readings. Outside research is
permitted; sources must be reliable and given credit. Be careful about Internet sources. If in doubt, ask the
instructor.

10. On the title page, include the student’s name, student number, staff group, date, and course title. The
page total does not include the title page, footnotes (endnotes), or the bibliography.

11. Use either chronological or topical organization. Usually a chronological discussion works better.
Outlines help to enhance logical presentation.

12. Clear transitions between topics signal change. Avoid the overuse of subheadings.

13. Topic sentences are important. If a sentence does not relate to the first sentence of a particular
paragraph, change the topic sentence or move the statement to another paragraph.

14. Avoid overuse of a word or phrase. Consult a dictionary or thesaurus for appropriate synonyms.
There are two exceptions: when the exact word is necessary for clarity or no other word conveys the same
idea; and when an author repeats the same word or phrase for dramatic emphasis.

15. A paragraph consists of at least three sentences. Vary sentence structure and length.

16. Follow subject-verb agreement. A singular subject takes a singular verb. A plural subject takes a
plural verb.

17. Use connections such as “however,” “yet,” “unfortunately,” “rather,” “on the contrary,” etc., to signal
a change in the direction of the argument and/or contrasting ideas.

18. Identify speakers, authors, actors, and new terms in the narrative. When introducing a new actor, the
first reference should include first and last name as well as job position. Any subsequent reference should
give last name only. When introducing a specific term or abbreviation, define clearly or spell out fully.
Subsequent references consist of the term itself or the abbreviated form.

Examples:

First reference: Second reference:
historian John Keegan Keegan
Operation ENDURING FREEDOM (OEF) OEF

19. Avoid first person and qualified statements.

20. The conclusion should summarize the student’s argument but NOT repeat the introduction word-for-
word.

21. Commonly noted problems in history essays:

No thesis or introduction

Failure to follow essay format
Disregard for rules of style and grammar
Lack of authority (use of first person or unnecessarily qualified statements)
Flaw in organization (logical development)
No bottom line up front (BLUF) or weak topic sentences
Weak conclusions (no restatement of thesis, summary of evidence, and/or lack of significance)

• US ARMY COMMAND AND GENERAL STAFF COLLEGE
• US Army Command and General Staff School
• Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC) Common Core
• H100: Rise of the Western Way of War Parallel Block
• Annex C

Tips for Writing History Essays
No thesis or introduction

Documentation Guide

Endnotes and footnotes serve three important purposes: (1) to give credit to those who contributed to the
development of the author’s ideas and argument; (2) to enable the reader to locate the source of material
they find particularly interesting, insightful, or controversial; and (3) to add credibility to the author’s
argument by showing that an assertion of fact or an idea is based on reliable scholarship. All three
purposes are important, but giving credit to sources is the most important function of endnotes and
footnotes, and the omission or improper use of endnotes and footnotes is the fastest way to undermine
scholarly credibility.

When to use footnotes or endnotes:

1. When quoting directly from a book, article, speech, or online source (DMH encourages very
limited use of direct quotations in written assignments. Assigned essays are intended to assess the
student’s expressive ability, not for copying the prose of some professional author or speaker.)

2. When paraphrasing from another work

Example:

[Original] “Seeckt’s decisions in 1919 and 1920 played an essential role in creating an
organization that could innovate within the realistic parameters of technology and tactical
doctrine.”

[Bad paraphrase] “Seeckt’s decisions right after World War I played a key role in creating an
organization that could innovate within the realistic parameters of technology and tactical
doctrine.” [This is too close to the original, copying the basic structure of the original while
changing only a handful of words.]

[Good paraphrase]“More than any other figure, Hans von Seeckt created an organizational
environment that encouraged realism in the development of new weapons and doctrine.” [This
sentence captures the original idea while putting it in original language and sentence structure.]

For more guidance on paraphrasing see:
http://gethelp.library.upenn.edu/PORT/documentation/paraphrase.html (accessed 23 February
2017)

3. When using a fact or idea that is not common knowledge and that has been taken from a book,
article, speech, or online source

Example of common knowledge: The capital of the United States is Washington, DC.

Example of an idea that is not common knowledge: Hans von Seeckt established the intellectual
climate that made the development of German mechanized doctrine possible during the interwar
period. (General von Seeckt is not a figure well known outside scholarly circles and his exact role
in the development of the German panzer force is subject to debate. An endnote or footnote is
appropriate here.)

A typical CGSOC paper will have three or four footnotes or endnotes per page and, in many
cases, will need one or more footnotes per paragraph. As a general rule, a three- to five-page
paper that has only one or two footnotes is probably not adequately documented. When in doubt,
use a footnote or endnote to indicate the source of a fact or idea that is important to the argument.

For more examples of correct scholarly documentation, check professional periodicals such as Joint
Force Quarterly, Parameters (from the US Army War College), or Military Review.

For guidance on appropriate formats for endnotes, footnotes, and bibliographies, see Annex A.

http://gethelp.library.upenn.edu/PORT/documentation/paraphrase.html

Jomini

by Thomas M. Huber

Although serious military thinkers today are more likely to refer to Clausewitz, in the Napoleonic age
itself Antoine de Jomini was more likely to have that distinction. It is probably fair to say that in general
Clausewitz addressed the political and strategic levels of war and Jomini addressed the operational level.
The two were born only a year apart. They held similar staff-officer positions in the Napoleonic wars,
albeit in different armies. Jomini was by far the more celebrated thinker in his own lifetime.

Jomini was born in

1

779 to a mercantile family in Switzerland and spent his youth working as an
apprentice clerk in banking and commercial establishments in Switzerland and later in Paris. From the
beginning of his career Jomini was preoccupied with military history and the military art. He read avidly
about the campaigns of Frederick the Great in order to discover his methods and was especially
influenced by Henry Lloyd’s historical accounts of Frederick’s campaigns. In 1805 Jomini published his
famous Treatise on Grand Military Operations based on Frederick’s campaigns. (Note that Jomini had
acquired the essential principles of Napoleon’s methods the same way Napoleon had acquired them, by a
close analysis of Frederick.) Jomini showed the manuscript to Marshal Michel Ney and was accepted by
Ney as an unpaid volunteer member of his staff during the Ulm campaign. After Austerlitz Jomini
managed to get a copy of his work to Napoleon himself. At first Napoleon was alarmed that a book that
perfectly revealed his system had been published so that anyone who wished could see it. Upon
reflection, however, he became calmer and noted that old commanders would never read it and that
young officers who might read it did not command.

Napoleon, impressed by Jomini’s service to Ney and with his manuscript, commissioned Jomini as a
colonel in the French army and assigned him to Marshal Ney’s staff. Napoleon drew Jomini onto his own
staff for the Jena and Eylau campaigns of 1806 and 1807. Jomini won the Cross of the Legion of Honor
for his service at Eylau. After Friedland Napoleon made Jomini Ney’s chief of staff, and Jomini
accompanied Ney to Spain. There Ney, influenced by staff officers who were alienated from Jomini,
asked for his reassignment. At this point, Napoleon intervened and promoted Jomini to brigadier general
and stationed him in Paris with the assignment of writing a history of the revolutionary wars and of
Napoleon’s Italian campaigns. Jomini took part in the Russian campaign of 181

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, mostly in rear area staff
capacities, such as military governor of Smolensk. Jomini served as Ney’s chief of staff again in the
south German campaigns of 1813, and after Bautzen, Ney recommended him for promotion to major
general. Berthier, Napoleon’s chief of staff, who had always disliked Jomini, at this point instead of
promoting him ordered his arrest for failing to submit certain reports. Jomini was so dismayed by the
unfairness of this that he resigned from the French army and accepted a commission in the Russian
service. He held a Russian commission, albeit mostly inactive, for the next fifty-six years and was
eventually promoted to the rank of lieutenant general. He retired to Switzerland temporarily rather than
take part in the allied campaigns on French soil in 1814 and 1815. He later served as head of the
committee to found the Russian Military Academy and advised the czar during the Crimean War of
1853–56. He advised Napoleon III at the time of his campaign in Italy in 1859.

1

Jomini’s thought was popular in his own day, and in various forms, it is popular still. Jomini’s
approach to war was in extreme contrast to Clausewitz’s. Clausewitz served in an army that until 1813
always lost. His vision of war was skeptical and brooding. He saw war as balky, irrational, and always
threatening to escape control. For Clausewitz war was tragic, and Clausewitz is associated by some
observers with the romantic tradition that emerged in philosophy and art after 1815. Clausewitz always
lost, and he tried to explain why war was so hard.

Jomini, except for 1812, always won, and he tried to explain why war was so easy. His view of war
was optimistic and rational. He saw war as subject to certain unchanging rules that anyone could master.
For him war was heroic though one might also be tempted to say prosaic. Jomini is associated by some
observers with the rational Enlightenment tradition of philosophy that prevailed prior to 1815.

Jomini’s ideas really were not a theory of war: they were a theory of deployment. Jomini has been
accused from time to time of merely offering a cookbook of war; this by persons who do not reflect on
how extraordinarily useful a cookbook may be. His basic ideas, many of them influenced by his reading
of Henry Lloyd, include interior and exterior lines, the decisive point, concentration of strength against
weakness, annihilation of the enemy force, the primary importance of the offensive, surprise, and the
potentially decisive role of logistics. The essential object of all this was to win a favorable result through
the concentration of strength against weakness. Jomini felt these were fundamental, almost mathematical,
principles of war and that they were good for all time.

It is important to remember what Jomini is and what Jomini is not. Almost all of his work answers
one question: how does one deploy units successfully in the main battle? For officers who must answer
this question, Jomini’s ideas, the Principles of War, are extremely useful and extremely important. For
officers trying to answer any other questions, Jomini is not so useful. A cookbook is all-important for
cooks but not very helpful for anyone else. There is almost no treatment of politics, no strategy, no
technological change, no strategic resource base, no psychology, no people’s war, no adversary, and
indeed no unexpected adversity in Jomini’s work. The operator must remember that while the Principles
of War are an essential tool, they are likely to be only one of the many tools he needs for victory.

Jomini’s views were absorbed by Dennis Hart Mahan into the curriculum of the then fledgling United
States Military Academy in 1830, where Civil War leaders on both sides learned them. They have become
part of the training of the U.S. Army today in the form of the Principles of War, which may be thought of
as merely Jomini writ short. Most modern services today teach these principles in some form. Jomini as
the classical theorist of deployment has had enormous influence on modern ground services, but Jomini
would also influence later theorists of naval and air deployment in the use of technologies that in Jomini’s
day had not yet been imagined. As we shall see later on, Alfred Thayer Mahan, Giulio Douhet, and
Bernard Brodie would eventually apply some of Jomini’s basic ideas to naval warfare, air warfare, and
nuclear warfare respectively.

The readings for this lesson are drawn from Jomini’s Summary of the Art of War of 1838, and from
Jomini’s introduction to the Summary. In these essays Jomini is trying to answer the challenge posed by
Clausewitz’s On War of 1832. He is paddling hard to make his philosophy broader, more complex, more
qualified, to maintain his credibility in the presence of Clausewitz’s new perspectives. In Jomini’s
comprehensive treatise of 1838, rather defensive in tone, we see Jomini at his best, or rather better than
his best. In his earlier work, Jomini was usually more mechanistic and more simplistic in his views of war
than here.

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The Rise of Napoleon

by Thomas M. Huber

Most of what we think of as modern military organization emerged in a paroxysm of conflict that
rocked western Europe for twenty-four years from 1792 to 1815: the Napoleonic Wars. Some of the
features of modern warfare were already present in Frederick the Great’s day—standing professional
armies, an educated officer corps, modern ranks, and standardized regimental formations funded by the
bureaucratic state. By 1815 many other organizational features had been developed for western European
armies that made them essentially similar in function and concept to armies today. Most of the major
organizational features of modern armies had emerged by 1815. Few have emerged since.

Let us consider what these amazing, rapidly evolved changes were. The French Revolution, 1789–
91, transformed armies from being dynastic, private armies, as they had been in Frederick’s day, to being
national, public armies. All French regiments ceased to be the private property of monarchs and
regimental colonels and became the property of the nation. All citizens were eligible for all ranks in
careers open to talent. All funds, orders, and regulations were now to come from the people’s elected
representatives and from them only. In sum, the army no longer served the king; it served the nation. The
impact of these changes was colossal. Since the army now served the nation, unprecedented resources,
funds, and troops flowed reliably into the army. Moreover, soldiers at all levels considered the army as
their own and were more loyal to it. Ideological loyalties to the nation and to the army that served it,
almost nonexistent in Frederick’s day, were suddenly heightened. Democracy was the ultimate force
multiplier.

With a new abundance of resources, forces grew rapidly, from 180,000 troops in the Bourbon armies
of 1789 to over a million by 1794. The fabulous new resources not only permitted a fabulous new
organization; they absolutely required it. How were the nation’s leaders to efficiently deploy—and
supply—over one million troops dispersed in theaters hundreds of miles apart? It was a question that had
never been asked before because such resources had never existed before. It was not a hypothetical
question; the survival of the French nation urgently depended on its leaders finding an answer. The
answer, needless to say—an answer that is still very much with us—was modern strategic organization:
a system that was fully nationally funded, that enjoyed multilevel staffing and planning, and in which
many specialized agencies were coordinated to serve one shared national purpose. In sum, this was a
system that depended on centralized command and decentralized execution. The French Revolution
invented modern strategic organization.

What does this mean? In Frederick’s army fifteen regiments lined up abreast, commanded by the
monarch. The regiment (or sometimes one of the two fire battalions that composed a regiment) was the
only maneuver unit. There was no military organization except regimental organization (and, of course,
some provisions made in the royal state to accommodate regimental organization). All this changed
rapidly between 1789 and 1804. New standard formations emerged above the regiment: brigade,

division, corps, army. Each of these echelons had its own commander and staff and all the diverse
resources needed for its mission. The corps contained all three arms and, although now a standard
formation, was fairly similar in both size and composition to one of Frederick’s ad hoc field armies.
Multilevel staffing, plus self-sufficiency, plus loyal personnel at all levels profoundly increased the
possibilities for command and control. Napoleon’s intention, expressed in a few words, would now
mobilize a corps of 30,000 troops, working in autonomous and complex ways at several levels and
relying on their own best judgment and experience for the common strategic purpose. The upshot was that
Napoleon could control seven corps on the field more easily than Frederick could control one.

Napoleon, invading Russia in 1812, added one more echelon, the army group, whereby one
commander controlled a half million troops. Formations of this scale would only rarely be exceeded in
modern times. When they have been exceeded, in Russia in 1941 to 1945 for example, this has happened
through each side merely adding an echelon or two, but still relying on essentially the same Napoleonic
principles of self-sufficient, multi-echelon organization.

Multi-echelon strategic organization, something we take for granted in modern armies, emerged
rapidly between 1789 and 1815. In its basic concept at least modern military organization has not changed
much. Some other major institutional innovations were adopted by modern ground forces between 1815
and 1914, namely the general staff, the hierarchy of professional military schools, and the short-service
rotational training army. These remarkable inventions, too, first were developed between 1789 and 1815,
not by the French but by the Prussian army as it tried to cope with the enormity of the French challenge.
Basic modern military organization at the company level and above was invented between 1789 and 1815
and has not changed fundamentally since. In the history of modern war, modern strategic organization has
spread steadily since 1815, first among the Western powers, and eventually among scores of non-Western
powers around the world. Almost all of the basic methods resorted to in this proliferation were already
understood and employed in Napoleonic warfare by 1815, however. There have been several revolutions
in technology and tactics since 1815, and these will no doubt continue, but even these enormous tactical
changes seem not to have affected the basic principles of military organization much, especially at
company level and above. Since 1815 there has been an abundant dissemination and refinement of the
principles of modern military organization, but it is difficult to find any truly new principle that has
emerged since 1815.

In any case the new French military organization of the 1790s, new in its political purpose and new in
its fundamental structure, that came out of the French Revolution offered Napoleon a superb instrument.
Prior to 1812 strategically organized national armies gave Napoleon a decisive advantage over his
adversaries because his adversaries did not have such an army. Napoleon used this lever to the maximum
to impose his will on other powers from 1805 to 1812. His diplomacy, which required absolute
compliance, was enforced by armies that achieved quick, overwhelming victories at Austerlitz (against
Austria and Russia, 1805), at Jena, (against Prussia, 1806), and at Friedland (against Russia, 1807).
Napoleon was an effective operator of the new strategic force, adept at motivating both individuals and
units, at deploying his forces, and at logistical support. He was probably the model for Clausewitz’s
military “genius.”

Unique possession of a categorically superior force allowed Napoleon to impose a startlingly dynamic
new diplomacy, albeit only for a few years. (Napoleon had lost his decisive advantage by 1813 because
his adversaries had begun using the same methods Napoleon had taught them in the hardest of schools.)
Let us consider what the new ways meant at lower levels of implementation. In fact, the new kind of force
would make for more effective performance at every level. For strategic approach, Napoleon was able to
use the bataillon carre’, a formation whereby different corps moved forward abreast along parallel

roads flung across a 120-mile front. Foes could not easily maneuver out of the way of this advancing 120-
mile front. This system allowed Napoleon to do something Frederick’s armies could never do—to force
engagement.

Once in the vicinity of the opposing force, Napoleon used the principle of concentration and mass to
overwhelm his adversary. The essence of this method was to use the bulk of his own force to destroy
isolated parts of the enemy force before they could unite. This required superior mobility and agility,
which, of course, Napoleon had. Napoleon’s skill at this aspect of warfare was probably unmatched while
he was at his height. (We will examine the classical principles of Napoleonic warfare more systematically
in a subsequent lesson on the Napoleonic theorist Antoine de Jomini.)

Once battle was engaged, Napoleon had the benefit of two new tactical formations developed by
revolutionary armies in 1792 to 1794. One of these was the use of skirmishers. A company of troops
would be deployed forward to fire individually from cover on the formed-up enemy line. In the
revolutionary armies, any troops could be trusted to do this. In Frederick’s armies, infantry asked to do
this would often go to ground or abscond. The other revolutionary formation Napoleon incorporated was
the assault column. Revolutionary armies, short on training but long on manpower, assaulted in a mass
formation rather than in line. Napoleon retained this assault column capability and often used it to
advantage.

Napoleon, once engaged, liked to extend his lines until the enemy had all his assets engaged. Then
Napoleon would attack a flank, forcing his adversary to thin his line somewhere to assemble the force
needed to repel the flank attack. Napoleon would then drive a heavy force, the force de rupture, through
the part of the enemy line that had been thinned, which was usually the part of the line closest to the
attacked flank. Napoleon, an artillerist and a master of combined arms, also used sequenced attacks by
different arms to break a line. He attacked with heavy cavalry, compelling the enemy to draw his line into
squares. Once this was done, Napoleon would pull the cavalry back and send artillery or infantry forward
to pound the compact formations with fire. The squares then had to open back out into line to bring their
full firepower to bear on the advancing Napoleonic artillery or infantry. Napoleon repeated this exercise
until a gap appeared in the enemy line, which prompted him to dispatch, again, the force de rupture. Use
of combined arms in this aggressive way, using closely sequenced attacks, was new on the Napoleonic
battlefield, and prior to 1813 only Napoleon’s armies could execute such attacks. Napoleonic methods
represented the ultimate development of musket-line warfare.

The use of loyal national armies gave Napoleon important logistical advantages over his adversaries.
Four hundred officers on the staff of Napoleon’s Grande Armée guaranteed that the distribution of
supplies was well organized. Also important, however, was the fact that patriotic troops and officers were
willing to live lean and did not need much supply. In the still dynastic armies of his adversaries, both
aristocratic officers and mercenary troops were reluctant to campaign without the comforts of abundant
supply. Moreover, Napoleon’s patriotic troops could live off the land. They could be trusted to disperse,
forage, and return to their regiments. Dynastic troops were generally not allowed to disperse and forage
because often they did not return. This meant Napoleon could always move faster than his enemies. He
could catch them and threaten to cut their lines without worrying too much about their threatening his.

In the strategic approach, the operational approach, the engagement, and even in logistics, Napoleon’s
officers developed dynamic new methods that took advantage of the opportunities offered by the amazing
new force that was at their disposal, new methods that gave them a decisive advantage over their
adversaries. The new force and the new methods are the subject of this lesson. Both may be seen at their
best in the most famous of Napoleon’s victories, Austerlitz.

We cannot successfully study the phenomenon of Napoleonic warfare without also devoting some
attention to Napoleon as an individual person. Napoleon was born in 1769 in Corsica. His father was a
notary and minor noble in the capital city of Ajaccio. In 1779, Napoleon began study at the royal military
academy in Brienne, and in 1784 transferred to the Ecole Militaire in Paris. He graduated a year early
because his father had died and his family urgently needed his lieutenant’s pay, meager though it was. As
an artillery officer, Napoleon served 1788–1789 as the captain of the experimental company of the
Artillery School in Auxonne. Napoleon read voraciously at this time about politics, history, warfare, and
much else, in the well-stocked library of the Artillery School. Later in life Napoleon said, “there was
nothing I knew at the end that I did not know at the beginning.”

Napoleon was sympathetic to the Revolution when it broke out in 1789 and spent time on leave in
Ajaccio trying to gain support for the Revolution locally. In July 1793, Napoleon joined the French force
investing Toulon, a port city in revolt and allied with the English. Napoleon, as the artillery commander
of this force, seized Fort Eguillette, which allowed control of the harbor’s entrance by artillery, forcing
the English to withdraw and the city to capitulate. For this achievement, he was promoted to brigadier
general.

Napoleon was placed under arrest briefly after the Thermidorean reaction of July 1794 for suspicion
of being too closely associated with the recently deposed far left. Napoleon nonetheless had friends,
notably Barras, highly placed in the government, who gave him command of the troops whose job it was
to protect the Convention, the ruling body, from insurgent crowds in the attempted coup of Vendemiaire
in October 1795. Napoleon prevailed in this pitched struggle that lasted several days, and remarked
afterwards that control of urban crowds needed only “a whiff of grapeshot.” The grateful Convention
promoted Napoleon to major general, and put him in command of all military forces within France. His
rise to this post at the age of 26 was already meteoric.

In March of 1796, Napoleon was sent by the government, now the Directory, to command French
forces fighting the Austrians in northern Italy. Napoleon campaigned brilliantly there for over a year
using many of the tactics he would use later. By April 1797, he had defeated all of the Austrian forces
sent against him, and compelled them to withdraw from Italy. The years 1798 to 1799 found Napoleon
leading a quixotic campaign in Egypt, where he won important land battles, but lost his fleet in the Battle
of the Nile at Aboukir Bay, stranding the French force. Seeing that his position in Egypt was ultimately
hopeless, Napoleon secretly returned to France with a small staff in October 1799. He was lionized by the
public for his victories in Italy and what was still perceived as his victories in Egypt.

Meanwhile, the Directory had become unpopular with the French public because of its reputation for
indecisiveness and graft and because it had disappointed extremists on both left and right. Elements
within the Directory leadership sought a popular general to head a caretaker government that might
overcome these shortcomings. Napoleon was the third general they asked but the first to accept. The
result was the Brumaire coup of November 1799, which made Napoleon and two others into the three
“consuls” who would now head the French state. Napoleon was definitely the first among equals in this
group and within a few years would become First Consul, Consul for Life, and finally in December 1804
“Emperor of the French.”

Napoleon was characterized throughout this period by an ability to take advantage of opportunity. He
was tremendously effective both as a civil administrator and as a military commander. He was widely
regarded by friend and foe as the most effective field commander of his day. He had a reputation of being
able to influence and motivate, critics said manipulate, all manner of individuals he came in contact with,
as well as public opinion as a whole and the statesmen of foreign governments. He was able to hold in his
mind simultaneously a wide array of information about many aspects of civil administration—education,
the judiciary, and the like—as well as the many aspects of military administration. He had great energy,

ambition, and willpower. Observers noted that when on campaign, Napoleon would sleep only a few
hours at night when orders had to be drawn, but then take short naps at quiet moments during the day,
willing himself instantly asleep, and then instantly awake.

Napoleon won his greatest victories in the years 1805 to 1807, as we will see in this lesson. As we
will see in the next lesson, Napoleon would suffer his greatest defeats in the campaigns of 1812 to 1815,
and had great flaws to match his great virtues. His weaknesses, which grew out of his strengths, led to his
forced abdication in 1815, and to his ending his days in 1821 in exile on the distant island of St. Helena.

ST

22-2

Leader Communication

ST 22-

2

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i

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ii

To meet these purposes:

Chapter 1 reviews the Army standard for writing, critical thinking, creative thinking,
decision making, and problem solving.

Chapter 2 introduces concepts fundamental to writing including the domains of
evaluation (substance, style, organization and correctness), the writing process, the
fundamentals of argumentation, types of essays, and general writing guidelines.

Chapter 3 discusses academic ethics and the plagiarism policy of the Command and
General Staff School.

Chapter 4 addresses the elements of preparing and delivering military briefings.

Chapter 5 reviews the responsibilities and duties of staff officers and staff coordination
techniques.

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Table of Contents

Chapter 1 Paragraph
Communication Skills for Leaders
Army Standard 1-2
Principles of Good Writing 1-3
Critical Thinking 1-13
Creative Thinking 1-14
Decision Making 1-15
Problem Solving 1-16

Chapter 2
Fundamentals of Writing
Substance 2-4
Style 2-6
Organization 2-7
Correctness 2-9
The Writing Process 2-10
Pre-Writing 2-12
Drafting 2-22
Revising 2-25
Editing 2-27
Essay Format 2-29
Naming Convention 2-30
Publishing 2-31
Fundamentals of Argumentation 2-32
Types of Evidence 2-33
Evaluation of Evidence 2-34
Logic 2-35
Fallacies of Logic 2-36
Assessing Writing 2-37
Types of CGSOC Essays 2-38
Argumentative Essay 2-39
Analytical Essay 2-40
Expository Essay 2-41
Compare and Contrast Essay 2-42
General Writing Guidelines 2-43
Resources 2-44
Learning Resource Center (LRC) 2-45

Chapter

3

Academic Ethics
Documentation 3-2
Key Definitions 3-5
Plagiarism 3-8
Writing Requirements 3-10
Group Work 3-11
Proofreading 3-12
Copyright Laws 3-13

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iv

Professional Standards 3-14
Evaluation Process 3-15
Use of Computer Software 3-16
Reporting Procedures and Responsibilities 3-18
Academic Freedom 3-19
Non-Attribution Policy 3-21

Chapter

4

Military Briefings
Characteristics 4-2
Steps 4-4
Standards of Effective Communication 4-5
Style and Correctness 4-14
Speaking 4-19
Speaker Anxiety 4-21
Rehearsals 4-23
Visual Aids 4-25

Chapter

5

The Staff Officer
Staff Officer Characteristics 5-2
The Staff’s Role 5-12
Staff Actions 5-13
Problem Solving 5-17
Staff Coordination 5-18

Appendix A
The Concise Command and General Staff School Style Guide

Appendix B
Editing Symbols

Appendix C
An Argumentative Analysis Checklist

Appendix D
Writing Resources

Appendix E
Index

Appendix F
References

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1

CHAPTER 1

COMMUNICATION SKILLS FOR LEADERS

“The liberty of speaking and writing guards our other liberties.”

Thomas Jefferson

1-1. Mission accomplishment requires skilled leaders able to make the right
decisions. Individuals who transmit their intent and ideas so that others understand the
message and act on it possess one of the primary qualities of leadership, the ability to
communicate effectively. Success as a military leader depends on the ability to think
critically and creatively and to communicate your intention and decision to others. How
you arrive at your decision and communicate it to others is our focus.

The Army Standard for Communication

1-2. AR 25-50, Preparing and Managing Correspondence, states Army writing is
“…clear, concise, and effective. Army correspondence must aid effective
communication and decision-making. The reader must understand the writer’s ideas in
a single rapid reading, and the correspondence must be free of errors in substance,
organization, style and correctness.” Style rules include:

 Put the recommendation, conclusion, or reason for writing–the “bottom line”–in
the first or second paragraph, not at the end

 Use the active voice

 Use short sentences (an average of 15 or fewer words)

 Use short words (three syllables or fewer)

 Write paragraphs that, with few exceptions, are no more than 1 inch deep

 Use correct spelling, grammar, and punctuation

 Use “I,” “you” and “we” as subjects of sentences instead of “this office,” “this
headquarters,” “all individuals,” and so forth, for most kinds of writing (note that in
essays assigned by the History Department, in general, avoid use of the first
person)

Structure your writing to begin with the main idea first and transmit a focused message.

 Open with a short, clear purpose sentence

 Put the recommendation, conclusion, or most important information (the main
point) next

 Clearly separate each major section. Use paragraphs, headings, or section titles

 Use a specific format if one is appropriate

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Style–the active voice.

 The active voice is direct, natural, and forceful

 The active voice does more than make sentences clearer–it shortens sentences

 Eliminating the passive voice reduces a piece of writing by up to 20 percent

 Active voice writing emphasizes the doer of the action, shows who does the
action in the sentence, and creates shorter sentences

Principles of Good Writing

1-3. AR 25-50 requires that writers incorporate the following principles into their
communications:

 Understood in a single rapid reading

 Concisely organized, and to the point

 Use subject–verb–object sentence order

 Active voice writing

Short, Sensible Sentences and Paragraphs

1-4. Effective writers employ both long and short sentences. However, the average
sentence should be somewhere around 15 words.* The same holds true for paragraph
length. Some paragraphs are 2 inches in depth while others less than an inch, but the
average paragraph is about 1 inch (about

6

lines) deep for a single spaced document.

Efficient Phrases, Vocabulary, and Images

1-5. Use commonly accepted words and word pictures. Know your audience. Avoid
the use of jargon, “official-speak,” and acronyms, especially when writing or speaking to
an audience that may not be familiar with them.

Active Voice

1-6. The topic of active or passive voice in writing and speaking seems to create a lot
of confusion. The problem is that many writers confuse voice with tense and conclude
that passive voice always refers to the past while active voice refers to the present or
future. Voice only shows whether the subject is performing the action (active
voice) or receiving the action (passive voice). Active and passive voice never refers
to tense, but to action. Key to determining active voice is to tell who is doing the acting.

1-7. There are cues for the passive voice. There are four telltale signs that indicate
whether or not the sentence is in the passive voice. First, in a passive voice sentence
the subject of the sentence is the recipient of the action. Second, there is always some
form of a “to be” verb (am, is, are, was, were, be, being, been). Third, in a passive voice
sentence there is always a transitive verb, which is a verb that transfers action over to
an object. And finally, in a passive voice sentence there is always a past participle (past
participles are verbs that generally end in –ed, –en or –t). Whenever possible, write in

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3

the active voice and let the subject of your sentences do the action. Consider the
following examples.

Passive Voice Active Voice

The M4 was fired by PFC Meadows. PFC Meadows fired the M4.
The HMMWV was wrecked by SGT Fey. SGT Fey wrecked the HMMWV.

1-8. Appropriate use of the passive voice. While there may be occasions when it is
proper and acceptable to use the passive voice, in general you should avoid its use.
The trick is to know what the passive voice really is and when its use is acceptable. The
use of the passive voice, like all other aspects of writing, should be the result of a
conscious decision. Its use should not be random, arbitrary, or accidental nor should it
happen out of ignorance.

1-9. Use passive voice when you do not know who the actor is. For example, you
discover the wrecked HMMWV, but you don’t know who was responsible. In this case
use the passive voice and say “The HMMWV was wrecked.”

1-10. Use the passive voice when the receiver of the action is more important than the
actor. For example, say, “The Buffalo Soldier monument was completed in 1997.”

Packaging That Supports Effective Communication

1-11. What is your bottom line (your position, conclusion, or recommendation)? Put it
at the beginning. Arrange your writing, speech, or briefing so your audience quickly and
easily understands your intent. Make sure you do not mislead your audience.

1-12. The standard also holds true for verbal communications. It means that by the
time you finish presenting information or a course of action, your subordinates, peers,
and superiors should know your intent and understand your recommendation or
decision. Effective writing and communication is based on applying critical thinking,
creative thinking, decision making, and problem solving skills to identify answers for
complex problems.

Critical Thinking

1-13. Organizational leaders must think critically to solve problems effectively. Critical
thinking:

 Follows recognized standards and uses mental models

 Is thorough and involves all elements of reasoning

 Is rigorous in applying high standards to identify and evaluate evidence to
guide decision making

 Requires you to analyze the task, identify your goal(s), and clarify the problem
you need to solve

 Consider the many perspectives influencing the task and recognize that the
data (information, evidence, facts, observations, or experiences) you work with
may be incomplete

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4

 Requires you to examine assumptions (yours and others), along with
inferences, conclusions, implications, and consequences of these assumptions

Creative Thinking

1-14. Successful creative thinking never takes place in a vacuum. It builds on critical
thinking skills. Creative thinking:

 Specific thought processes which improve our creative ability

 Thinking deliberately in ways to improve the likelihood of generating new
thoughts

 Maximizes the ability of the brain to think of new ideas and explore multiple
avenues of actions or thoughts

 Sometimes called divergent thinking because thought patterns and areas of
belief expand

 Asks you to identify those inhibitors that focus your thinking along
predetermined paths

 Inhibitors include perceptions, culture, environment, emotions, intellect, and
“idea killers” (usually expressed in such phrases as “We already tried that,” “It
would take too long,” “The commander would never support it,” “I have enough
information,” etc.)

Decision Making

1-15. Decision making is:

 The process of making choices or reaching conclusions

 Cognitive process of reaching a decision

 Applying critical thinking skills and creative thinking processes to solve
complex problems

 The critical reasoning and thinking standards help you evaluate your
reasoning and thinking for clarity, accuracy, precision, relevance, depth, breadth,
logic, significance, and fairness

Problem Solving

1-16. Chapter 4 of FM 6-0, Commander and Staff Organization and Operations, notes
that problem solving is a “daily activity for leaders.” Additionally, the manual highlights
the importance of using a systemic approach to solving problems and offers a model for
leaders to employ in organizations to effectively address the myriad of problems that
routinely arise in the normal conduct of operations.

Problem solving is:

 A series of decisions to resolve a situation

 The ability to get answers to questions through a conscious, organized process

 A systematic approach using multiple perspectives to uncover the issues related
to a problem, develop a plan to resolve the problem, and implement the plan

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5

Problems may be structured in one of three ways:

 Well-Structured Problems
–Problem is easy to identify
–Required information is available
–Method to solve is obvious

 Medium Structured Problems
–Problem identification takes more experienced leaders
–Some, but not all, information is available
–Method to solve is based upon MDMP and troop leading procedures

 Ill-Structured Problems
–The problem is not clear and consensus is difficult to reach
–Information on nature of problem is hard to collect
–A broad approach is essential and no single action will solve

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CHAPTER 2

FUNDAMENTALS OF WRITING

2-1. All scholarly writing requires time and effort to produce and begins by answering
the fundamental questions of “who is the audience?” and “what is the purpose of the
writing?” Additionally, the writing must adhere to the basic conventions of standard
written English (SWE) and address the issue in question to be effective. For CGSOC
students, there are numerous writing requirements throughout the academic year. The
college places great emphasis on writing and communicating efficiently and effectively
across the curriculum. The skills reinforced in the CGSOC writing requirements pay
great dividends for field grade leaders returning to units throughout the U.S. military
services and U.S. governmental agencies.

2-2. Both writing and thinking have hierarchy. Throughout the academic year at
CGSC, students are challenged to think critically and creatively. Writing assignments
measure the students’ ability to communicate their thoughts relative to specific courses
of instruction. Each block of instruction has specific terminal and enabling learning
objectives that include an associated level of learning. Unlike undergraduate education,
much of the CGSC curriculum orients on the higher levels of cognitive learning, such as
“synthesis” or “evaluation” as a stated goal of the curriculum. Likewise, writing
assignments at CGSC seek to challenge students to perform in four critical areas,
substance, style, organization, and correctness. While students must perform well in
each of the four domains to be successful, it becomes increasingly more challenging as
you move up the writing hierarchy (see figure below).

2-3. For CGSOC students, the writing evaluation uses four domains: substance, style,
organization and correctness. While each assignment and each instructor may amplify
the specific instructions for a particular writing requirement, in general the faculty
evaluate CGSOC students’ written work in these four areas. Below is a description of
each of these domains.

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8

2-4. Substance consists of the intellectual content of the essay. It is usually the most
important consideration in scholarly and professional writing. In CGSOC, satisfactory
essays display the following in regards to substance:

 A clearly stated thesis in the introductory paragraph of the paper

 All the supporting paragraphs on target in backing up the thesis

 The content is original, critical, and thoughtfully logical

 There is sufficient specific evidence for each supporting point

 The essay’s substance directly addresses and answers the question(s) posed
in the assignment

2-5. Substance also involves an understanding of content and analysis/problem-
solving/conclusions.

 Content means that your thesis is clear and concise. The content is fully
compliant with the assigned requirement and the needs of the reader. Everything
is accurate and the level of detail is suited to the needs of the assigned
requirement and reader. Explanations and descriptions of content are clear and
precise. Quantitative information is relevant and accurate, expressed with
appropriate examples, and well integrated into the text. Evidence is fully
explained and developed throughout the essay.

 Analysis/problem-solving/conclusions are an essential element of substance.
Satisfactory work attains the highest cognitive level that is appropriate to the
assignment. Your essay contains insightful, original analysis, and your
conclusions are supported by evidence clearly explained. You consider ethical
and legal issues when relevant, alternative points of view, and address potential
counter-arguments.

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2-6. Style, as an area of evaluation, plays a significant role in the effectiveness of
any writing. An author’s distinctive voice is heard because of the writing style he or
she uses. Style in writing addresses important aspects such as sentence types,
coordination and subordination, verb tense use and consistency, and transitional
expressions. A good writing style complements the other domains of substance,
organization and correctness to facilitate effective communication. The domain of
style speaks to the following principles:

 Words are precise

 Language is concise without wordiness

 The writer’s tone is appropriate to the audience and purpose

 The essay’s tone, diction, and syntax complement the intended effect

 Sentences track clearly even to the rapid reader

 Sentence types are varied and chosen with conscious thought

 Transitions lead smoothly from one idea to the next

 Active voice predominates

 Sources are appropriately cited

2-7. Readers expect scholarly and professional writing that is clear and organized.
Organization ensures that the points of your paper are clear and logically arranged to
develop the content and analysis most productively for the audience. Moreover, a well-
organized essay effectively communicates the substance of the writing. It provides the

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skeletal structure of the essay and helps the readers see the relationships between your
ideas. Organization begins early in the writing process and is refined throughout the
remaining stages. Given the importance of a well-organized essay, it is obvious that the
main idea must be articulated plainly and directly so that readers see the roadmap of
the writing. It requires effort to craft a strong thesis/controlling idea and corresponding
topic sentences. Without these essential elements, your writing lacks organization and
clarity.

2-8. Effective essays have a clear method of organization include an introduction, a
main body, and a conclusion. Later sections of this handbook illustrate effective
organizational approaches for the most common type of essays required in CGSOC.

2-9. Correctness is defined as adherence to the conventions of standard written
English (SWE). It is difficult to pass CGSOC or operate effectively in organizations if you
do not, among other things, spell correctly, avoid comma splices and sentence
fragments, use proper verb tenses, and make subjects and verbs agree. Hence, there
must be few, if any, departures from the published standard for grammar, punctuation,
and usage. Correctness errors distract from a smooth reading and inhibit effective
communication.

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2-10. The writing process serves as a method or system of approach to writing that
involves organization and construction. The writing process is logical, sequential,
predictable, and repetitive. Like any other process, you can master the writing process.
Ultimately, writing effectively requires discipline and determination. By viewing and
approaching writing in a systematic, logical, and orderly manner, most people can more
effectively communicate their ideas and produce high-quality products that withstand
the scrutiny of academic examination.

2-11. For ease of understanding, it is helpful to view the writing process as consisting
of the following five steps; pre-writing, drafting, revising, editing, and publishing the final
product. While these steps appear linear and sequential, the real strength of the writing
process lies in the understanding of the writer to know where he or she is within the
process and to negotiate the steps as necessary. At times, you may need to go back or
forward in the process. The creative fluidity of the writing process allows for such
movements, but the final step reminds writers that the end state is a finished product
that meets the standards in all four writing evaluation domains. Below is a brief
discussion on each of the five steps of the writing process.

2-12. Step One: Prewriting. This step includes all the things writers do prior to actually
producing a draft of the essay. Prewriting likely involves research on the assigned topic.
Organized and focused research provides a wealth of material that improves the quality
of a product. The tasking may come from a job requirement, professional development,
or a college class. Most of your CGSC writing begins with research of a given topic and
includes; finding information, making notes, expounding on the notes, and documenting
the sources.

2-13. During research you should systematically gather information to find the answer
to a specific question or to develop the solution to a given problem. The process has
several distinct steps:

 Begin with a research question that you cannot answer with a yes or no

 Clearly state the purpose

 Divide the primary problem into sub-problems

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 Make educated guesses (hypotheses) to answer the question based on
specific assumptions

 Develop a specific plan of action

 Consider your audience and conduct research according to their needs

 Consolidate and categorize your evidence such as examples, statistics, and
authoritative testimony

2-14. Research consists of asking questions and finding answers. Whenever you
attempt to answer a question that requires more than a yes or no answer, you have a
problem requiring research. Some questions used to identify the problem, establish
purpose, analyze data, and draw valid conclusions include:

 What is the real problem?

 What is your purpose in answering the problem?

 What are the subordinate questions you must answer to solve the problem?

 What are your educated guesses (hypotheses) that suggest solutions to the
problem?

 What are the assumptions behind your educated guesses?

 What is your research plan?

 What type of information do you need?

 What is your plan to analyze the information (data)?

 Why does your information support your hypothesis? Why not?

 What conclusions can you draw from the data analyzed?

2-15. State the purpose. The mere statement of a research question only gives you
direction for research. Compiling information without a purpose is merely collecting
facts, opinions, and ideas on a given topic that only has value to the individual. You
must identify why you need to answer the research problem. “Why” provides purpose
for your efforts. Purpose provides you with direction, while helping you and your
audience understand what you want to accomplish.

2-16. Divide the primary problem into sub-problems. There are several sub-problems
that you need to answer before you can fulfill the purpose behind your tasking. Each
sub-problem directly affects your purpose. It is imperative that you take the time to
identify the sub-problems that directly affect your purpose.

2-17. Develop a specific plan of action. Military operations begin with a clearly stated
purpose, the mission statement. Implementation requires a specific plan of action–the
operations order. Research requires the same. You identify your purpose and then
develop a plan to discover the information needed to answer the question. It then
becomes important to consider where you find your research data. Just as important is
to consider how you are going to analyze the data to ensure you recognize and
understand its significance for your research.

2-18. Accept information, evidence, facts, observations, and experiences (data)
relevant to the problem. Every problem has many factors. Some are relevant, while
others may have nothing to do with the solution. Determine what data is relevant and
then collect it. What you collect becomes significant when you extract meaning from it.

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Data demands interpretation; it cannot stand alone. It must pass from your notes
through your mind for processing and interpretation. Data that passes from the raw
stage to the final product without interpretation is merely the regurgitation of
meaningless ideas.

2-19. Clarify the requirement and confirm your purpose. Identify any existing
assumptions and know exactly who you are writing for. Organize your data and get
ready to write. Getting started is one of the greatest challenges that skilled and unskilled
writers and researchers face. Knowing the type of writing that meets the requirement is
critical.

2-20. Thesis statement. The problem you are investigating is at the very heart of any
report, paper, or research. This is the most important element of your writing. It is here
that you clarify the problem. This is the point where many writers fail. They are not able
to tell their audience why the topic merits serious consideration. The thesis statement
tells the audience why the topic demands attention. You do this by clearly stating your
topic and your purpose, assertion, or question. A good thesis statement clearly and
succinctly gives the “what” and the “why” of the author’s essay and provides a roadmap
for the remainder of the essay.

2-21. Prewriting techniques. Once you understand the requirement and decide which
type of writing meets the requirement, it is time to organize the data from your research.
There are several helpful prewriting techniques available. Prewriting, as the first and
foremost element of the writing process, helps you to generate material from which your
essay develops. It is more important to get quantity out of your prewriting than quality.
At this early stage, you want to simply capture as many thoughts about the topic on
paper as you’re able. Refining and focusing these disjointed thoughts into a coherent
essay comes later in the writing process. Writers should experiment with each of these
techniques and adopt the technique or combination of techniques that works best for
them. That is, they should determine and employ that technique or combination of
techniques that produce the most raw material in the shortest amount of time. Here is a
short description of the most popular techniques:

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Brainstorming: In brainstorming, you generate ideas and details by asking as
many questions as you can think of about your subject. Such questions include: what,
when, why, where, who, and how.

Freewriting: In freewriting you write without stopping for a set time. You don’t
worry about grammar, spelling, and/or punctuation during freewriting. Instead, you
simply jot down, in a stream of consciousness style, all you can during the time period.
Many times, merely moving your pen across the page generates ideas.

Diagramming: Diagramming, also known as mind-mapping or clustering,
graphically portrays general thoughts by using arrows, lines, boxes, and circles to show
relationships between ideas and details as they come to you. This technique is a good
tool for people who like to do their thinking in a more visual way. Also, diagramming
lends itself to effective essay organization better than some of the other prewriting
techniques.

Making a list: In this technique you list as many different items as you can think
of concerning your topic. Again, don’t worry about the punctuation, etc… Try to write
down everything you can think of about your subject. Your aim is to generate as much
raw material as you can.

Preparing a scratch outline: Similar to making a list, preparing a scratch outline
for use by itself or in combination with other techniques is very helpful. It is the single
most helpful technique of all prewriting because you think and write about the exact
point you are making and how you support that point. The scratch outline is a blueprint
for an organized, unified, and well-supported essay.

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2-22. Step Two: Drafting. The purpose of drafting is to transform the raw material of
your prewriting into a rough draft of your essay. Focus on the substance and
organization of your document, not on what the final product may look like. This is your
first draft, not your final product. However, when finished it should contain the substance
you need to communicate. Two techniques help you write the first draft, take the
strongest elements/ideas of your prewriting and outline the “skeleton” of your essay, or
focus on the relationship between your rough ideas to begin structuring your essay.

2-23. The skeletal outline keeps you focused on both the substance and organization
of your paper. Print out your outline or minimize it and place it where you can see it
clearly. Place any quotations, references, and supporting documents in the order they
occur in the outline. Now begin writing. Follow your outline and insert supporting
material (evidence) as needed.

2-24. Focus on the relationship between the ideas you have captured and try to
“connect-the-dots” between those ideas. Write quickly as the thoughts come to mind.
Don’t worry about the perfect word or the just-right sentence. The purpose is to capture
the ideas that race through your mind. It is very easy to lose an important idea
whenever you pause to capture the right word or sentence. Write as rapidly as you can
and capture those ideas that grab your attention.

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2-25. Step Three: Revising. During this step of the writing process you evaluate the
substance of the essay and examine the intellectual content for coherence, clarity, unity,
and development. Good writers are invariably good revisers. They can set aside “pride
of authorship” and critically review what they wrote. Writers may not revise well for three
reasons: (1) they don’t know how; (2) they find it difficult and avoid it, or (3) they don’t
schedule enough time. Effective writers set aside sufficient time just for revising. At the
appointed time, confident writers sit down and begin the revision process, following
established criteria to review and revise their writing.

2-26. Steps for revising essays. When you have plenty of time to revise, use the time
to work on your paper and to take breaks from writing. If you can forget about your draft
for a day or two, you may return to it with a fresh outlook. During the revising process
put your writing aside at least twice-once during the first part of the process, when you
are reorganizing your work, and once during the second part, when you are polishing
and paying attention to details.

Use the following questions to evaluate your drafts. Use your responses to revise your
papers by reorganizing them to make your best points stand out, adding needed
information, eliminating irrelevant information, and clarifying sections or sentences.

Find your main point. What are you trying to say in the paper? In other words,
try to summarize your thesis, or main point, and the evidence used to support that point.
Try to imagine that this paper belongs to someone else. Does the paper have a clear
thesis? Do you know what the paper is going to be about?

Identify your audience and your purpose. What are you trying to do in the

paper? In other words, are you trying to simply summarize an argument, to analyze an
argument, critique an argument, or to accomplish another goal? Your audience must
clearly see and understand your purpose.

Evaluate your evidence. Does the body of your paper support your thesis? Do

you offer enough evidence to support your claim? If you use quotations from the text as
evidence, did you cite them properly?

Save only the good pieces. Do all of the ideas relate back to the thesis? Is

there anything that doesn’t seem to fit? If so, you either need to change your thesis to
reflect the idea or cut the idea.

Tighten and clean up your language. Do all of the ideas in the paper make

sense? Are there unclear or confusing ideas or sentences? Read your paper out loud
and listen for awkward pauses and unclear ideas. Cut out extra words, vagueness, and
misused words.

Eliminate mistakes in grammar and usage. Do you see any problems with

grammar, punctuation, or spelling? If you think something is wrong, you should make a
note of it, even if you don’t know how to fix it. You can always consult a grammar expert
about how to correct errors.

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Switch from writer-centered to reader-centered. Try to detach yourself from
what you’ve written; pretend that you are reviewing someone else’s work. What would
you say is the most successful part of your paper? Why? How can you make this part
even better? What would you say is the least successful part of your paper? Why? How
could you improve this part?

2-27. Step Four: Editing. This phase of the writing process addresses the necessary
step of editing the draft to ensure adherence to the conventions of standard written
English (SWE). Typically, editing examines grammatical correctness, formatting, and
citations, with an eye to correcting any surface-level mistake that may distract from a
smooth reading.

2-28. Editing or proofreading is effective when you approach it systematically. One
helpful technique follows three steps; reread the paper, do a spell check, and check the
grammar. First, read your paper backwards beginning at the end and proceeding to the
beginning. We call this “proofing from the bottom to the top.” Look for correctly spelled
words that are not the right words.

For example, you may use “sight” rather than “site” when referring to a location.
Second, use the spell check function of your computer to review the document. Finally,
perform a grammar check of your paper. Look for incomplete sentences, passive voice,
verb tense agreement, and subject agreement with verbs and pronouns. The computer
assists you in this task, but it is not perfect. You must remember, the computer is only a
tool that suggests what you can do. You, as the author, must still make the final
decision on how to compose each sentence. Once you finish proofreading your paper,
you have the final product.

2-29. Essay format. In general, the format standard for essays and other writing
requirements (unless otherwise dictated) is:

 Pages with one-inch borders on all sides

 Font is Arial size 12 (note that essays assigned by the History Department
normally specifies the use of Times-New Roman as the required font)

 Double-space lines and paragraphs

 Cover pages are not numbered

 Page one of a paper is the first page

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 Pages are numbered on the bottom and centered

 Short papers (4-5 pages or less) use endnotes or parenthetical citations

 New paragraphs are indented five spaces

 Turabian is the standard for citation formats based on the source of the
reference

 Endnote and bibliographic pages are separate

2-30. Naming Convention. CGSOC essays should follow the naming convention as
outlined below. The naming convention allows for ease of identification and facilitates
uniformity in the submission of essays digitally.

Last Name_First Name_Block/Module/Course_Assignment.File Extension

Last Name: The last name of the author of the assignment
First Name: The first name of the author of the assignment
Block/Module/Course: The block, module or course alpha numeric identifier associated
with the assignment
Assignment: The common name used to identify the assignment

Examples:

Smith_John_H100_Outline x
Smith_John_H100_Essay x
Smith_John_L100_Exam x
Smith_John_F100_Written_Product x
Smith_John_C300_Test2 x

2-31. Step Five: Publishing. The final step in the writing process is “publishing,” which
means to submit the essay to the faculty as directed. In the case of essays or articles
not part of the CGSOC curriculum, it means to submit for publication in a selected
journal or periodical. As military leaders, we are familiar with tactical planning, where we
start with actions on the objective and work backwards to the beginning of the plan. In a
similar way, writers must examine the end state of the process–that is the suspense or
deadline to have the product finished–and allocate the necessary time and resources to
accomplish the writing task. In doing so, this step is simply the culmination of a long and
arduous process that results in the best possible product being completed in the time
allowed.

Fundamentals of Argumentation

2-32. Fundamentals of argumentation. One of the major modes of discourse,
argumentation applies to virtually all assignments involving critical reasoning, no matter
the subject or discipline. It involves a higher level of reasoning than associated with
descriptive, narrative, or expository writing. It is crucial for CGSC students to
understand and master these principles, indeed these concepts drive the critical
thinking skills associated with argumentative writing. The argument consists of an
introduction, body, and conclusion and is built around a major premise or position
(ideally offered in thesis statement). Additionally, there is a definite pattern of
organization used in developing the argument.

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In general, the term argument refers to “a reasoned attempt to convince the audience to
accept a particular point of view about a debatable topic.” Looking more closely at this
definition, we observe that the argument is not irrational and does not depend strictly on
passion or emotion. Rather, argumentation represents a “reasoned attempt,” that is, an
effort based on careful thinking and planning where the appeal is to the mind, the
intellect of the audience at hand. Thus, the writer strives to “convince the audience to
accept a particular point of view.”

The key concept here is “to convince the audience.” You must make them believe your
position, accept your logic, and persuade them that the position you advocate is the
best possible of several alternatives. Hence, as the argument maker, you must offer
enough evidence to convince a reasonable, rational, fair-minded person that your
position is the one that he/she should adopt. Not unlike a court case when lawyers
attempt to persuade a judge and jury based on the evidence they present, you too must
convince your readers through the skillful and judicious use of evidence. While other
elements of your writing have importance, ultimately in an argumentative essay, the
final persuasiveness depends almost exclusively on the quantity and quality of the
evidence. Not only do you want them to accept the evidence, but you want the audience
to accept “a particular point of view”–yours. It is your position, your proposition.
Understand that all too often the audience is intrigued by the evidence presented, but
that intrigue alone is not enough to convince them of the validity or authority of your
position in the matter.

Finally, there must be “a debatable topic” present for a true argument to develop.
What is debatable? One cannot, for example, debate that Clausewitz was born in 1780
in Prussia, and entered the Prussian military service at the age of twelve as a lance-
corporal, eventually attaining the rank of major general. Nor can one debate that
Clausewitz served in the Rhine Campaigns, including the Siege of Mainz when the
Prussian army invaded France during the French Revolution, and served in the
Napoleonic Wars from 1806 to 1815. Those are indisputable facts.

One can debate, however, whether Clausewitz or Jomini played a more influential role
in the development of U.S. military doctrine. One can certainly debate whether or not
the U.S. Army brigade combat teams have enough resources to function effectively in a
particular operational environment. Again, the key principle here is that the topic must
have at least two sides, pro (those in favor of the position under discussion) and con
(those who are against the position as stated). Often, there is a variety of possible
positions and a good argument offers convincing evidence for the best possible
position.

2-33. Types of evidence. A writer’s selection of the type and amount of evidence
included in an essay largely determines the persuasiveness of the overall argument.
Often, there are word and/or page constraints that limit the amount of evidence
included. You must make conscious decisions about what evidence to include and what
evidence to leave out! Writing is ultimately about making decisions and one of the most
important decisions centers on the topic of evidence, specifically which evidence is the
most compelling out of all that is available. Normally, a good blend of the types and

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amount of evidence makes for the most convincing argument. The three types of
evidence routinely used are examples, statistics, and authoritative testimony.
Examples: In arguments, three sorts of examples are especially common; real events,
invented instances (artificial or hypothetical cases), and analogies. Real events are
historically accurate occurrences cited as evidence and are indisputable as factual
information.

Invented instances are another type of example and are cited to help illustrate a
particular point in an argument. A purely hypothetical example provokes reconsideration
of a generalization, but it cannot substitute for actual events as evidence supporting an
inductive inference.

The third type of example is an analogy. Strictly speaking, an analogy is an extended
comparison in which unlike things are shown to be similar in several ways.

Analogies develop our thoughts and are convincing, especially because they make
complex issues simple (“Don’t change horses in midstream” of course is not a
statement about riding horses across a river, but about choosing leaders in critical
times). Still, in the end, analogies prove nothing.

Statistics. Statistical information is marshaled and presented in many forms, but it tends
to fall into two main types, the graphic and the numerical. The inclusion of graphic
statistics is powerful and compelling when effectively explained. Likewise, numerical
statistics offers readers a strong and logical element of evidence. However, an astute
reader regards statistical evidence (like all other evidence) cautiously and will not
necessarily accept it at face value without thinking about these questions:

–Was it compiled by a disinterested source?
–Is it based on an adequate sample?
–Is the statistical evidence recent enough to be relevant?

–How many of the factors likely relevant were identified and measured?
−Are the figures open to a different and equally plausible interpretation?

Authoritative testimony: Another form of evidence is testimony, the citation or
quotation of authorities. There are several important things to remember regarding the
inclusion of authorities as evidence:

–Be sure that the authority, however notable, is an authority on the topic in
question
–Be sure the authority is not biased
–Beware of nameless authorities: “a thousand doctors,” “leading educators,”
“researchers at a major medical school”
–Be careful in using authorities who indeed were great authorities in their day but
who now may be out of date (Clausewitz on the art of war, Pasteur on medicine)
–Cite authorities whose opinions your readers value

2-34. Evaluation of evidence. For arguments to be persuasive, they must have a
sufficient amount of evidence that a reasonable, rational, fair-minded person would
accept as proof. When such a person examines the evidence in an argument, it is not

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unlike a jury member in a court case seeking to determine the truth, basing his/her
decision on the guilt or innocence of the accused on the validity and veracity of the
evidence offered by the attorneys. To help ascertain the persuasiveness of the
argument, we must examine the argument in greater detail. To do that, we use an
analysis checklist that aids us in our examination and ensures that we do not
unconsciously forget to evaluate a critical component of the writer’s argument. Using
such a checklist takes much of the guesswork out of the analysis and makes our
evaluation of the evidence more impartial and objective, rather than arbitrary and
subjective. Often, the results of that analysis is articulated in the form of an analytical
essay. We discuss the analytical essay in greater detail later in the chapter. Below is a
sample analysis checklist frequently used throughout the college.

2-35. Logic. In the development of arguments, one must employ logic to ensure that
the reasoning is sound and justifiable. In general, logic is the study of inferences, the
links that constitute the chains of reasoning in arguments. Readers should comfortably
follow the flow of an author’s argument and understand the connections that the writer
made in advancement of the argument.

Typically, logic falls into one of two approaches, inductive or deductive. Inductive logic
begins with a specific idea or premise and over the course of the argument moves
toward a general or universal application. Deductive logic begins with a general idea or
premise and over the course of the argument moves to a very specific application. It is
common when employing deductive logic to use a syllogism to present the case. Under
the rules of rhetoric, in a syllogism, if the premise (or premises) is (are) true and valid,
the conclusion must be true and valid. However, if the major premise and/or minor
premise(s) is (are) not true and not valid, then the conclusion may be not true and not
valid. For example:

Example 1

Major premise: Everyone who joins the Army goes to basic training (true and valid).

Minor premise: Matthew joined the Army (true and valid).

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Conclusion: Matthew is headed to basic training (true and valid).

Example 2
Major premise: Everyone who joins the Army is violent (not true and not valid).

Minor premise: Matthew joined the Army (true and valid).
Conclusion: Matthew is violent (may be true and valid or may be not true and not valid).

Essentially, the logic of an argument should be readily apparent and should withstand
the scrutiny of the careful reader. Flaws in the rationale or logic significantly distract
from the overall persuasiveness of the argument and writers must diligently strive to
ensure they are not guilty of manipulating their readers through skewed or fallacious
logic.

2-36. Fallacies of logic. Fallacies of logic are common errors in reasoning that
undermine the logic of your argument. Fallacies are either illegitimate arguments or
irrelevant points and often identified because they lack evidence that supports their
claim. Writers must diligently avoid these fallacies and astute thinkers watch for them in
the arguments of others.

Some of the most common fallacies of logic include:

 Hasty generalization. A conclusion formed without, or with weak, evidence,
often the product of an emotional reaction.

 False analogy. Use of analogies that are so weak that the argument is too
weak for the purpose to which it is put.

 Either/or, false dichotomy. Arbitrarily reducing a set of many possibilities to
only two.

 Transfer. What is true of the part must be true of the whole.

 Argument to the man (argumentum ad hominem). An ad hominem argument
is any that attempts to counter another’s claims or conclusions by attacking the
person rather than addressing the argument itself.

 Ad ignorantiam. The argument from ignorance basically states that a specific
belief is true because we don’t know that it isn’t true.

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 Argument from authority. The basic structure of such arguments is as follows:
professor X believes A, professor X speaks from authority, therefore A is true.
Often this argument is implied by emphasizing the many years of experience or
formal degrees held by the individual making a specific claim.

 Non sequitur. In Latin this term translates to “doesn’t follow.” This refers to an
argument in which the conclusion does not necessarily follow from the premises.
In other words, a logical connection is implied where none exists.

 Red herring. A deliberate attempt to divert a process of inquiry by changing
the subject.

 Post-hoc ergo propter hoc. This fallacy follows the basic format of A preceded
B, therefore A caused B, and therefore assumes cause and effect for two events
just because they are temporally related (Latin “after this, therefore because of
this”).

 Inconsistency. Applying criteria or rules to one belief, claim, argument, or
position-but not to others.

 Begging the question. An argument which assumes a premise which is not
explicitly stated. The writer, instead of applying evidence simply restates the point
in other language, or the second half of a writer’s argument simply restates the
first half. Also called “circular reasoning.”

 Bandwagon (argumentum ad populum). Concludes a proposition to be true
because many or all people believe it.

 Strawman. Arguing against a position which you create specifically to be easy
to argue against, rather than the position actually held by those who oppose your
point of view.

 Slippery slope. A relatively small first step inevitably leads to a chain of
related events culminating in some significant, usually catastrophic, impact.

2-37. Assessing writing. The standard tool CGSC faculty uses to evaluate student
writing is the CGSC Form 1009W (see below). While specific assignments may call for
an alternative assessment instrument, the 1009W is a common rubric used across
departments and offers concrete feedback to the student on the results of his/her
performance on a particular writing assignment. It is structured around the domains of
substance, style, organization, and correctness, and provides ample space for
additional comments by the instructor to the student. Normally, all writing assignments
and accompanying feedback is placed in the student’s individual academic portfolio for
historical and counseling purposes. This assessment tool for writing is also located in
the Blackboard Master Library.

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2-38. Throughout CGSOC, students write various types of essays. Regardless of the
particular assignment, it is essential that the student pay attention to each of the four
domains of writing and construct the essay in such a manner as to directly answer the
question or problem posed. The following is a brief description of several of the most
common types of essays in the CGSC curriculum.

Argumentative Essay

2-39. Argumentative writing requires the writer to agree or disagree with a statement,
take a stand, or defend a point of view. The main purpose of the argumentative essay is
to persuade an audience to agree with the writer’s position. The primary concern is the
quality and quantity of the evidence offered. Another way to understand the
argumentative essay is that the writer proposes an idea or proposition and then
proceeds through the paper to present evidence and analysis that supports the
argument.

An argumentative essay seeks to prove and illustrate an idea or theory. Most officers
attending the Command and General Staff School (CGSS) have experience in
presenting briefings, but probably not in publishing essays. Obviously, briefings
continue to be important, but key positions require one to relate information to a larger,
and in some cases, more sophisticated audience.

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Begin with a clearly stated thesis (the point you want to prove) in your introduction and
use the body of your paper to construct your argument. Rationally build your case,
leading to the conclusion, which should be consistent with your thesis. Avoid using
information or comments not directly supporting your thesis.

In general, devote one paragraph to one idea or concept. Arrange your sentences in
logical order. Do your best, however, to connect your paragraphs with transition
sentences. It is usually best to start each paragraph with a strong topic sentence
informing the reader what the paragraph contains so that it contributes to the thesis. For
additional information and guidance, consult this text as well as The Elements of Style
by William Strunk, Jr. and E.B. White.

Stringing together direct quotations is usually ineffective and distracts from the paper’s
purpose. A more effective technique is summarizing ideas and information within a
paragraph and then inserting a footnote/endnote to direct the reader to the source.

Analytical Essay

2-40. The analytical essay is a composition wherein the writer analyzes an argument
and evaluates the strengths and weaknesses of the argument, as well as the overall
persuasiveness of the argument. Composition pedagogy and best practices within the
writing discipline clearly demonstrate the value of and benefit of having students
analyze an argument prior to their attempts to construct their own arguments.

Given that the argumentative essay is perhaps the most difficult of all types of essays to
write, it is enormously helpful and developmental for students to first hone their critical
thinking and analysis skills by critiquing another author’s argument and then articulating
the results of that analysis. When they do this, students are invariably much more
attuned to the essential elements of a convincing argument and are much more likely to
avoid mistakes that some argument makers typically commit. Their evaluation of an
existing argument reinforces the critical rhetorical skills required to produce a
compelling argument and cements the rules of argumentation to their understanding,
namely that the argument’s evidence be of sufficient quantity and quality to be
convincing.

Within the college, we employ an argument analysis checklist to facilitate the students’
analysis of arguments and their subsequent composition of an analytical essay. A
sample argument analysis checklist is shown in paragraph 2-33 and appendix C to this
student text.

Expository Essay

2-41. Taking information from several sources and synthesizing it into a single
explanation creates expository writing. The main purpose of this type of writing is to
explain something. An example of expository writing is a news article covering a
campaign appearance of a political candidate.

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The article includes factual information about what the candidate said and did, gives
observations on the crowd’s reactions, and discusses what the political pundits or
commentators said about the event, all drawn and blended together into an expository
article.

Writers must carefully consider what key elements of information they include in an
expository essay since a good explanation requires clear and insightful prose. In the
expository essay, how the writer “exposes” the audience to the pertinent information
becomes an overarching concern that factors largely into the effectiveness of the essay.

Compare and Contrast Essay

2-42. When tasked to discuss similarities and differences of an idea, item, or event,
you are writing a compare and contrast type of essay. Comparing requires the writer to
look at similarities between the ideas, items, or events the writer is writing about. When
a writer contrasts ideas, items, or events, they look at their differences. Comparing and
contrasting requires the writer to analyze the ideas, items, or events by taking things
apart and addressing those key components that can be compared or contrasted.

Blocking or chunking is also a technique. In this technique, the writer elaborates on the
characteristics of the first item then examining the same characteristics of the second
item.

Sequencing. In this technique, the writer details the characteristics of both items
together before moving on to the second characteristic (see illustration below).

In both techniques, the writer must determine the unique points of comparison/contrast
for the approach to be effective.

General Writing Guidelines

2-43. CGSS recommends these tips when writing your essay:

A good historical essay argues a point. The author asserts a position (thesis), offers
evidence in support, accounts for opposing facts and opinions, and ends with a
conclusion that restates the thesis. Use the writing “tips” below to start. For more in-
depth reference, refer to The Elements of Style by William Strunk Jr. and E.B. White.

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Use verbs in simple past tense in active mode (he went, she thought, etc.). Passive
voice fulfills a need sometimes. Yet, as a rule, writers should use active verbs for
greater clarity and precision. To write, “Napoleon was surprised at the Battle of
Waterloo” is factually correct. However, an active verb expresses a more complete
thought: “The arrival of the Prussian Army surprised Napoleon.”

Avoid jargon and slang. Do not use unofficial abbreviations, such as “WWI” for World
War I.

Use quotations judiciously, particularly in short papers. It is possible to write your paper
without any quotations.

Quotations five lines and longer should be single-spaced and indented, without
quotation marks. Refer to Kate L. Turabian’s A Manual for Writers of Research Papers,
Theses, and Dissertations for examples and formats.

Introduce a person into the text by name and title or position the first time you mention
him or her.

Extensive stringing together of loosely paraphrased sentences is unacceptable. Citing
references protects you from a charge of plagiarism but not from an assessment of
failing to analyze the material. Demonstrate your writing and analytical skills, not those
of another author. Use direct quotations or your own words to articulate someone else’s
position.

Keep papers within length guidelines. Succinct writing is effective.

Normally use Arial, 12-pitch font for formal paper submissions, although the History
Department typically requires Times New Roman Font.

Double-space all papers unless told otherwise.

Italicize, and if necessary, define foreign words, ship names, book titles, journal titles,
etc. Enclose chapters within a book or articles within a journal with quotation marks.
Refer to Elements of Style for further explanation.

Rewriting creates clarity. Proofread carefully. Spell check and grammar check programs
do not identify correctly spelled words used incorrectly. Let time pass before re-reading
your work. Read your essay aloud. If a word, phrase, or sentence appears awkward,
revise. If you are pressed for time, ask someone else to read it aloud to you. Reduce
wordiness.

You can write an “A” paper based on mandatory course readings. While some essay
requirements direct you to only use the assigned lesson materials, other essay
requirements permit the use of outside research sources. If outside sources are
included, they must be credible and of appropriate academic standing. Be especially
careful about the use of internet sources. Some internet sources are of dubious

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academic rigor and should be avoided. If ever in doubt about the use of a particular
source, ask your instructor.

On the title page include your name, staff group, date, and course title. Word count
does not include the title page, footnotes (endnotes), or the mandatory bibliography.

Use either chronological or topical organization. Usually a chronological discussion
works better. Outlines help to enhance logical presentation.

Clear transitions between topics signal change. Avoid the overuse of subheadings.

Topic sentences are important. If a sentence does not relate to the first sentence of a
particular paragraph, change the topic sentence or move the statement to another
paragraph.

Avoid overuse of a word or phrase. Consult a dictionary or thesaurus for appropriate
synonyms. There are two exceptions; when the exact word is necessary for clarity or no
other word conveys the same idea, and when an author repeats the same word or
phrase for dramatic emphasis.

A paragraph consists of at least three sentences. Vary sentence structure and length.

Follow subject-verb agreement. A singular subject takes a singular verb. A plural
subject takes a plural verb.

Use connections such as “however,” “yet,” “unfortunately,” “rather,” “on the contrary,”
etc., to signal a change in the direction of your argument and/or contrasting ideas.
Identify speakers, authors, actors, and new terms in the narrative. When introducing a
new actor, the first reference should include first and last name, as well as job position.
Any subsequent reference should give last name only. When introducing a specific term
or abbreviation, define clearly or spell out fully. Subsequent references consist of the
term itself or the abbreviated form.

Examples:

First reference: Second reference:
Historian John Keegan Keegan
Operation ENDURING FREEDOM (OEF) OEF

Avoid first person and qualified statements.

Commonly noted problems in essays:

–No thesis or introduction
–Failure to follow essay format
–Disregard for rules of style and grammar
–Lack of authority (use of first person or unnecessarily qualified statements)
–Flaw in organization (logical development)
–No bottom line up front (BLUF) or weak topic sentences

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–Weak conclusions (no restatement of thesis, summary of evidence, and/or lack
of significance)

Resources

2-44. Field grade leaders, as practitioners in the profession of arms, need to have
ready access to a variety of writing resources. Just like a good mechanic has a toolbox
with the instruments of his trade, the best writers also have a library of writing resources
to facilitate their efforts. Military professionals should purchase, check out from the
library, and/or research references on-line. Regardless of how you acquire these writing
resources, make sure that they are available to you as you go through the writing
process. Many of these references are also available on the master library within the
CGSC Blackboard suite. Appendix D to this text provides a brief list of some of the most
helpful writing resources. These tools are invaluable during CGSOC and your
professional career.

2-45. Additionally, CGSC has created a Learning Resource Center (LRC) to facilitate
student success in the critical thinking and communications skills. The LRC is located
within the Ike Skelton Combined Arms Research Library and provides a variety of
services oriented on improving student performance. Staffed with professionals
experienced and skilled in the communications disciplines, the LRC offers an entire
suite of capabilities especially designed to enhance student learning through practice
and performance.

In addition to reviewing written assignments, the LRC offers workshops, one-on-one
coaching, and access to resources that address a variety of academic skills:

 Writing Skills
 Communication Skills
 Reading Strategies
 Critical Thinking
 Study Skills
 Time Management

The LRC website is accessed through Blackboard.

Summary

2-46. Writing is hard work. It requires significant effort and skill, and is often frustrating,
tedious, and time-consuming. However, in order to be successful as a field-grade leader
you must communicate effectively, especially in the written form. During the academic
school year at CGSC, the writing requirements are challenging and continuous. In order
to meet these requirements and to succeed in the curriculum, you have to approach
your writing in a systematic and methodical manner. The advice and techniques
mentioned in this chapter can greatly facilitate your ability to achieve the standards
required in the writing assignments. Discipline yourself to become a better writer and
use the available tools in your professional development. While it is not an easy task,
you can succeed if you work at it.

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CHAPTER 3

ACADEMIC ETHICS

3-1. Professional and academic ethics are of paramount importance to the college.
Work presented by students, staff, and faculty as their own must be their own. To do
otherwise results in unfair advantage and is inconsistent with professional ethics and
integrity. Academic ethics, as it relates to staff, faculty, and students and their duties at
the CGSC, is defined as the application of ethical principles in an academic
environment to include giving and receiving authorized assistance, the conduct of
legitimate research, and properly attributing credit to sources of information used in
written submissions.

This statement and the following amplifications of it assist the vast majority who want to
do the right thing, and thereby have a more productive learning experience. This policy
is not intended as a vehicle to incriminate those who might be inclined to violate
professional standards. Officers may be technically guilty of plagiarism, and subject to
the full penalties for it if they don’t document the sources of their information properly.
Ignorance is not a defense. Plagiarism, in any form, is strictly prohibited!

3-2. Documentation. Whenever you use other sources in your document, you may
quote the source directly, paraphrase, or summarize. When you reference sources use
the CGSC approved standard, which is Kate L. Turabian, A Manual for Writers of Term
Papers, Theses, and Dissertations.

3-3. Turabian explains how to document sources using either footnotes/endnotes and
bibliography, or parenthetical notes and reference list. However, the primary method for
essays at CGSC is to employ footnotes and a bibliography, Students should always
ensure they know the requirements of the specific essay assignment. When in doubt –
ask the instructor!

3-4. The Command and General Staff School (CGSS) provides The Concise
Command and General Staff School Style Guide (appendix A). This appendix is based
on Turabian and addresses common citation rules, use of quotations, bibliographic
entries, and paraphrasing.

Key Definitions

3-5. Key Definitions concerning academic violations of college policy are found in
CGSC Bulletin No. 920, Command and General Staff College Academic Ethics Policy.

3-6. Cheating. To act dishonestly, to violate rules, to practice fraud. The acts of
stealing, lying, and plagiarizing are considered cheating for purposes of Bulletin No.
920. Examples of cheating include, but are not limited to; copying answers from another
student during tests, copying examination answers from another mode of the course,
removing test booklets from the examination room after completion of the test unless
approved by the examination proctor, failing to turn in test booklets at the end of the
test, or using notes or unauthorized materials when taking examinations.

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3-7. Unauthorized collaboration. Working jointly with others on a project or written
assignment if that project or paper is assigned as an individual project, for the sole
purpose of acting dishonestly or practicing fraud. This may include, but is not limited to;
cooperating or allowing another student to copy one’s answers during an examination,
openly passing notes or discussing examination answers/solutions during the
examination, discussing the examination with a student who hasn’t yet taken the
examination, or receiving unauthorized assistance in preparing out-of-class
assignments.

3-8. Plagiarism. To present someone else’s ideas, words, data, or work as one’s own.
This includes both published and unpublished work.

Plagiarism, in any form, is strictly prohibited. Plagiarism includes, but is not limited to:

 Presenting as new and original an idea or product derived from an existing
source

 Presenting another’s writing as one’s own

 Copying words from a source without identifying those words with quotation
marks and/or endnotes

 Copying the words of another student

 Borrowing another student’s paper, handing in a paper purchased from an
individual or agency, or submitting papers from study groups or organizational
files

 Providing or asking for unauthorized assistance on exams, individual projects,
or group projects
 The direct lifting or transfer in whole or in part of computer based text
from websites, computer disks, and databases without placing that text in
quotes and properly footnoting the source

3-9. Unauthorized assistance. Unauthorized assistance is defined as any type
of assistance with assigned work product by any source not specifically allowed
by instructors or indicated in the course syllabus. Unauthorized assistance does
not include receiving proof-reading assistance or format assistance from
spouses, fellow students, or faculty. When you turn in your assignment, indicate
such formatting or proof reading assistance. Examples of unauthorized
assistance include the following:

 Possession or use of copies of solutions to practical exercises, examinations,
lessons, or any other controlled issue material used in any CGSC resident or
nonresident courses not issued by the faculty conducting the course or courses
in question, including materials used in prior years and in previous versions of
the courses taught within CGSC

 The transfer of any of the material listed in the above paragraph to anyone
unless specifically authorized to do so

 Assisting or receiving assistance from any person in completing practical
exercises, examinations, or the graded course requirements unless such
assistance is expressly authorized by the instructor

 Using information from previous examinations, to include information
contained in students’ notes or information obtained from students in section/staff

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groups who have already completed the core curriculum lesson or elective
course in question

3-10. Writing requirements. Students write in accordance with ST 22-2 unless
specifically instructed otherwise by the course or lesson instructor. Instructors
must state specifically what type of help a student may receive from faculty,
spouse, or other students for that course or lesson.

3-11. Group work. When an instructor assigns group work, the concept of team work
applies. This means that brainstorming, sharing of ideas, joint authorship, and critiquing
of each other’s work is important and critical to a successful project. Each member of
the group does his or her fair share of the effort. Groups will not delegate all or most of
the work on a project to one or two individuals. All group members participate equally in
the completion of the project.

When an instructor assigns similar projects to several groups, each group produces its
own solution or work product. Collaboration between groups to produce a common
solution is prohibited unless specifically permitted by the instructor. If an instructor
approves collaboration with other groups, the instructor will specify, in writing, the nature
and limits of the collaboration allowed. A group solution or project based in whole or in
part on help or collaboration with another group must indicate all such assistance
received by another group or individual. For example: “Our solution is based, in part, on
a decision matrix developed by Major Smith’s Group.”

3-12. Proofreading. Part of the learning process is talking with fellow students and
working on improving known weaknesses. As part of this learning process, CGSOC
students may ask their spouse or another individual to proofread papers for simple
punctuation, spelling errors, and clarity of expression. However, this assistance must be
noted on the paper. This type of assistance may not include any comment or correction
on the paper or project content or help with research.

3-13. Copyright laws. Copyright laws are specific and demanding. All papers submitted
by students and faculty will abide by all copyright laws. Students will not photocopy,
duplicate tape, or use other technologies in violation of these copyright laws. A violation
of copyright laws may subject an individual to civilian and/or criminal penalties. For
specific information on the use of copyrighted materials see CGSC Bulletin No.18,
Copyright Policies and General Guidelines, or contact the copyright coordinator at 913-
758-3018.

3-14. Professional standards. All members of the resident and nonresident college
community, to include staff, faculty, and students, must maintain the highest
professional standards and uphold the Army values. Authors are expected to do honest
research and, when they publish for personal recognition, to attribute credit to those
from whose work they borrow.

3-15. Evaluation process. To preclude compromising the evaluation process, students
will refrain from discussing or otherwise exchanging information on examinations or
quizzes within the hearing of those students who have not yet taken the examination or
quiz. The student evaluation process is designed to determine the assimilation and

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comprehension of each student for each course and to provide information for
curriculum design and improvement. Deliberate or unintentional disclosure of
examination or quiz content not only invalidates the evaluation process but could result
in punitive action being taken against the person who disclosed the information.

3-16. Use of computer language-analysis software. Departments and instructors allow
and encourage the use of spelling, grammar, and style checkers by students while
working on their written assignments. Language analysis software is a powerful tool for
learning and a quality control for writing. This software, unlike the dictionary or
composition text, “proofreads” writings and recommends changes based on “rules” set
up for that program. It flags potential problems and offers recommendations; the writer
makes the decisions. A writer may passively accept these recommendations, but a
good writer recognizes the program’s limitations as an analytic tool and bases decisions
on personal knowledge.

Because the final decision for accepting or rejecting the suggested change rests with
the writer, CGSC does not require students to acknowledge the use of these programs
in their written assignments.

Students are authorized to use college computers located in the classrooms, Hoge
Barracks, and ISCARL for written work. They may also bring a computer from home;
however, personal computers may not be connected to the college LAN.

Students are not authorized to use a personal computer belonging to another student
under any conditions. This prevents students from placing themselves accidentally in
harm’s way by unwittingly accessing another student’s work.

3-17. CGSC Circular 350-1, United States Army Command and General Staff College
Catalog states: Any student who is suspected of violating U.S. Army CGSC Academic
Ethics policy is subject to an Army Regulation (AR) 15-6 investigation that may result in
appropriate disciplinary action. See CGSC Bulletin No. 912, Command and General
Staff College (CGSC) Academic Misconduct Investigations and Student
Dismissal/Release Procedures, and CGSC Bulletin No. 920, Command and General
Staff College Academic Ethics Policy.

Reporting Procedures and Responsibilities

3-18. We expect all faculty and students to comply with the above academic ethical
standards regarding individual and group work done at the college. The following
reporting procedures are used when a violation is suspected:

Resident course. Students and faculty will report suspected violations to the class
SGA, section leader, or course instructor. During the initial investigation process, all
parties involved will ensure the rights of the suspected violator are protected. Prior to
speaking to or requesting a written statement from an individual suspected of violating
the provisions of CGSC academic ethics, the individual doing the questioning will inform
the suspect of his or her rights under either Article 31, Uniform Code of Military Justice
or the civilian equivalent.

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The SGA or course instructor will then investigate the allegation to the point he or she
believes, based on the information gathered, that a violation has occurred. They then
notify their department director, committee chief, or team leader who informs the college
chain of command. Legal advice will be obtained from the CGSC legal advisor as
necessary. If a school or department director reasonably believes that an ethics
violation has occurred, he or she forwards a memorandum to the Dean of Academics
recommending that an AR 15-6 investigation be initiated in accordance with CGSC
Bulletin No. 912, Command and General Staff College (CGSC) Academic Misconduct
Investigations and Student Dismissal/Release Procedures.

After receiving the information of the alleged violation, the Dean of Academics
determines if an investigation will be initiated. School and department directors notify
the senior representative of the AFELM, NAVELM, or MCELM of any suspected
violation by an officer of their respective service.

Non-Resident Courses

Distance Learning (DL). Adjunct faculty and CGSC students enrolled in DL reports
suspected violations of academic ethics to the Director, DDE. During the investigation
process, all parties involved in the investigation ensures compliance with CGSC policy,
applicable regulations, and the recognition of the rights of the suspected violators. The
Chief, Student Services, DDE conducts a preliminary investigation into the allegation in
accordance with local procedures and CGSC Bulletin No. 912 and forwards findings
and recommendations to the Director, DDE. The director, in conjunction with the
directorates whose coursework has been the subject of the alleged violation does the
following:

 Determine if an Academic Review Board is warranted in accordance with
CGSC policy

 If warranted, forward a memorandum to the dean of academics
recommending that an Academic Review Board be initiated

 Conduct investigations concerning adjunct faculty members and forward
findings to the appropriate division director

 As with the resident course, all parties involved in the investigation ensures
the rights of the suspected violator are protected

Professional Development Education (PDE) Brigades. TASS CGSOC Battalion and
PDE Brigade students who suspect an academic ethics violation report it to instructors
or section leaders, who then report all suspected violations to battalion commanders.

The battalion commander then establishes procedures for conducting a preliminary
inquiry to determine whether there is sufficient evidence to warrant an investigation.
This preliminary inquiry can be a simple as comparing the student’s paper and the
document that he or she is alleged to have plagiarized. If not, the preliminary inquiry
commander follows the procedures outlined in CGSC Bulletin No. 912.

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Academic Freedom

3-19. CGSC is an institution accredited by the North Central Association of Colleges
and Schools (NCACS), and subscribes to the American Association of University
Professors 1940 Statement on Academic Freedom. CGSC depends on the free flow of
ideas for its intellectual vitality. Indeed, the principles of adult education practiced by the
college are based on the importance of free thought in an academic environment. But,
this freedom also imposes certain obligations.

In the classroom, the college encourages aggressive examination of all academic
subjects. However, the debate naturally arising among professionals in such an
environment should be kept free from controversial matter having no relation to the
scheduled instruction.

Students, staff, and faculty are entitled to full freedom in research and publication of
results, consistent with the academic responsibilities of the CGSC. Nonetheless, these
efforts are subject to regulatory and statutory limitations, current public affairs policies,
copyright laws, security considerations, and the CGSC non-attribution policy.

When CGSC students, staff, and faculty speak or write on matters outside the purview
of the college, they are free from academic censorship or discipline. However, they
must remember that the public may judge their profession and the CGSC by what they
say. They should be accurate, exercise appropriate restraint, show respect for the
opinions of others, and make every effort to indicate that the views they express are
theirs and not necessarily those of the CGSC or Department of the Army (DA).

Statement on Academic Freedom and Responsibility

3-20. The U.S. Army CGSC believes academic freedom for its faculty and students is
fundamental and essential to the health of the academic institution. Without academic
freedom, the uninhibited search for insight and knowledge is impossible. At the same
time, certain individual responsibilities are inherent in the time-honored tradition of free
speech. Academic integrity requires that each of us pursues factual accuracy and
safeguard classified information. The combination of individual responsibility and
academic freedom contributes to the institutional integrity of the CGSC and includes the
following principal elements:

 Freedom to discuss, in a non-attribution manner within a classroom, any
material or ideas relevant to the subject matter supporting course objectives

 Freedom to teach, conduct research, and publish research findings

 Freedom to seek changes in academic and institutional policies

 Responsibility to ensure specified institutional learning objectives are
achieved

 Responsibility to pursue excellence, intellectual honesty, and objectivity in
teaching

 Responsibility to encourage faculty, students, and colleagues to engage in
free discussion and inquiry

 Responsibility to encourage and nurture innovative, critical reasoning and
creative thinking, discussion, and writing in all areas supportive of the curriculum

ST 22-2

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 Responsibility that information is presented objectively; a particular point of
view may be advanced, as long as the right to further inquiry and consideration
remains unabridged

 Responsibility to assess the claims of others with respect and objectively

 Responsibility to uphold scholarly standards for research and publication

Non-Attribution Policy

3-21. Full freedom of expression is encouraged during all academic endeavors at the
college. CGSC wants students, faculty, and guest speakers to speak freely and openly
about the many important subjects and studies presented at the college. Guest
speakers are encouraged to speak openly to CGSC staff, faculty, and students without
invoking the college’s non-attribution policy so that their comments may be used by the
students and instructors throughout the course. However, when a guest speaker does
invoke the college’s non-attribution policy during their presentation, nothing the speaker
says during the presentation may be attributed to them by name, position, or title to any
outside source to include news media, public forums, or published writings. Because
many guest speaker presentations are videotaped for later use throughout the college,
when a guest speaker requests application of the non-attribution policy, they will also
indicate how long they want the policy to apply to their comments. If journalists or media
representatives are present during the guest speaker’s presentation, the non-attribution
policy does not apply.

ST 22-2

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Chapter 4

MILITARY BRIEFINGS

“There are two types of speakers, those that are nervous and those that are liars.”

Mark Twain

4-1. Importance of briefings. What you say and how you say it is leadership. Effective
communication and the ability to present logical, meaningful, and relevant information in
a briefing is a critical staff skill. The commanders we work for have many decisions to
make and very little time to analyze the issues impacting these decisions. They depend
greatly on their staffs to conduct this analysis and make sound and logical
recommendations. In order to instill the confidence necessary to go with your
recommendation, you must effectively communicate or brief the recommendation and
supporting logic. Your ability to seize the opportunity, command the audience, and
control the briefing directly influences the outcome of your briefing. Hours of analysis
could be wasted if the briefer cannot accomplish this task.

4-2. Characteristics of good briefings.

4-3. Types of military briefings. Your primary source for the types and formats of
military briefings is FM 6-0, Commander and Staff Organization and Operations, chapter
7. Each type of briefing has a specific purpose and format that impacts how you
approach planning and preparing for the briefing.

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4-4. Steps of military briefings. You will normally follow four steps when preparing an
effective briefing: plan, prepare, execute, and assess. During the planning step, you will
analyze the situation and prepare a briefing outline. Who is the audience? What is the
purpose (to inform; to get a decision)? What is the subject? Why is it important? What
are the critical points? What resources are needed? How much time is available? With
this analysis complete, you will then prepare a briefing outline and timeline to ensure the
briefing meets the needs of the audience and is in the proper format.

Regardless of the type of briefing, the information presented must be effectively
communicated to the audience. The use of a standard format is critical. Decision
makers have little time and they rely on formats so they know where to look for the
critical information. Once the briefing is constructed and rehearsed you will deliver the
briefing. During the preparation step, you will refine the briefing, prepare visual aids, and
complete your rehearsals. During the execution phase, good briefers exude confidence
and clearly communicate the material. While delivering the briefing, you or an assistant
must take notes to capture the communication occurring between participants and the
audience. During the assessment step, after completing the briefing, you must address
all issues that arose during the briefing and follow-up on each. These may be
addressed through further coordination, fact sheets, or decision papers.

4-5. Standards of effective communication. The standard for effective communication
(written, verbal, and briefing) during CGSOC includes the elements of substance, style,
organization, and correctness. Substance and organization breaks down into three
areas; introduction, body, and closing.

4-6. Introduction. Refer to FM 6-0 when preparing your briefing to ensure you include
all of the required elements for the particular type of briefing you are preparing. The
introduction includes the greeting, type and classification of the briefing, purpose,
references, and outline. You should greet or address the key person(s) in the audience
with the appropriate greeting of the day. You should announce the purpose of the
briefing and answer the question, “Why are we briefing this?” This is the bottom line up
front (BLUF). Last, you should provide a “roadmap” or outline to orient the audience as
to the direction of the briefing.

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4-7. Body. As in a written essay, the body of a briefing is where the substance of
thought and the main content of information is communicated. You establish credibility
as the subject matter expert on the topic by using appropriate supporting information
and describing the significance of that information. Is the information relevant to the
topic? Is it relevant to the audience? Is the information supported by appropriate
evidence?

Note: The type of briefing dictates the type and sequence of information provided
in the body.

Next is sequence. Does the briefing follow a logical flow? Is the briefing easy to follow?
The last area is transitions. These are the linkages from slide to slide/idea to idea.
These help the brief flow smoothly and aid in maintaining the audience’s attention.

Note: Staff officers must always prepare for formal presentation settings based
on the audience.

4-8. Themes. One theme–one message. Within the body of the briefing it is critical to
have one theme or message. The theme may have several subtopics to further define
or explain the topic. As part of the “analyze the situation” step, you must analyze the
time available to brief the audience. Time is the main factor in determining the number
of subtopics used in the briefing. You should provide examples to demonstrate the
significance of each topic (evidence). It is also important to nest outlines or summaries
to keep the audience on track when using multiple subtopics.

4-9. Transitions. Transitions assist the audience in following the logic of the
information in the briefing.

Note: Transitions are especially important if you have more than one person
presenting information during the briefing.

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4-10. Common mistakes. Some of the common mistakes briefers make with transitions
are listed here. Transitions generally do not come naturally, they must be rehearsed. It
is often helpful to place sticky notes or other reminders on your notes to help you
develop the use of transitions.

4-11. Closing. The closing includes the questions, summary, and conclusion. These
are generally self-explanatory. You should entertain as many questions as time allows,
then provide a summary and conclusion.

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4-12. Handling questions. Giving the audience an opportunity to ask questions is an
important part of the briefing. It provides the briefing officer the opportunity to clarify
information, demonstrate knowledge of the material, and to reiterate the importance of
the information relative to a problem or issue.

4-13. Summary and conclusion. Don’t confuse the summary with the conclusion.
Information briefings have both and they serve different purposes. The summary is a
recap of the main points of your briefing, it should look very close to your outline. This is
your opportunity to drive home any important ideas you have covered in the briefing. Be
sure not to introduce any new material during the summary. The conclusion is your
chance to give the “so what” of the briefing and make any lasting impressions on your
audience. Explain, succinctly, why the material is important, how it relates to the
audience or organization and sets the stage for future work etc.

4-14. Style and correctness. Style and correctness focus primarily on the skills of the
briefer and correctness or relevance of the briefing aids.

4-15. Style. The first area, style, is divided into four areas; physical behavior, speaking
voice, vocabulary, and enthusiasm/confidence. Physical behavior pertains to how you
handle yourself under the pressure of the briefing. Do you present yourself as the
confident subject matter expert or do you cower behind the lectern and just suffer
through the process?

You may be the subject matter expert, but if you can’t convince the audience that you
know what you are talking about, you have just wasted everyone’s time.

4-16. Eye contact. One of the most critical elements of the physical dimension is eye
contact. Eye contact communicates confidence and trust. It also helps you read your
audience’s body language. In order to maintain effective eye contact you have to know
your material inside and out. Rehearse, rehearse, and rehearse! While briefing, you
have to establish a bond with the audience. Pick a person and talk directly to him for 5
to 10 seconds, then shift to someone else. This keeps the audience alert and involved
and helps calm your nervousness. Watch the body language of the group to see if they
are bored, interested, confused, etc.

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4-17. Movement. Depending on your audience and how formal the briefing is, you may
have the option to move around during the presentation. Movement serves both you
and your audience. It allows you to get rid of nervous energy and emphasize the points
you want to make. For your audience, it gives them a moving target to focus on. This
helps maintain their attention throughout the briefing. Like most aspects of oral
presentations, it’s important to maintain a comfortable demeanor. This varies from
person to person. Keep in mind that you want to engage the audience, keep them
interested in what you have to say and avoid distracting them with annoying or
obnoxious movements.

4-18. Gestures. Use gestures to help emphasize key points and reinforce the
importance of critical portions of your briefing. Gestures also help to keep the
audience’s attention and stimulate their ability to remember the key points made by the
briefer. Don’t over-do gestures, rehearse them and ensure they are natural and
convincing.

Some common annoying and distracting gestures and movements you should avoid
include: putting your hands in your pockets or on your hips, turning your back to the
audience, rocking back and forth, pacing, excessive moving around, marching, and the
jittery pointer (sword or wand).

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4-19. Speaking. Be aware of the volume and pace of your delivery. The briefer must
speak loud enough for all in the room to hear clearly, and slow enough to be understood
(without putting the audience to sleep). Many people tend to speak faster during a
briefing than in normal conversation. Several techniques can help you develop an
appropriate rate of speech: time yourself when you rehearse, have someone listen to
you when you rehearse, consciously slow your delivery pace, and learn to pause and
take a breath.

Another consideration is your tone, you should strive to speak in a conversational
manner. This means varying the pitch of your voice and injecting interest in your
subject. The audience should sense a degree of ownership as you brief.

Finally, work on reducing filler words. For some people filler words are a normal habit of
speech and hard to recognize without help. This again is where it is very helpful to have
someone listen to your rehearsal and ask them for feedback.

4-20. Vocabulary. Vocabulary concerns the word selection used in the briefing. You
should use words that clearly communicate the theme of the brief. Pronounce these
words correctly and enunciate them clearly. If you use acronyms, define the acronym
the first time to ensure the audience has a common understanding. Enthusiasm and
confidence speak to the briefer’s ability to take ownership of the briefing. You should be
energetic and demonstrate confidence in the delivery of the briefing.

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4-21. Speaker anxiety. For some people speaker anxiety and nervousness is a
significant problem and can really hurt their presentation skills. Most people are always
at least a little nervous when speaking in public, this is only natural and can actually be
a positive thing. However, if you dread speaking publically and it renders your
presentations ineffective, then you need to take positive steps to overcome this
problem.

Preparation is essential, it helps you learn the material, figure out where your
vulnerabilities are and helps you overcome your nerves. Some of the other techniques
in this chapter also help you with anxiety. If you are overly nervous about public
speaking don’t try to present your entire briefing from memory. Learn the material as
well as possible, and focus on presenting the content in a conversational manner with
some well-prepared notes to help que your memory as needed.

Practice is always the best technique to improve your briefing skills. For nervous
briefers, the natural tendency is to avoid public speaking all together. This is the wrong
approach and ultimately exposes your weakness and potentially hurts your reputation.
As a professional, public speaking is an increasingly prominent requirement in future
assignments. Learn what works for you and seek opportunities to get the practice and
feedback you need to hone your speaking skills.

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4-22. Enthusiasm. Enthusiasm is contagious. If you are excited about your topic, you
generally present a better briefing. Remember, your commander and audience are
thinking, “If you don’t think it is important, then why are you briefing this to me?”

4-23. Rehearsals. Practice and rehearsals matter. Rehearse initially in your office. At
some point you have to rehearse in the actual location. How do you operate the devices
(this is part of your technical rehearsal)? Where is the pointer? Do you have handouts?
Are they in the right order? Do you want to plant questions in the audience? As you see,
it covers much more than just reading your slides and notes. The rule of thumb is 10
practice runs. You may need more, or you may get by with less, depending on your
level of experience. Bottom line, if you fail to prepare, you are preparing for failure.

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4-24. Correctness. For briefings, correctness focuses on the use and format of your
visual aids, slides, and graphics. Your visual aids should complement your briefing.

Note: What you are briefing and how you communicate with the audience is the
most important aspect of effective communication.

Your visual aids should be neat, simple, legible, and illustrate key points.

4-25. Visual aids. Above all other considerations, visual aids must be readable to the
audience. Consider the aspects of the visual aid that directly contributes to or detracts
from its readability. Ensure you use conventional capitalization and correct spelling. Use
bullet comments and don’t crowd the slide. Often the message is lost because the slide
is too busy. Be consistent and use the same font sizes throughout as much as possible.
You should use Arial or similar font and font sizes of 18 point and above. When you use
a slide like a mission statement, it is helpful to use contrasting font colors to highlight the
key points of the slide. Ensure your graphics and animation are relative to the topic and
not just “bells and whistles.” Bottom line is that all your visual aids should focus the
audience on the message.

4-26. Assessment. The assessment tool for speaking is CGSS Form 1009S and is
located in the Blackboard Master Library in the Communication Skills Resources Folder.

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CHAPTER 5

THE STAFF OFFICER

5-1. Most officers spend more than 80% of their career in staff positions, serving on
different staffs and levels of command. The primary responsibility of the staff is
threefold:

 Support the commander

 Assist subordinate commanders, staffs, and units

 Inform units and organizations outside the headquarters

Although staff officers help each commander accomplish the mission differently, the
characteristics are the same among successful staff officers. Staffs support and advise
the commander within their area of expertise. Staffs help subordinate headquarters
understand the larger context of operations. Staffs keep units well informed. Effective
knowledge management helps staffs identify the information the commander and each
staff element need, and its relative importance.

5-2. Staff officer characteristics.

5-3. Competence. As a staff officer, you are expected to be an expert in your
particular field and position. you must be well versed in doctrine and able to coordinate
actions both horizontally and vertically.

5-4. Initiative. You must have the initiative to anticipate requirements. Don’t wait for
your boss to give specific guidance on when and where to act. Anticipate what the
commander needs and any unanswered questions in order to make an informed
decision.

5-5. Critical and creative thinking. Staffs create and preserve options for commanders
to make decisions. You must strive to determine the truth in any matter in order to
facilitate the needs of the operations process. You will use creative researching
solutions to solve difficult, unique, and complex situations. Creative thinking and critical
reasoning are skills that aid you in developing and analyzing courses of action.

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You must seek ways to support subordinate units and don’t say no to a subordinate unit
commander unless you have cleared it with the commander.

5-6. Adaptive. Commanders frequently change their mind or direction after receiving
additional information or a new requirement from their commander. Remain flexible and
adjust to the needs and desires of the commander. You must rapidly adjust and
continually assess plans, tactics, techniques, and procedures.

5-7. Flexible. Understand that all staff work serves the commander, even if he rejects
your recommendation. Do not become overwhelmed and frustrated by the changes
required by the commander and mission objectives. Staff officers must remain flexible
and understand that changes happen, often times with no apparent reason. Never
forget that your work is essential to the mission and your unit’s success regardless of
the commander’s decisions.

5-8. Discipline and self-confidence. As a staff officer, discipline requires a certain
sense of selflessness. Remember your purpose and always conduct your work in a way
that supports the commander and ultimately the Soldiers in the organization. You must
give a full effort even if you believe the commander will disagree with your
recommendations. Quality staff work always helps inform decision-making and the
operations process.

5-9. Team player. Effective staff officers must work with people in a constructive
manner. Successful staff work is a collaborative effort, requiring interaction and effective
coordination within your organization and with higher and lower commanders and staffs.

5-10. Reflective. Staff officers need to assess their actions and adjust as necessary to
ensure future success. Upon completion of actions, they analyze and assess events to
implement measures that maximize efficiencies in the future.

5-11. Clear communicator. Effective communications encompass competence in
writing, speaking, and listening. These competencies ensure the success of the staff
officer. You will routinely write concise papers, brief senior officers and accurately
interpret guidance. Another part of being an effective communicator is being proficient
with current computer technology. You will have requirements to produce visual briefing
products such as charts, graphs, slides, or other multimedia briefing products.

5-12. The staff’s role. The commander is responsible for all that his or her organization
does or fails to do, and always retains the ultimate responsibility to make the final
decision. The staff officer’s job is to assist the commander in making that final decision.
Staffs must provide the commander with the necessary, timely, and correct information
to make the right decisions. As a staff officer, your job is to accomplish the
commander’s intent by operating within your assigned authority to perform the duties in
your area of expertise. Your efforts relieve the commander of routine and detailed work.

5-13. Staff actions. The staff officer assists the commander, helps communicate intent,
and acts as an extension of the commander. Staff actions contribute to mission
accomplishment and the procedures employed must be the means to accomplish the
mission and the commander’s intent. Some examples of typical staff actions are:

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 Advise and provide information

 Produce staff estimates

 Course of action development

 Plan and execute conferences

 Conduct inspections

 Produce staff writings and briefings

 Conduct research

Any activity conducted by a staff officer at the direction of the commander is considered
a “staff action.”

5-14. Advise and provide information. The staff must continuously feed the commander
information. One piece of information alone is not significant, but added to others it may
be the information that allows the commander to formulate the big picture and to make a
decision. You must remember that you will work multiple issues at the same time.
Information must be presented in the proper context and be relevant to prevent wasting
yours and the commander’s time.

5-15. Produce staff estimates. Estimates assist the commander in decision-making.
Estimates consist of significant facts, events, conclusions, and recommendations on
how to best use available resources while identifying additional resources you require.
Commanders use recommendations to select feasible courses of action for further
analysis. Adequate plans hinge on early and continuing estimates. The staff’s failure to
make or update these estimates could lead to errors or omissions in the development of
a course of action. (e.g. staff officer maintaining a current estimate of the situation in
their areas of interest, in coordination with other staffs.)

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5-16. Conduct staff writing. You are expected to be an effective writer. You must
articulate the commander’s intent and guidance through operation orders, plans, staff
studies, staff summaries, and reports. You should prepare the product as if you were
going to sign it or brief it yourself. To adequately assist the commander, you must have
the ability to transform the commander’s intent and guidance into written policy.

5-17. Problem solving. Staff officers cannot just be data collectors and transmitters.
You must be able to analyze and clearly articulate information. The staff collects,
collates, analyzes, processes, and disseminates information that flows continuously into
the headquarters. The staff rapidly processes and provides critical elements of this
information to the commander and other members of the staff.

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5-18. Staff coordination. Staff coordination is essential for several reasons. It ensures a
thorough understanding of the commander’s intent. It serves as the integrating function
in management and is vital to any planned activity. Coordination ensures complete and
coherent staff actions. It enables the staff officer to avoid conflict and duplication by
adjusting plans or policies before their implementation to ensure all factors are
considered. It is a systematic way of communicating with organizations and staffs at all
levels.

5-19. Keys to coordination. Coordination is necessary to ensure a smooth running
operation. Listed are some keys to success that many inexperienced officers often
overlook.

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5-20. Coordination “must do’s.” While learning to coordinate isn’t hard, it requires
initiative and perception. As soon as you report to your new job, you must:

 Observe what’s going on around you

 Find out who’s making things happen

 Get a copy of the organization or installation staff officer’s guide

To find out what’s going on review these documents:

 Mission statement: this helps you determine the mission, goals, and priorities

 Organization and functions manual: this document can help you identify
functions, positions, and responsibilities and locate where you fit in

 Office and computer files: review these for background and precedents on
actions for which you are responsible

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APPENDIX A

THE CONCISE COMMAND AND GENERAL STAFF SCHOOL STYLE GUIDE

This guide addresses common citing rules as described in the Kate Turabian’s A
Manual for Writers of Research Papers, Theses, and Dissertations (Ninth edition).

Citation Styles

Turabian describes the two most common citation styles: notes-bibliography style or
simply bibliography, and author-date style. Bibliography style features footnotes or end
notes; and the author-date style uses parenthetical citations. The Turabian manual
provides detailed guidance on the correct formats to site sources using these two styles.
Citation styles lend themselves to different academic writing requirements. CGSC does
not dictate citation styles. Lesson authors determine the appropriate citation style for
their specific writing requirements (essays, manuscripts, exams, etc.).

Ideas or data forming the core of common knowledge do not require citation. Careful
citation of all other ideas, data, and quotations is especially important when
paraphrasing and should protect the writer from the possibility of plagiarism.

Subsequent References to Previously Cited Material in Footnotes or Endnotes

When citing references previously cited in full in earlier footnotes or endnotes:

Use Ibid. (from ibidem, “in the same place”; always takes a period) when referring to
the identical source and page number as in the previous source (footnote or endnote
immediately preceding the current footnote or endnote). For example:

1 James Willbanks, Abandoning Vietnam: How America Left and South Vietnam Lost
Its War (Lawrence, KS: University Press of Kansas, 2004), 46.
2 Ibid.
Use Ibid. and the page number, if only the page number differs from the immediately
preceding reference. For example:

1 James Willbanks, Abandoning Vietnam: How America Left and South Vietnam Lost
Its War (Lawrence, KS: University Press of Kansas, 2004), 46.
2 Ibid., 24.

The second, nonconsecutive reference to a work already cited in full requires an
abbreviated format: last name of author, shortened title of book, page number. This
makes it easier for the reader to identify when you are introducing a new source. For
example:

2 James Willbanks, Abandoning Vietnam: How America Left and South Vietnam Lost
Its War, (Lawrence, KS: University Press of Kansas, 2004), 46.
14 Willbanks, Abandoning Vietnam, 48.

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Direct Quotations

Authors should enclose direct quotations of four or less lines in quotation marks inside
the main text. Failure to cite a direct quotation is plagiarism. Set quotations of five or
more lines apart from the text by indenting and single-spacing them without quotation
marks. The superscript endnote or footnote number usually appears at the end of such
indented text.

Bibliography

A bibliography is required only if sources other than course materials are used. The
bibliography should follow the endnotes (if used), or the last page of text if footnotes are
used. Arrange bibliography alphabetically (last name first) and group according to type
of source (books, Internet, periodicals, etc.). Refer to style rules in Turabian for
complete details.

Internet and Electronic Sources

Citation of Internet and electronic sources remains in transition. The principal rule is that
the source must be traceable, so that the reader can locate the source. If you are in
doubt as to the site’s stability or longevity, download and print the file. If you have any
questions, consult your instructor for detailed guidance. Commonly cited information
includes the source of the site (generally an organization or individual), title, date
website last revised, web address, and date accessed. (See examples below for
format.) Researchers beware. While information found in books and scholarly journals is
routinely subject to scholarly review, the same level of fact checking and evaluation may
be lacking for information and articles on the Internet. For that reason, do not use
Wikipedia or similar uncontrolled sources for information.

EXAMPLE BIBLIOGRAPHY AND NOTE FORMAT

The following examples illustrate the appropriate documentation for works commonly
cited by CGSC students and not addressed specifically in the above references. These
are the accepted formats for such entries. Otherwise, use the examples in Turabian.

1. Field Manual

Bibliography:
US, Department of the Army. FM 25-100, Training the Force. Washington, DC:
Government Printing Office, November 1988.

Note:
1 Department of the Army, FM 25-100, Training the Force (Washington, DC:
Government Printing Office, November 1988), 121.

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2. Book of Readings

Bibliography:
Clausewitz, Carl von. “What is War?” On War. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University
Press, 1976, 75–89. Excerpt reprinted in US Army Command and General Staff
College, H100 Book of Readings, 50–61. Fort Leavenworth, KS: USACGSC, July
1992.

Note:
1 Carl von Clausewitz, “What is War?” On War (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University
Press, 1976), 75–89; excerpt reprinted in US Army Command and General Staff
College, H100 Book of Readings (Fort Leavenworth, KS: USACGSC, July 1992), 55.

[List author by first name first in the note and last name first in the
alphabetical bibliography.]

Bibliography:
Howard, Michael. “Military Science in an Age of Peace.” RUSI, Journal of the Royal
United Services Institute for Defence Studies 119 (March 1974): 3–9. Reprinted in
US Army Command and General Staff College, H100 Book of Readings, 205–11.
Fort Leavenworth, KS: USACGSC, July 1992.

Note:
1 Michael Howard, “Military Science in an Age of Peace,” RUSI, Journal of the Royal
United Services Institute for Defence Studies 119 (March 1974); reprinted in US
Army Command and General Staff College, H100 Book of Readings (Fort
Leavenworth: USACGSC, July 1992), 210.

3. Books

Your research may require the use of individual pages and/or chapters within a book
written by different authors and edited by someone other than the author. The
following example is a chapter from a book used throughout the course:

Bibliography:
Herwig, Holger H. “Innovation Ignored: The Submarine Problem—Germany, Britain,
and the United States, 1919–1939.” In Military Innovation in the Interwar Period,
Edited by Williamson Murray and Allan R. Millett, 227–264. Cambridge, UK:
Cambridge University Press, 1996.

Note:
1 Holger H. Herwig, “Innovation Ignored: The Submarine Problem—Germany,
Britain, and the United States, 1919–1939,” in Military Innovation in the Interwar
Period, ed. Williamson Murray and Allan R. Millett (Cambridge, UK: Cambridge
University Press, 1996), 229.

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4. Journal Articles

Following is an example using a common source (Military Review) of research topics
and information.

Bibliography:
Karcher, Timothy M. “The Victory Disease.” Military Review 83, no 1. (July–August
2003): 9–17.

Note:
2 Timothy M. Karcher, “The Victory Disease,” Military Review 83, no 1. (July–August
2003): 11.

5. Leavenworth Papers

Following is an example using a common source from the Leavenworth Papers
series of professional writings.

Bibliography:
Doughty, Robert A. The Evolution of US Army Tactical Doctrine, 1946–76.
Leavenworth Papers No. 1. Fort Leavenworth, KS: Combat Studies Institute, 1979.
(Reprinted 2001)

Note:
3 Robert A. Doughty, The Evolution of US Army Tactical Doctrine, 1946–76,
Leavenworth Papers No. 1 (Fort Leavenworth, KS: Combat Studies Institute, 1979,
reprinted 2001), 28.

6. Electronic and Web-based Sources

Bibliography:
US Department of the Army, Center For Army Lessons Learned. Urban Combat
Operations—References. Fort Leavenworth, KS: Center for Army Lessons Learned,
2002. CD ROM; available from CALL.

Note:
4 Department of the Army, Center For Army Lessons Learned. Urban Combat
Operations—References (Fort Leavenworth, KS: Center for Army Lessons Learned,
2002) [CD ROM]; available from CALL.

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Bibliography:
Royal Air Force. The Battle of Britain History Site. The Battle of Britain—
Commanders. Delta Web International, 2000. Access date.
http://www.raf.mod.uk/bob1940/bob.

Note:
5 Royal Air Force. The Battle of Britain History Site. The Battle of Britain—
Commanders Delta Web International, 2000, Access date.
http://www.raf.mod.uk/bob1940/bob.

Bibliography:
Paret, Peter, ed. Makers of Modern Strategy: from Machiavelli to the Nuclear Age.
Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1986. Kindle edition, 2007.

Note:
6 Felix Gilbert, “Machiavelli: The Renaissance of the Art of War.” In Makers of
Modern Strategy: from Machiavelli to the Nuclear Age. Princeton, NJ: Princeton
University Press, 1986, chap. 1. Kindle edition, 2007.

7. Computer Based Instruction (CBI) in Blackboard

Bibliography:
Department of the Army, CGSC, Blackboard, “H101,” Military Revolution/Revolution
in Military Affairs, (31-03) accessed May 15, 2017,
https://cgsc.blackboard.com/bbcswebdav/pid-969229-dt-content-rid-
13726751_1/institution/CGSC/AY18-
19/ADL_PH2/Student/H100s/H101/interface/interface.html?unlock

Note:
4 Department of the Army, CGSC, Blackboard, “H101,” Military
Revolution/Revolution in Military Affairs, (31-03) accessed May 15, 2017,
https://cgsc.blackboard.com/bbcswebdav/pid-969229-dt-content-rid-
13726751_1/institution/CGSC/AY18-
19/ADL_PH2/Student/H100s/H101/interface/interface.html?unlock

https://cgsc.blackboard.com/bbcswebdav/pid-969229-dt-content-rid-13726751_1/institution/CGSC/AY18-19/ADL_PH2/Student/H100s/H101/interface/interface.html?unlock

https://cgsc.blackboard.com/bbcswebdav/pid-969229-dt-content-rid-13726751_1/institution/CGSC/AY18-19/ADL_PH2/Student/H100s/H101/interface/interface.html?unlock

https://cgsc.blackboard.com/bbcswebdav/pid-969229-dt-content-rid-13726751_1/institution/CGSC/AY18-19/ADL_PH2/Student/H100s/H101/interface/interface.html?unlock

https://cgsc.blackboard.com/bbcswebdav/pid-969229-dt-content-rid-13726751_1/institution/CGSC/AY18-19/ADL_PH2/Student/H100s/H101/interface/interface.html?unlock

https://cgsc.blackboard.com/bbcswebdav/pid-969229-dt-content-rid-13726751_1/institution/CGSC/AY18-19/ADL_PH2/Student/H100s/H101/interface/interface.html?unlock

https://cgsc.blackboard.com/bbcswebdav/pid-969229-dt-content-rid-13726751_1/institution/CGSC/AY18-19/ADL_PH2/Student/H100s/H101/interface/interface.html?unlock

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APPENDIX B

EDITING SYMBOLS

Faculty may use these symbols as shorthand to identify errors or questions arising in
assessment of written products. To the right of each symbol is a brief explanation.
Some of these symbols are original, and unique to CGSC; others (including some with
modifications) come from a variety of sources, including the Prentice Hall Handbook for
Writers (currently out of print) and The Gregg Reference Manual, tribute edition.
Symbols sometimes combine for a fuller, more definitive identification of a problem.
When interpreting the editing symbols see the left-hand column to find the symbol, and
then look to the right for an explanation.

Symbol Explanation

ab Inappropriate or incorrect abbreviation.

ad Improper use of an adjective or adverb.

agr Agreement error: subject-verb, pronoun-antecedent, or adjective-noun.

awk This is awkward–there’s a better way to say this.

BF BOLD font.

bluf State the thesis statement (bottom line) up front.

coh These words or sentences aren’t well connected.

coord Faulty coordination.

cs Comma splice.

cw or wc Choice of word–there’s a better word than this.

dglm Dangling modifier.

doc Document your sources.

emp? The emphasis in this sentence is not where it should be.

frag Sentence fragment, incomplete sentence.

GIB Gibberish. This sentence does not make sense.

gr Grammar error.

ital italics.

lc Make this letter or WORD lowercase.

log This seems illogical. These statements don’t agree.

log (p __) This isn’t consistent with your statement on page__.

mm Misplaced modifier.

p Punctuation error.

pas or PV Inappropriate use of the passive voice.

poss Possessive error.

RED redundant.

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ref Unclear pronoun reference.

ROS Run-on sentence.

RTQ/ATQ Read the question / answer the question.

seq Bad sequencing. Change the order.

sh Inappropriate shift in tense, person, number, or tone.

sp Spelling error.

SO Spell out.

spt Support–you need to explain or prove this.

ss This sentence does not make sense.

sub Faulty subordination.

SVM Subject-Verb mismatch (singular/plural or plural/singular).

sum Summarize your important parts (for an introduction or transition).

tone Inappropriate tone.

ts I think this is your controlling idea, (thesis).

ts? I can’t find your thesis statement.

ts:v Your thesis statement is vague or unfocused.

ts (p__) I think your thesis statement is on page ____.

UL Underline.

v Vague or ambiguous–what do you mean here?

var You need more variety in structure or word choice.

VT Verb tense error or disagreement.

w Wordy–you can say this in less space.

wc or cw Word choice (wrong word for this meaning or context).

≡ Capitalize a lowercase letter or word.

Weak or no connection (coherence) between these.

Delete the items marked.

Start a new paragraph here.

no Don’t start a paragraph here.

??? Is this right? Did you mean to say this?

Faulty parallelism.

˄ or ˅ Insert a word or punctuation. May be combined with other symbols for
clarity.

Close up–make these two one word.

# Insert space.

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~ or tr Transpose; change sequence as indicated.

ss[ Single space.

ds[ Double space.

↓ Subscript.

↑ Superscript.

┤n Indent (number of spaces).

There is a problem here (probably combined with a proofreading symbol).

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APPENDIX C

AN ARGUMENTATIVE ANALYSIS CHECKLIST

Examine the elements of an argument using the criteria below.

Thesis
-What is the writer’s thesis? Is it clear and concise? Does it plainly state a
position and the reasons for that position?
-What claims are being asserted? Do those claims support the thesis?
-What assumptions are being made–are they acceptable?
-Are important terms defined? Are terms used that are broad, vague or
ambiguous?

Supporting Evidence
-What support is offered on behalf of the argument?
-Are statistics (if there are any) relevant, accurate, and complete?
-Is there authoritative testimony used as evidence and if authorities are cited, are
they indeed expert on this topic, and can they be regarded as impartial?

Other Considerations
-Is the logic apparent? What type is used-deductive and inductive? Is it valid?
-Are there any obvious fallacies of logic in the argument?
-Is there an emotional appeal in the argument? Is its use excessive?
-Does the writer seem to be fair?
-Are counterarguments adequately considered?
-Is there any obvious dishonesty or unscrupulous attempt to manipulate the
reader?

IS THE ARGUMENT PERSUASIVE? WHY OR WHY NOT?

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APPENDIX D

WRITING RESOURCES

Books

The Allyn & Bacon Guide to Writing, Brief Edition (8th Edition), Ramage et. al., 2018

The Bedford Handbook / 11th Edition, Diana Hacker and Nancy Sommers. 2019

The Little, Brown Handbook, 14th Edition, H. Ramsey Fowler et. al,, 2018

The McGraw-Hill Handbook of English Grammar and Usage, 2nd Edition, Lester and
Beason, 2013

Prentice Hall Handbook for Writers, 12th Edition, Kramer et. al., 1995

The St. Martin’s Guide to Writing, 12th Edition, Alexrod and Cooper,
2019

The St. Martin’s Handbook, 8th Edition, Andrea A. Lunsford, 2015

A Writer’s Reference, 9th Edition, Diana Hacker and Nancy Sommers, 2017

A Manual for Writers of Research Papers, Theses, and Dissertations, Ninth Edition,
Turabian et. al., 2018

The Chicago Manual of Style, Seventeenth Edition, Univ. Chicago Press Editorial Staff,
2017

Online Websites

Purdue Online Writing Lab (OWL) https://owl.english.purdue.edu/

The Writing Center at UNC- Chapel Hill http://writingcenter.unc.edu/

Liberty University Online Writing Center http://www.liberty.edu/index.cfm?PID=17176

Utah State University Department of English Writing Center http://writing.usu.edu/

George Mason University Writing Center http://writingcenter.gmu.edu/

The University of Iowa Writing Center http://writingcenter.uiowa.edu/

https://owl.english.purdue.edu/

Home

http://www.liberty.edu/index.cfm?PID=17176

http://writing.usu.edu/

http://writingcenter.gmu.edu/

http://writingcenter.uiowa.edu/

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APPENDIX E

INDEX

A
Army standard for communication, 1-2
Academic ethics, 3-1
Academic freedom, 3-19
Active voice, 1-2, 1-6
Analytical essay, 2-40
Argumentative essay, 2-39
Assessing writing, 2-37

B
Briefing types, 4-3
Briefing steps, 4-4
Briefing standards, 4-5
Briefing style and correctness, 4-14
Briefing rehearsals, 4-23
Briefing transitions, 4-9

C
Clarify the requirement, 2-19
Creative thinking, 1-14
Critical thinking, 1-13
Compare and contrast essay, 2-42
Copyright laws, 3-13
Correctness, 2-9

D
Decision making, 1-15
Drafting, 2-22

E
Editing, 2-27
Essay format, 2-29
Essay types, 2-38
Evaluation process, 3-12
Evidence, 2-33
Expository essay, 2-41

F
Fallacies, 2-36
Fundamentals of argumentation, 2-32

G
General Writing Guidelines, 2-43
Gestures, 4-18
Group work, 3-11

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H
Handling questions, 4-12

K
Key definitions of academic ethics, 3-5

L
Logic, 2-35

M
Military briefings, 4-1
Military briefings types, 4-3
Mind mapping, 2-21

N
Naming Convention, 2-30
Non-attribution policy, 3-21

O
Organization, 2-7
Outline, 2-21

P
Packaging, 1-11
Paragraphs, 1-4
Passive voice, 1-2, 1-7–1-10
Plagiarism, 3-8
Prewriting, 2-12
Principles of good writing, 1-3
Problem solving, 1-16
Proofreading, 2-28, 3-9
Publishing, 2-31

R
Research, 2-13, 5-13
Resources, 2-44
Revising, 2-25

S
Short sentences, 1-4
Speaker anxiety, 4-21
Staff officer characteristics, 5-2
Staff coordination, 5-18
Staff’s role, 5-12
Substance, 2-4
Style, 2-6

T
Thesis statement, 2-20

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V
Visual aids, 4-25

W
Writing process, 2-10
Writing standards, 2-3

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APPENDIX F

REFERENCES

Army Regulation 25-50, Preparing and Managing Correspondence. Washington,
DC, 17 May 2013.

Army Doctrine Publication No. 6-22, Army Leadership and the Profession.
Washington, DC, 31 July 2019.

Field Manual 6-0, w/ C1, Commander and Staff Organization and Operations.
Washington, DC, 11 May 2015.

TRADOC PAM 525-8-2, The U.S. Army Learning Concept for Training and
Education 2020-2040. Ft. Eustis, VA, 13 April 2017.

Sabin, William A. The Gregg Reference Manual: A Manual of Style, Grammar,
Usage, and Formatting (Tribute ed., 11th ed.). New York, NY: McGraw-Hill College,
2010.

Turabian, Kate L. A Manual for Writers of Research Papers, Theses, and
Dissertations (Ninth Edition). Rev. by Wayne C. Booth, Gregory G. Colomb, Joseph M.
Williams, Joseph Bizup, William T. Fitzgerald, and the University of Chicago Press
Editorial Staff. Chicago, IL: The University of Chicago Press, 2018.

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Creating a Sentence Outline

It has been more than a few years since you have written a formal paper in an academic
setting. In your former jobs, you focused on accomplishing the mission in front of you.
Yet, in the next ten years of your career, you will be placed in positions where your
ability to write and to articulate your ideas clearly are the most important skills you
possess. The sentence outline is a tool to improve not only your writing, but to assess
your thoughts and logic. If clear writing is a reflection of clear thinking, then the outline
should allow you to test the clarity of your thinking.

The rationale for a sentence outline is clear. The Army standard defines good writing as
“understandable in a single, rapid reading and generally free of errors in grammar,
mechanics, and usage.” By forcing yourself to evaluate your argument and to summarize
its main points in a one-page sentence outline, you will focus on those key elements that
compose your essay’s component parts. The sentence outline also forces you to judge
whether you are attempting to cover too much in your argument, and whether you
should reduce your scope, reorder the paragraphs, or add additional points in order to
argue your case. If properly done, each sentence in the outline becomes a topic sentence
for a paragraph. By expanding the work you have already done, you create your essay.

A few cautions: Writing a sentence outline does require you to know your subject and
have a fully developed thesis. A good outline does not guarantee a good paper. However,
you can deal with problems with analysis, logic, and organization early, while problems
with grammar or prose may become clear only when you write your paper.

The elements of a sentence outline follow on the next pages.

Pick the example outline which corresponds to the question you intend to answer:
either Question 1 or Question 2. (PICK ONLY ONE)

Key Guidance for the Sentence Outline:

• First – review ST 22-2 – this refrence will help you understand the academic

writing style needed for CGSC

• Second: Use the naming convention for your documents:

smith_john_H100_outline

• DO NOT complete the essay before the outline – this only leads to heartbreak in

most cases.

• Understand the structure of an essay – introduction, main body, and

conclusion.

• Each sentence will become the “topic sentence” of the paragraph and usually

appears as the first sentence of a paragraph when you expand the outline into your

paper.

• Use complete sentences (subject, verb, complement) that communicate full

thoughts.

• Organize the sentences to construct a coherent argument leading to your paper’s

conclusion.

• One sentence per idea – don’t simply put an entire essay in outline form.

• Single-space the sentences in the outline; double-space between paragraphs.

• For academic writing, use third person and active voice.

Sentence outline for Question 1:

Question: How have the theories of Carl Von Clausewitz and/or Henri Jomini influenced
the birth of combined arms warfare? Use evidence from H100 (the Western Way of War)
to support your argument. In your conclusion, suggest the significance to today’s military
professional.

I. Introduction

A. Attention sentence: How will you convince the reader of the importance of
your topic?
B. Thesis: state either one and/or both theoriest, what they did and then describe
which theories you will argue.
C. Major points supporting the thesis: Write a sentence that introduces the major
points of evidence that support your thesis. Spell out which theories you plan to
argue.

II. Major Point 1 Topic Sentence- a broad statement of your argument for this paragraph.
A. Supporting evidence written in a complete sentence. State the specific theory
you intend to argue
B. Supporting evidence written in a complete sentence. Describe where in
Combined arms warfare this theory is applied successfully (ex. a battle, policy or
doctrine) BE SPECIFIC

III. Major Point 2 Topic Sentence- a broad statement of your argument for this paragraph.
A. Supporting evidence written in a complete sentence. State the specific theory
you intend to argue.
B. Supporting evidence written in a complete sentence. Describe where in
combined arms warfare this theory is applied successfully. (ex. a battle, policy or
doctrine) BE SPECIFIC

IV. Major Point 3 Topic Sentence-a broad statement of your argument for this paragraph
A. Supporting evidence written in a complete sentence. State the specific theory
you intend to argue
B. Supporting evidence written in a complete sentence. Describe where in
combined arms warfare this theory is applied successfully. (ex. a battle, policy or
doctrine) BE SPECIFIC

V. Conclusion: Restate the thesis and revisit your main points. This is where you mention
why your argument is significant for today’s military professional (do not introduce new
elements of your argument).

Sentence Outline for Question 2:

Which Military Revolution (MR*) has had the greatest impact on the birth of combined
arms warfare? Use evidence from H100 (the Western Way of War) to support your
argument. In your conclusion, suggest the significance to today’s military professional.

* Pick one of the five Military Revolutions as defined by Knox and Murray in The Dynamics of Military
Revolution 1300-2050

I. Introduction

A. Attention sentence: How will you convince the reader of the importance of
your topic?
B. Thesis: State the ONE Military Revolution (MR) you think had the greatest
impact on the birth of combined arms warfare in a thesis statement.
C. Major points supporting the thesis: Write a sentence that introduces the major
points of evidence that support your thesis. Spell out which RMA you plan to
argue contributed to the MR you picked.

II. Major Point 1 Topic Sentence- a broad statement of your argument for this paragraph.

A. Supporting evidence written in a complete sentence. State the conditions which
existed prior to the innovation or change implemented due to the MR

B. Supporting evidence written in a complete sentence. Describe what the
innovation or change was.
C. Show a specific successful use of the innovation or change – a Battle or
Operation is best. BE SPECIFIC

III. Major Point 1 Topic Sentence- a broad statement of your argument for this paragraph.
A. Supporting evidence written in a complete sentence. State the conditions which
existed prior to the innovation or change implemented due to the MR

B. Supporting evidence written in a complete sentence. Describe what the
innovation or change was.
C. Show a specific successful use of the innovation or change – a Battle or
Operation is best. BE SPECIFIC

IV. Major Point 1 Topic Sentence- a broad statement of your argument for this
paragraph.

A. Supporting evidence written in a complete sentence. State the conditions which
existed prior to the innovation or change implemented due to the MR
B. Supporting evidence written in a complete sentence. Describe what the
innovation or change was.
C. Show a specific successful use of the innovation or change – a Battle or
Operation is best. BE SPECIFIC

V. Conclusion: Restate the thesis and revisit your main points. This is where you mention
why your argument is significant for today’s military professional (do not introduce new
elements of your argument).

EXAMPLE OF SENTENCE OUTLINE
THIS IS ONLY AN EXAMPLE TO SHOW A SUCCINCT OULINE

QUESTION: What caused the downfall of the Napoleonic Empire?

I. Introduction

A. Attention step: Despite being one of the greatest generals of the modern era,
Napoleon could not make a lasting peace using military action.

B. Thesis: Napoleon lost his empire because he failed to understand the limits of
military power, the enormous social and financial costs of the wars, and the
eventual coordination of his enemies against him.

II. French military power failed to create the conditions for a permanent political
settlement.

A. Britain was an untouchable enemy because the French army could not directly
strike at Great Britain due to the weakness of the French navy.

B. In the Iberian Peninsula, Spanish peasants refused to recognize French authority,
and supported by Britain, fought a bloody and debilitating guerrilla war for six
years.

C. Napoleon’s attempts to keep conquered peoples under control created resistance
to his rule in Tyrol, Calabria, and the Vendeé.

III. Napoleon failed to understand the social and financial costs to France of his military
exploits.

A. The financial strain of the Continental System created a black market economy
that undermined Napoleon’s rule and denied him valuable revenue.

B. After twenty-five years of near constant warfare, the French people no longer
supported Napoleon’s aggressive foreign policy during the 1813–14 campaigns.

IV. Ultimately, Napoleon’s opponents coordinated their political and military
activities, denying him the ability to “divide and conquer.”

A. Austria, Russia, and Prussia reformed their armies along the French model,
removing much of the asymmetry that had previously existed.

B. In 1813–14, the Allies formed a more solid coalition with a headquarters directing
military operations that synchronized the military and political response to
Napoleon.

V. Conclusion: While Napoleon was able to achieve great success early in his reign, in
the end he faced a grim defeat. By focusing only on military action instead of including
the other elements of national power, paying for the burden of extensive and brutal war,
and underestimating the abilities of his enemies to adapt and adopt, Napoleon lost his
empire. Lessons learned from the Napoleonic era encourage future military officers to
consider limitations as well as capabilities, and to include all elements of national power
in the development of strategy: diplomacy, information or intelligence, military action,
and economics (DIME).

Creating a Sentence Outline

1

JOMINI AND CLAUSEWITZ:

THEIR INTERACTION

by

Christopher Bassford

An edited version of a paper presented to the 23rd Meeting of the Consortium on Revolutionary Europe at Georgia State
University, 26 February 1993.

Copyright, Christopher Bassford.

At least three important military theorists emerged from the experience of the wars of the French
Revolution and Napoleon: The Austrian Archduke Charles; the Swiss writer Antoine-Henri Jomini; and

the Prussian Carl von Clausewitz. The archduke has had very little influence in the United States or Great

Britain, since his work was never translated into English.*1 The military-theoretical traditions founded by

Jomini and Clausewitz, however, have very definitely had an impact on our military thinking.

Most frequently, Jomini is treated as being somehow the opposite of Clausewitz: military educators often

hurl the epithets “Jominian” and “Clausewitzian” at one another as if those single words somehow

summed up their opponents’ fallacious world-views and defects of personal character. On the other hand,

a number of thoughtful observers have considered the differences betweem Jomini and Clausewitz to be

rather inconsequential. Alfred Thayer Mahan is a case in point. Mahan’s father, military educator Dennis

Hart Mahan, is generally considered to have been a devout Jominian, and so is his son (though in fact

both were creative thinkers in their own right, and calling them “Jominians” is an unfair characterization).

The younger Mahan eventually became familiar with Clausewitz,*2 calling him “one of the first of

authorities.” However, he found Clausewitz to be in essential agreement with Jomini in all significant

respects,*3 so he continued to put forth his arguments in largely Jominian terminology.*4 The great

British Clausewitzian Spenser Wilkinson thought that Mahan and Clausewitz were in general accord.*5

In Germany, Albrecht von Boguslawski also argued that Jomini and Clausewitz were saying the same

thing. More recently, US Naval War College Professor Michael Handel has sought to reconcile the two

2

theorists.*6

Thus Jomini and Clausewitz often appear either as opposites or as twins. As usual when we are given a

choice between two such clear alternatives, neither really proves to be very useful and the truth lies

somewhere else. In reality, Jomini and Clausewitz saw much the same things in war, but saw them

through very different eyes. The similarities in their military ideas, which are indeed very great, stem

from three sources:

1. A common historical interest in the campaigns of Frederick the Great

2. Long personal experiences in the Napoleonic Wars, albeit usually on different sides

3. They read each other’s books.

Despite having these things in common, their approaches to military theory were fundamentally different,

and the source of these differences can be found in their very different personalities.

This is not the place to delve terribly deeply into the arcane theoretical details of these two men’s work.

Instead, I want to focus on the sources of our modern-day confusion: Why is it that Jomini and

Clausewitz look so radically different to some observers, yet so very similar to others? I will attribute this

confusion to our frequent lack of sensitivity to the differences in the two men’s experiences and

personalities, and to the way in which they interacted over time.

CLAUSEWITZ

Carl von Clausewitz (1780-1831) was a professional soldier from the age of 12 to his death from Cholera-

-a disease he incurred on active duty–at the age of 51. He first saw combat in 1794 when he was 13. He

experienced first-hand Prussia’s disastrous military humiliation by Napoleon in 1806, was captured, and

returned to Prussia a passionate military reformer. As a junior staff officer, he worked closely with the

great Prussian military reformers Gerhard von Scharnhorst (who was his mentor) and August von

Gneisenau (who became his friend and protector). In 1810, he was appointed military tutor to the crown

prince, for whom he wrote (in 1812) a military treatise we call The Principles of War.*7 The same year,

on a matter of high principle, he gave up his commission and joined the Russian army to fight Napoleon.

He fought throughout the Russian campaign and on through the Wars of Liberation of 1813 and 1814. He

was Prussian III Corps chief of staff during the campaign of 1815. It was Clausewitz’s corps which–

outnumbered two-to-one–held Grouchy’s forces at Wavre, contributing decisively to Napoleon’s defeat at

Waterloo.

Clausewitz had a reputation in the Prussian army as both an idealist and a superb staff officer, but he was

considered temperamentally unsuitable for command. No hint of personal scandal attaches to Clausewitz,

and his intellectual integrity was the driving force behind the ruthless examination of military-theoretical

ideas that we find in his greatest book, On War. However, while he rose very high in the King’s service,

he was widely considered too open to liberal ideas to be altogether politically reliable. His ideas on war

are heavily influenced by the mass popular warfare of the French Revolutionary period, and those ideas

were uncomfortable to conservative aristocrats.

Clausewitz’s relationship to Napoleon is often misunderstood. Although he is often called the “high-priest

3

of Napoleon” (Liddell Hart’s and J.F.C. Fuller’s term for him), it is important to note that, in fact,

Clausewitz represents not the ideas of Napoleon but rather those of his most capable opponent, the

Prussian military reformer Gerhard von Scharnhorst.

JOMINI

The man who did claim to interpret Napoleon to the military world was Antoine-Henri Jomini, later

Baron de Jomini, a French-speaking Swiss (1779-1869).*8 Originally headed for a career in banking,

young Jomini got carried away by the excitement of the French Revolution and joined the French army in

1798. He returned to business in Switzerland after the Peace of Amiens (1802), where he began writing

on military subjects. His Traité de grande tactique was first published in 1803. He continually revised,

enlarged, and reissued it into the 1850s.

Rejoining the army in 1804, Jomini was accepted as a volunteer staff member by Marshal Ney (who had

loaned him the money to publish his Traité de grande tactique).*9 He served in the Austerlitz and

Prussian campaigns, then in Spain. He finally received an actual staff commission in the French army at

the behest of Napoleon a while after Austerlitz. He served for a while as chief of staff to his long-time

mentor, Marshal Ney. Jomini’s arrogance, irascibility, and naked ambition often led to friction with his

fellows and eventually to a falling-out with Ney. Eventually, however, Jomini was promoted to brigadier

general and given a succession of fairly responsible staff positions, mostly away from actual troops.

Following his recovery from the rigors of the Russian campaign, he was reassigned to Ney in 1813.

However, he was shortly thereafter arrested for sloppy staff work. His ambitions thwarted by real or

imagined plots against himself, Jomini joined the Russian army in late 1813. He spent much of the

remainder of his long career in the Russian service.

During his actual military career, “Jomini … [had been] a very minor figure, seldom mentioned in orders

or dispatches, practically ignored in the memoirs of the officers who had served with him.”*10

Nonetheless, he became by far the best known military commentator of his day, and maintained that

position through zealous self-promotion. His most famous work, Summary of the Art of War, was written,

like Clausewitz’s Principles of War, for a royal prince to whom he was military tutor. Although long since

retired, he advised Czar Nicholas during the Crimean War and Napoleon III during his Italian campaigns.

Even during Jomini’s lifetime, however, there were many prominent military men who viewed Jomini

with great skepticism. The Duke of Wellington considered him a pompous charlatan.*11

In his maturity, Jomini grew wary of the revolutionary passions that had originally inspired him to take up

the sword himself. Perhaps his dependence on the czar, one of the most conservative rulers in Europe, had

some influence on his attitude. It is one of the ironies of history that Clausewitz, an officer of the

conservative king of Prussia, should be the one to base his theories on the most radical legacy of the

revolutionary period, while Napoleon’s own staff officer and interpreter, Jomini, should aim his theories

at the professional officer corps of essentially eighteenth centurystyle armies.

Jomini’s military writings are easy to unfairly caricature: they were characterized by a highly didactic and

prescriptive approach, conveyed in an extensive geometric vocabulary of strategic lines, bases, and key

points.*12 His fundamental prescription was simple: place superior power at the decisive point. In the

theoretical work for which he gained early fame, chapter XXXV of the Traité de grande tactique, he

4

constantly stressed the advantages of interior lines.

Jomini was no fool, however. His intelligence, facile pen, and actual experience of war made his writings

a great deal more credible and useful than so brief a description can imply. Once he left Napoleon’s

service, he maintained himself and his reputation primarily through prose. His writing style–unlike

Clausewitz’s–reflected his constant search for an audience. He dealt at length with a number of practical

subjects (logistics, seapower) that Clausewitz had largely ignored. Elements of his discussion (his

remarks on Great Britain and seapower, for instance, and his sycophantic treatment of Austria’s Archduke

Charles) are clearly aimed at protecting his political position or expanding his readership. And, one might

add, at minimizing Clausewitz’s, for he clearly perceived the Prussian writer as his chief competitor. For

Jomini, Clausewitz’s death thirty-eight years prior to his own came as a piece of rare good fortune.

FUNDAMENTAL DIFFERENCES BETWEEN THE TWO THEORISTS

Aside from their differing relationships to Napoleon, the fundamental differences between Clausewitz

and Jomini are rooted in their differing concepts of the historical process and of the nature and role of

military theory.

Clausewitz saw history in relative terms, rejecting absolute categories, standards, and values. The past

had to be accepted on its own terms. The historian must attempt to enter into the mindsets and attitudes of

any given period, the “spirit of the age.” History was a dynamic process of change, driven by forces

beyond the control and often beyond the comprehension of any individual or group. This historicism is

particularly obvious in two key themes of On War that are missing in the 1812 Principles of War. These

are the famous notion that “War is a continuation of politics with an admixture of other means” (i.e.,

organized violence) and the recognition that war can vary in its forms depending on the changing nature

of policy and of the society within which it is waged.

In contrast, Jomini’s view of history and of war was static and simplistic. He saw war as a “great drama,”

a stage for heroes and military geniuses whose talents were beyond the comprehension of mere mortals.

He saw the revolutionary warfare in which he himself had participated as merely the technical near-

perfection of a fundamentally unchanging phenomenon, to be modified only by superficial matters like

the list of dramatis personae, technology, and transient political motivations. He drew his theoretical and

practical prescriptions from his experiences in the Napoleonic wars. The purpose of his theory was to

teach practical lessons to “officers of a superior grade.”

Accordingly, Jomini’s aim was utilitarian and his tone didactic. His writing thus appealed more readily to

military educators. His later work, Summary of the Art of War (Precis de l’Art de la Guerre, 1838),

became, in various translations, popularizations, and commentaries, the premier military-educational text

of the mid-nineteenth century.*13

Much of the contrast between Jomini and Clausewitz*14 can be traced to such philosophical factors–and

to the frequent abridgement of On War, which makes it appear much more abstract than Jomini’s work

when in fact they often discussed the same practical subject matter. Despite his insistence that theory

must be descriptive rather than prescriptive in nature, Clausewitz frequently provides instructive

discussions of common military problems like contested river crossings, the defense of mountainous

5

areas, etc.

THEIR INTERACTION

As the discussion so far has indicated, there were many parallels and many points of divergence in the

personalities, military experiences, and underlying philosophies of these two men. There were also,

however, some rather interesting points of intersection. Jomini and Clausewitz may have caught a

glimpse of one another from opposite sides during the tragic crossing of the Beresina river during the

French retreat from Moscow, but there is no evidence that they ever met. Nonetheless, they interacted

intellectually, influencing one another’s thinking over a long period of time.

When the young Clausewitz wrote his Principles of War (1812) for his student the Prussian crown prince,

he seems to have been rather taken with Jomini and his argument about interior lines.

“In strategy,… the side that is surrounded by the enemy is better off than the side which surrounds its opponent,

especially with equal or even weaker forces…. Colonel Jomini was right in this….*15
He also used a great deal of Jomini’s geometric vocabulary of bases, lines, and points, and was, like

Jomini, positive about the usefulness of mountains as defensive lines. Later, in On War, he would be

quite skeptical on all these matters. The young Clausewitz also accepted Jomini’s fundamental strategic

theme: “The theory of warfare tries to discover how we may gain a preponderance of physical forces and

material advantages at the decisive point.” Even this early in his evolution, he then went on to stress

something we think of as more typically Clausewitzian: “As this is not always possible, theory also

teaches us to calculate moral factors: the likely mistakes of the enemy, the impression created by a daring

action,… yes, even our own desperation.”*16

Given twenty years to think about such matters, however, Clausewitz became extremely skeptical of

Jomini. In On War, Clausewitz’s sweeping critique of the state of military theory appears to have been

aimed in large part at the Swiss:

It is only analytically that these attempts at theory can be called advances in the realm of truth; synthetically, in the

rules and regulations they offer, they are absolutely useless.

They aim at fixed values; but in war everything is uncertain, and calculations have to be made with variable quantities.

They direct the inquiry exclusively toward physical quantities, whereas all military action is intertwined with

psychological forces and effects.

They consider only unilateral action, whereas war consists of a continuous interaction of opposites…. Anything that

could not be reached by the meager wisdom of such one-sided points of view was held to be beyond scientific control: it

lay in the realm of genius, which rises above all rules.

Pity the soldier who is supposed to crawl among these scraps of rules, not good enough for genius, which genius can

ignore, or laugh at. No; what genius does is the best rule, and theory can do no better than show how and why this

should be the case.*17

These passages immediately follow Clausewitz’s sneers at the “lopsided character” of the theory of

interior lines, comments unquestionably directed at Jomini. As a result of these comments, some writers

6

have claimed that Clausewitz was an advocate of concentric attacks, in contrast to Jomini’s advocacy of

“interior lines.” In fact, Clausewitz spent more time discussing concentric operations in part simply

because he felt that Jomini had already done so good a job explaining the opposite approach. The choice

of either would depend, as always in Clausewitz’s reasoning, on the specific situation.*18

These critical comments by Clausewitz are a source of much confusion. Anyone who reads Jomini’s most

famous work–and if you think few people actually read On War, there are even fewer who read the

Summary–will notice quite readily that Clausewitz’s remarks seem unduly harsh and misleading. Jomini’s

prefatory comments seem quite reasonable and entirely compatible with a Clausewitzian understanding of

war, despite Jomini’s personal barbs at Clausewitz. The frequently forgotten reason for this confusion is

that Clausewitz’s comments are aimed at Jomini’s Traité de grande tactique and other early works. The

Summary was written after Jomini had read On War–and after Clausewitz was safely dead. Clausewitz’s

comments therefore do not reflect Jomini’s modifications to his earlier arguments, for the Summary

contains many adjustments clearly attributable to On War’s arguments. These include Jomini’s comments

on the importance of morale; the impossibility of fixed rules (save perhaps in tactics); the need to assign

limits to the role of theory; skepticism of mathematical calculations (and a denial that Jomini’s own work-

-despite all the geometrical terminology and diagrams–was based on math); the disclaimer of any belief

that war is “a positive science”; and the clear differentiation between mere military knowledge and actual

battlefield skill.*19

Jomini acknowledged the truth of Clausewitz’s strong connection between politics and war. The Summary

is full of references to “politique”–the same term as Clausewitz’s Politik. However, this similarity is

hidden by the standard English translation, which substitutes the term “diplomacy”–i.e., only the politics

that occurs between states, not that within them as well. One example of a direct borrowing from On War:

“[T]he first care of a commander should be to agree with the head of the state upon the character of the

war.” Compare this with Clausewitz: “The first, the supreme, the most far-reaching act of judgment that

the statesman and commander have to make is to establish … the kind of war on which they are

embarking; neither mistaking it for, nor trying to turn it into, something that is alien to its nature.”*20

These direct but unacknowledged borrowings from On War convince many readers that the two theorists

were thinking on parallel tracks. Simultaneously, the two writers’ overt mutual insults tend to make other

readers–those who are not familiar with both works–assume a basic contradiction in their views.

However, Jomini’s recognition of the validity of many of Clausewitz’s points did not lead him to

genuinely adopt Clausewitz’s philosophy, for at least three reasons. First, he correctly distinguished his

own work from Clausewitz’s by pointing to its explicitly instructional (i.e., doctrinal) purposes. Despite

his agreement that war was essentially a political act, he pointed to the practical implications of this

different focus: “History at once political and military offers more attractions, but is also much more

difficult to treat and does not accord easily with the didactic species….”

Second, and in common with a number of Clausewitz’s later detractors, he found the Prussian’s approach

intellectually arrogant, overly metaphysical, and simply too damned difficult to digest. Jomini stressed

simplicity and clarity over a “pretentious” search for deeper truths. Further, he objected to what he saw as

Clausewitz’s extreme skepticism (“incrédulité”) of all military theory–save that in On War. For

Clausewitz to reject Jomini’s approach to theory while defending his own seemed somehow hypocritical.

Third, there was a strong personal element in Jomini’s critique of Clausewitz. Clearly, he did on some

7

level greatly admire Clausewitz’s work. He regretted that the Prussian had not been able to read his own

Summary, “persuaded that he would have rendered to it some justice.” He was thus deeply wounded by

the criticisms in On War. He expressed his bitterness in a number of sneers (e.g., “The works of

Clausewitz have been incontestably useful, although it is often less by the ideas of the author than by the

contrary ideas to which he gives birth”) and in accusations of plagiarism (“There is not one of my

reflections [on the campaign of 1799] which he has not repeated”). These insults, because they refer to the

Prussian by name, have more meaning to readers unfamiliar with On War than do the Summary’s

concessions on theoretical issues.

CONCLUSIONS: THE RETURN OF JOMINI

The significance of all this, aside from whatever antiquarian interest it may arouse, lies in certain recent

attempts to revive Jomini. These attempts are part of a reaction against the predominance of

Clausewitzian theory in this country since the Vietnam war. Over the years Clausewitz has periodically

been declared obsolete, only to reemerge more influential than ever. Such arguments often focus on the

problem of nuclear war, but it seems increasingly likely that it is the nuclear theorists, not Clausewitz,

who have been rendered obsolescent.*21 There have also been complaints by military traditionalists

about the excessive influence of “Clausewitz nuts” and by theoretical purists of the “the prostitution of

Clausewitz since 1981, particularly in [the U.S. Army’s] FM 1005 and its various degenerate

offspring.”*22 Both complaints have some justification. The eclecticism of Anglo-Saxon military thought

is rooted in the same spirit as the Latin warning, “Cave ab homine unius libri” (“Beware the man of one

book”): a narrow reliance on Clausewitz is inconsistent with the philosopher’s own teaching. On the other

hand, using On War as a mere stockpile of juicy quotes in support of this doctrinal position or that is also

an abuse.

In large part, however, criticism of the new Clausewitzianism is simply reaction. Would-be competitors

have little choice but to seek to dislodge the Prussian philosopher from his post-Vietnam primacy. And,

of course, some people are simply tired of hearing about this long-dead genius. As David Chandler has

put it, “Clausewitz’s airy Kantian generalizations have held sway long enough.”*23 It is also possible that

in a world seemingly freed of fundamental ideological (though obviously not nationalist) conflict, in a

period in which some would seriously suppose an “end to History,” Clausewitz’s strife-driven world view

might come to seem less relevant.*24 Chandler’s suggestion that “Baron Antoine-Jomini’s rival (and more

prosaic) approach … is under serious reconsideration” may be a symptom of such a trend–though one

may well ask, “by whom?” Such a trend may be further encouraged by what seems to some–in forgetful

retrospect–to have been the un-Clausewitzian “simplicity” of the Persian Gulf War. Perhaps the very

Clausewitzian complexity of that war’s aftermath will squelch the effort to renew Jomini’s claim to Guru

status.

My own argument is that most of what Jomini had to contribute that was of real value–which was a great

deal–has long since been absorbed into the way we write practical doctrine. Clausewitz’s contributions,

on the other hand, have not.*25 Indeed, given the brilliance and subtlety of many of Clausewitz’s

concepts, it is hard to see how they could ever become the “conventional wisdom.” Jomini is important in

a purely historical sense. In cultivating our own understanding of war, past, present, and future, we must

turn to Clausewitz.

8

See also Christoph M.V. Abegglen, “The Influence of Clausewitz on Jomini’s Précis de l’Art de la

Guerre,” Dissertation for an MA in War Studies King’s College London, 2003. [Superviser: Dr. Jan

Willem Honig]

NOTES

1. Lincoln’s chief of staff General Henry W. Halleck is generally considered a Jominian. He was also definitely aware of

Clausewitz and presumably had some notion as to his ideas. His greatest source of inspiration may, however, have been neither

Jomini nor Clausewitz, but the Archduke Charles. See Thomas L. Connelly and Archer Jones, The Politics of Command:

Factions and Ideas in Confederate Strategy (Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1973, 2728, 30, 104, 176. Russell

F. Weigley adopts this view of the Archduke Charles’s influence on Halleck in his article “American Strategy from Its

Beginnings through the First World War,” in Peter Paret, ed., Makers of Modern Strategy: From Machiavelli to the Nuclear

Age (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1986), 41617; it did not appear in his earlier chapter on Halleck in Towards an

American Army: Military Thought from Washington to Marshall (New York: 1962), in which he saw Halleck as a more

original thinker, albeit heavily influenced by Jomini.

2. Mahan had become familiar with at least the broad outlines of Clausewitz’s thought by the 1890s. This is the view of two

naval historians, Captain (USN) William Dillworth Puleston, Mahan: The Life and Work of Captain Alfred Thayer Mahan,

U.S.N. (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1939), 295, and Spector, Professors of War, 121. The editor of Mahan’s papers,

however, is not sure that Mahan ever read Clausewitz, and if he did, places it around 1910. See Robert Seager, Alfred Thayer

Mahan: The Man and his Letters (Annapolis: US Naval Institute Press, 1978), 552, 683,n.11. I am inclined to agree with this

assessment, although this does not eliminate the possibility that Mahan knew the broad outlines of On War at an earlier date.

Mahan’s interest is further evidenced by his marginal notes in a copy of Major Stewart Murray’s 1909 condensation of On War,

The Reality of War (London: Hugh Rees, 1909). Mahan’s own copy has been lost, but his marginal notes were transcribed into

a copy donated to the Naval War College by Puleston, Mahan’s biographer.

3. Alfred Thayer Mahan, Naval Strategy Compared and Contrasted with the Principles and Practice of Military Operations on

Land: Lectures Delivered at the Naval War College, Newport, R.I., between the Years 1887 and 1911 (Boston: Little, Brown,

and Company, 1911; reprinted Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Press, 1975), contains two explicit references to Clausewitz. One

is a footnote reference (120) to Clausewitz’s sarcastic discussion of “keys,” (Book VI, Chapter 23 of On War). The other (in

which Mahan refers to Clausewitz as “one of the first of authorities”) is a reference to Corbett citing On War on the relative

strengths of defense and offense (279). This is part of an extended discussion of some importance, in that Mahan is comparing

the naval and land aspects of strategy, and he is clearly discussing the Clausewitzian interpretation without identifying it as

such. [He used virtually the same phrasing in his discussion of some naval wargames in a letter to Raymond P. Rogers, 4

March 1911, in Alfred Thayer Mahan, eds. Robert Seeger II and Doris D. Maguire, Letters and Papers of Alfred Thayer

Mahan (Annapolis: Naval Institute Press, 1975.)] Mahan also discusses “ends and means” at some length (esp. p5), in a

manner strongly reminiscent of Clausewitz.

4. See Puleston, 295; Spector, 121.

5. While he thought that the equally great British Clausewitzian Julian Corbett was wildly wrong in his interpretations.

6. Michael I. Handel, Masters of War: Sun Tzu, Clausewitz and Jomini (London: Frank Cass, 1992).

7. Carl von Clausewitz, trans. Hans W. Gatzke, Principles of War (Harrisburg, PA: The Military Service Publishing Company,

1942); reprinted in Stackpole Books, Roots of Strategy: Book 2, 3 Military Classics. Harrisburg, PA: Stackpole Books, 1987.

[Originally “Die wichtigsten Grundsatze des Kriegfuhrens zur Erganzung meines Unterrichts bei Sr. Koniglichen Hoheit dem

Kronprinzen” (written in 1812; trans. from the 1936 German edition).] Another translation appears as an appendix to J.J.

Graham’s 1873 translation of On War.

http://www.military.ch/abegglen/papers/main.htm

http://www.military.ch/abegglen/papers/main.htm

9

8. On Jomini, see Crane Brinton, Gordon A. Craig, and Felix Gilbert, “Jomini,” in Edward Mead Earle, ed., Makers of Modern

Strategy: Military Thought from Machiavelli to Hitler (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1944); Michael Howard, “Jomini

and the Classical Tradition,” in Michael Howard, ed., The Theory and Practice of War (New York: Praeger, 1966); John Shy,

“Jomini,” in Peter Paret, ed., Makers of Modern Strategy: From Machiavelli to the Nuclear Age (Princeton: Princeton

University Press, 1986).

9. The best English-language discussion of Jomini’s military career can be found in John R. Elting, “Jomini: Disciple of

Napoleon?” Military Affairs, Spring 1964, 17-26. Unlike most biographical discussions of the Swiss, which are based on his

own highly colored reminiscences to people he wished to impress, Elting’s study is based on Xavier de Courville, Jomini, ou

de le Devin de Napoleon (Paris, 1935). “Written by Jomini’s descendants, from his personal papers, it is the most impartial of

his biographies.”

10. Elting, “Jomini: Disciple of Napoleon?”

11. [Francis Egerton, Lord Ellesmere], “Marmont, Siborne, and Alison,” Quarterly Review, v.LXXVI (June and September

1845), 204247, a joint venture of John Gurwood, Egerton, and Wellington himself. See Archives of the John Murray

Company, manuscript index to v.LXXVI, Quarterly Review; J.H. Stocqueler (pseud.), The Life of Field Marshal the Duke of

Wellington (London: Ingram, Cooke, and Company, 1853), v.II, 330.

12. See, for example, Articles XVIII-XXII of the Summary.

13.. For Jomini’s theoretical writings in English translation, see AntoineHenri Jomini, trans. Col. S.B. Holabird, U.S.A.,

Treatise on Grand Military Operations: or A Critical and Military History of the Wars of Frederick the Great as Contrasted

with the Modern System, 2 vols. (New York: D. van Nostrand, 1865); Baron de Jomini, trans. Major O.F. Winship and Lieut.

E.E. McLean, The Art of War (New York: G.P. Putnam, 1854). Important derivative works include Dennis Hart Mahan’s

instructional works for West Point; Henry Wager Halleck, Elements of Military Art and Science (New York: D. Appleton and

Company, 1846); Edward Bruce Hamley (182493), The Operations of War Explained and Illustrated (London: William

Blackwood and Sons, 1866).

14.. Most discussions of Jomini compare him to Clausewitz. For explicit efforts to do so, see Department of Military Art and

Engineering, USMA, Clausewitz, Jomini, Schlieffen (West Point, 1951 [rewritten, in part, by Colonel [USA] John R. Elting,

1964]); J.E. Edmonds, “Jomini and Clausewitz” [a treatment extremely hostile to the German], Canadian Army Journal, v.V,

no.2 (May 1951), 6469; Joseph L. Harsh, “Battlesword and Rapier: Clausewitz, Jomini, and the American Civil War,” Military

Affairs, December 1974, 133138; Major [USAF] Francis S. Jones, “Analysis and Comparison of the Ideas and Later Influences

of Henri Jomini and Carl von Clausewitz,” Paper, Maxwell Air Force Base, AL: Air Command and Staff College, April 1985;

Colonel [USA] Richard M. Swain, “`The Hedgehog and the Fox’: Jomini, Clausewitz, and History,” Naval War College

Review, Autumn 1990, 98-109.

15. Gatzke, Principles of War, 49 (p39 in Cochenhausen, Grundsatze).

16. Clausewitz, Gatzke ed., Principles of War, 12; Cochenhausen, Grundsatze, 9. See also pp 22/17).

17.. On War, Book Two, Chapter 2.

18. In later versions of the Treatise, Jomini dropped his insistence on interior lines, acknowledging á la Clausewitz that the

value of interior or concentric lines depended on the situation. (Holabird, 450-451).

19.. These points are most easily found in the bibliographical essay which opened the original French edition of the Summary,

“Notice: sur la théorie actuelle de la guerre et sur son utilité” (“On the Present Theory of War and of Its Utility”). This essay is

missing from (or severely edited in) most English language editions, although it is present in the 1854 American translation.

10

20. Jomini, trans. Mendell and Craighill, Summary, 66; Clausewitz, On War, 88-89.

21. John E. Shephard, Jr., makes a recent case for Clausewitz’s partial obsolescence in “On War: Is Clausewitz Still Relevant?”

See also Bruce R. Nardulli, “Clausewitz and the Reorientation of Nuclear Strategy,” Journal of Strategic Studies, December

1982, 494-510.

22. Achenbach, “War and the Cult of Clausewitz,” quoting Colonel (USA, retired) Arthur Lykke, a senior professor of strategy

at the Army War College; Colonel [USA, ret.] Lloyd Matthews, editor of Parameters, letter 17 July 1989.

23. David G. Chandler, in an enthusiastic review of Weigley’s Age of Battles, Journal of Military History, April 1992, 294-

295.

24. Martin van Creveld attempted in The Transformation of War (New York: Free Press, 1991) “to construct a different, non-

Clausewitzian and non-strategic, framework for thinking about war.” He argues that war in the postCold War era is driven by

forces outside the nation-state system and beyond the rational boundaries allegedly emphasized in On War. The pattern of

conflict in the post1945 world no longer yields to the “Clausewitzian assumption that war is rational.” In this view, the

“Clausewitzian universe” is obsolete because it is centered on warmaking by the “state”; Clausewitz’s alleged trinity of

government, army, and people is therefore not applicable to Europe before the Treaty of Westphalia nor to the world emerging

from the Cold War era.

25. Bernard Brodie often made puzzled references, e.g., “The Continuing Relevance of On War,” 50, to the failure of modern

military thought to incorporate and supersede Clausewitz, in the manner in which, say, Adam Smith’s contribution to

economics has been.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Brinton, Crane, Gordon A. Craig, and Felix Gilbert. “Jomini.” Edward Mead Earle, ed. Makers of Modern Strategy: Military

Thought from Machiavelli to Hitler. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1944.

Clausewitz, Carl von, trans. Colonel J.J. [James John] Graham. On War. London: N. Trhbner, 1873.

Clausewitz, Carl von, trans. Hans W. Gatzke. Principles of War. Harrisburg, PA: The Military Service Publishing Company,

1942; reprinted in Stackpole Books, Roots of Strategy: Book 2, 3 Military Classics. Harrisburg, PA: Stackpole Books, 1987.

[Originally written 1812: Carl von Clausewitz, General Friedrich von Cochenhausen, ed. “Die wichtigsten Grundsatze des

Kriegfuhrens zur Erganzung meines Unterrichts bei Sr. K`niglichen Hoheit dem Kronprinzen. Berlin: Jhnker und Dhnnhaupt

Verlag, 1936.] Another translation appears as an appendix to J.J. Graham’s translation of On War.

Clausewitz, Carl von, eds./trans. Michael Howard and Peter Paret. On War. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1976.

Courville, Xavier de. Jomini, ou de le Devin de Napoleon. Paris, 1935.

Department of Military Art and Engineering, USMA. Clausewitz, Jomini, Schlieffen. West Point, 1951. [Rewritten, in part by

Colonel [USA] John R. Elting, 1964.]

Elting, John R. “Jomini: Disciple of Napoleon?” Military Affairs, Spring 1964, 17-26.

Edmonds, Brigadier General Sir J.E. “Jomini and Clausewitz.” Canadian Army Journal, v.V, no.2 (May 1951), 6469.

Harsh, Joseph L. “Battlesword and Rapier: Clausewitz, Jomini, and the American Civil War.” Military Affairs, December

1974, 133138.

Hattaway, Herman, and Archer Jones. How the North Won: A Military History of the Civil War. Urbana: University of Illinois

http://www.clausewitz.com/readings/OnWar1873/TOC.htm

http://www.clausewitz.com/readings/Principles/index.htm

11

Press, 1983.

Hattendorf, John B. “Sir Julian Corbett on the Significance of Naval History.” The American Neptune, v.XXXI, no.4, 1971.

Hittle, Brigadier General [USMC] J. D., ed. Jomini and his Summary of the Art of War: A Condensed Version. Harrisburg, PA:

1947; reprinted in Stackpole Books, Roots of Strategy: Book 2, 3 Military Classics. Harrisburg, PA: Stackpole Books, 1987.

Howard, Michael. “Jomini and the Classical Tradition.” Michael Howard, ed. The Theory and Practice of War. New York:

Praeger, 1966.

Jomini, Henri. Traité de grande tactique, ou, Relation de la guerre de sept ans, extraite de Tempelhof, commentée at comparée

aux principales opérations de la dernière guerre; avec un recueil des maximes les plus important de l’art militaire, justifiées

par ces différents évenéments. Paris: Giguet et Michaud, 1805.

Jomini, Le Baron de. Précis de l’Art de la Guerre: Des Principales Combinaisons de la Stratégie, de la Grande Tactique et de

la Politique Militaire. Brussels: Meline, Cans et Copagnie, 1838.

Jomini, Baron de, trans. Major O.F. Winship and Lieut. E.E. McLean [USA]. The Art of War. New York: G.P. Putnam, 1854.

Jomini, Baron de, trans. Capt. G.H. Mendell and Lieut. W.P. Craighill [USA]. The Art of War. Philadelphia: J.B. Lippincott,

1862; reprinted, Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 1971; reprinted, with a new introduction by Charles Messenger, London:

Greenhill Books, 1992.

Jomini, AntoineHenri, trans. Col. S.B. Holabird, U.S.A. Treatise on Grand Military Operations: or A Critical and Military

History of the Wars of Frederick the Great as Contrasted with the Modern System, 2 vols. New York: D. van Nostrand, 1865.

Jones, Archer. “Jomini and the Strategy of the American Civil War: A Reinterpretation.” Military Affairs, XXXIV, December

1970, 127131.

Jones, Major [USAF] Francis S. “Analysis and Comparison of the Ideas and Later Influences of Henri Jomini and Carl von

Clausewitz.” Paper, Maxwell Air Force Base, AL: Air Command and Staff College, April 1985.

McGinnis, Major [USA] Thomas M. “Jomini and the Ardennes: An Analysis of Lines of Operation and Decisive Points.” Fort

Leavenworth, KS: School of Advanced Military Studies, May 1988.

Shy, John. “Jomini.” Peter Paret, ed. Makers of Modern Strategy: From Machiavelli to the Nuclear Age. Princeton: Princeton

University Press, 1986.

Swain, Colonel [USA] Richard M. “`The Hedgehog and the Fox’: Jomini, Clausewitz, and History.” Naval War College

Review, Autumn 1990, 98-109.

Williams, T. Harry. “The Return of Jomini: Some Thoughts on Recent Civil War Writing.” Military Affairs, December 1975,

204206.

Napoleon’s Generalship Reconsidered, or Did Napoleon Really Blunder to Glory?

by Jack A. Meyer

In

1

987 a certain iconoclastic professor by the name of Owen Connelly published a book called
Blundering to Glory: Napoleon’s Military Campaigns. As might be expected, the title alone caused
outbreaks of apoplexy among the many people who worship at the shrine of Napoleon’s military genius.
In his book Connelly dared to suggest that Napoleon, while a military genius, was also a blunderer who
made mistakes in every campaign he fought and who was saved to a large degree by his ability to
improvise or, as Professor Connelly puts it, “to scramble.” By daring to question the infallibility of
Napoleon’s military genius Connelly set the stage for a further discussion of the question; Just what was it
that made Napoleon a successful military commander?

As I see it, there are two possible lines of examination. The first, and most obvious, is that Napoleon
was indeed a military genius who towered far above any other military figure in history. The second is
that Napoleon was the beneficiary of situations which brought him success in addition to, or in spite of,
his military talents or deficiencies. Let us examine the genius factor first.

Few, except for the occasional lonely masochist, would deny that Napoleon possessed military
genius. While one would not expect Napoleon’s perennial adversaries, the British, to acknowledge his
genius, even that most British of military historians, David Chandler, subtitles his monumental work The
Campaigns of Napoleon: The Mind and Method of History’s Greatest Soldier. Certainly Professor
Connelly, in the introduction to his book, states that “Napoleon was a military genius” whose ability to
triumph over adversity can be attributed to “superior intelligence” and “his awesome energy; his ability to
scramble, to make his men follow him, to hit again and again; and his inability to accept defeat.”1 But,
having said that, Professor Connelly then goes on to his main thesis, that much of Napoleon’s success can
be attributed to other factors.

If genius may be defined by success then certainly Napoleon was a genius, for he was supremely
successful in nearly twenty years of campaigning against most of Europe. Indeed, Napoleon was so
successful that military scholars such as Jomini and Clausewitz, to name only the best known, spent
years trying to discover his methods for the instruction of lesser commanders.

There is, however, a small problem with the “genius” scenario. Geniuses are not supposed to commit
“blunders,” such as getting stuck in the swamps at Arcola, totally misplacing Mack’s army in October of
180

5

, or placing the Archduke Charles at Landshut in the Wagram campaign when he was actually at
Eggmühl. Then, of course, there are the greatest blunders of all, Spain and Russia. It can certainly be
argued that Napoleon’s ability to get himself out of such situations as Arcola or Ulm is in itself a mark of
genius. The conduct of war, after all, is not a precise science. It is a military axiom that the plans for a
battle do not

1

survive the first contact and the genius of the commander lies in how he, or she, reacts to the highly fluid
and unpredictable nature of combat. What Professor Connelly calls “scrambling” then is indeed a mark of
Napoleon’s genius. Certainly there is evidence that Napoleon was well aware of this. One of his favorite
maxims was On s’engage, et alors on voit. But this cannot explain Spain and Russia. Perhaps it is time to
examine the second possibility.

The idea that Napoleon was the beneficiary of “the ineptitude of his enemies,” just plain luck and the
ability of his subordinates is, of course, the central theme of Professor Connelly’s book.

2

Napoleon’s
campaigns are replete with examples of these factors. From the very first, luck entered into Napoleon’s
military career, perhaps with a bit of shrewd Corsican intrigue thrown in for good measure.

Without a doubt it was the opportunity to display his talents at Toulon in 179

3

which started
Napoleon’s rise to glory. Prior to that time he had floundered around in Corsica, managed to get himself
elected lieutenant-colonel of the Ajaccio battalion of the Corsican National Guard and failed miserably in
an attempt to capture Sardinia in 1792. This was hardly the sort of record which would impress the
government of the Convention. On unattached duty with the Army of Italy in 1793, Napoleon just happened
to be available when the commander of artillery at the siege of Toulon was wounded and, just by chance,
the representative on mission at General Jean-Francois Carteaux’s headquarters was Antoine-Christophe
Saliceti, an old family friend. The story of Napoleon’s performance at Toulon is well known but without
that “lucky” wound suffered by General Auguste de Dommartin, the commander of artillery, Napoleon
would have had no chance to display his talent.

It was luck again which placed Napoleon in Paris in October 1795. Languishing there as a staff officer
in the Topographic Bureau, Napoleon was available when the Paris mobs threatened to overthrow the yet to
be installed government of the Directory. Paul Barras, one of the new Directors, was appointed to defend
the Tuileries. He picked Napoleon to be his second-in-command or, to put it more bluntly, to do the dirty
work of putting down the mob. Thus, Napoleon got the chance to win command of the Army of Italy
through the famous “whiff of grapeshot” [actually a torrent of canister but I despair of ever correcting that
erroneous term] and a bit of judicious courting of Josephine de Beauharnais, sometime mistress of Barras.
The first Italian Campaign was Napoleon’s opportunity to display the military talents which would
eventually win him eternal glory. But, that is also the campaign which most clearly demonstrates those
factors to which Professor Connelly is referring.

If a general was looking for opponents who would assist in their own destruction, he could find no
better than those Austrian generals who were sent to oppose Napoleon in 179

6

. General Baron Johann
Beaulieu allowed himself to be fooled into dividing his forces and was soundly defeated at Montenotte [12
April 1796] by Masséna’s division. His replacement, Field Marshal Count Dagobert von Würmser, divided
his army for his advance against the French besieging Mantua. Part of the army, under General
Quasdanovich, was sent along the western shore of Lake Garda while Würmser led the rest, less significant
detachments he had sent to Peschiera and toward Mantua by way of Verona, along the eastern shore. The
Austrians were defeated in detail at Lonato [3 August 1796] and Castiglione [5 August 1796]. Würmser, it
seems, did not learn from his defeats and, after dividing his forces yet again, was driven into Mantua, where
he remained until the city surrendered in February 1797.

Würmser was replaced by General Baron Jozsef Alvincy von Borberek, a veteran Hungarian officer
from Transylvania. He was perhaps the most effective of the Austrians but here again Napoleon’s luck held.
At Caldiero [12 November 1796] Alvincy defeated Napoleon’s army but failed to destroy the French
because he had divided his forces and could not bring sufficient men onto the battlefield to prevent
Napoleon’s retreat to Verona. Napoleon’s next move was daring but courted disaster. He planned to attack
Alvincy’s army at Villanuova by maneuvering through the swampy area at Ronco-Arcola to hit its rear. For
three days Napoleon’s army blundered around in the swamp, exposed to an attack by the Austrians, but

2

Alvincy did not attack either Napoleon or the weak French force at Verona. Napoleon’s luck held and on 17
November he finally got it right and forced the Austrians to retreat. Alvincy again divided his forces in
January 1797 and was defeated at Rivoli [13 January 1797]. Shortly thereafter the Austrians sued for peace.

I have dwelt extensively on the first Italian Campaign because it most clearly demonstrates the idea that
Napoleon was fortunate in his opposition. The Austrian commanders almost compulsively divided their
forces and allowed Napoleon and his division commanders to defeat them in detail. In several instances,
especially at Caldiero and Rivoli, the Austrians very likely would have crushed the French if all of their
forces had been present, but they weren’t and Napoleon not only avoided disaster but ended up winning the
campaign. Arcola also highlights Napoleon’s good fortune in his opposition. A determined opponent would
have ended Napoleon’s career in the swamps at Arcola but Alvincy failed to take advantage of his
opportunity.

The first Italian Campaign is also one of the better opportunities, but not the only one, for pointing out
another area in which Napoleon profited from the actions of others. Many of the battles which are credited
to the skill of Napoleon were actually the result of fine performances by his subordinates. At Montenotte it
was Masséna who won the battle. Napoleon was five miles away, at Carcare, at the time. In the
campaigning around Lake Garda, at Lonato and Castiglione, it was Masséna and Augereau who secured the
victories.

Perhaps the most blatant example of Napoleon receiving credit for the work of others is the Battle of
Marengo [1

4

June 1800] in the second Italian Campaign. Napoleon, badly outnumbered by the Austrians
under Field Marshal Michael Friedrich Melas, refused to believe that the Austrians were daring to attack
until he was fully engaged. During the course of the battle the French were forced back nearly five miles
and Melas was so sure of victory that he left the battlefield. The only thing which saved Napoleon from
defeat was the arrival of Louis Desaix’s division, which had marched to the sound of the guns. As Desaix
quite accurately stated, the battle was lost but there was still time to win another. Aided by Desaix’s fresh
troops and the laxness of the Austrian commanders Napoleon won “the second Battle of Marengo” but
Desaix was killed. The rewriting of the account of the battle, which was done twice during Napoleon’s
reign [1803 and 1805], clearly demonstrates Napoleon’s unease about this “victory.”

The other general who saved the day for Napoleon on more than one occasion was Louis-Nicolas
Davout. Davout was possibly the best general in Napoleon’s service. Certainly he ranks at the top, along
with Masséna, as one of the best independent commanders of the French army. Davout’s performance was
always exemplary but never more clearly demonstrated than at Austerlitz and Auerstädt. At Austerlitz [2
December 1805], it was Davout’s tenacious stand on the banks of the Goldbach which gave Napoleon time
to develop his main attack on the Pratzen Heights. At Auerstädt [14 October 1806] Davout, with a single
corps (twenty-six thousand men) defeated the Prussian main army of sixty-four thousand men while
Napoleon, with the bulk of the Grand Armée easily handled a smaller Prussian army at Jena. We can only
speculate what the results of the Waterloo campaign might have been had Davout been the field commander
instead of Michel Ney.

As Professor Connelly also quite correctly states, Napoleon was fortunate in that he did not have to
fight the combined forces of his enemies until the 1813 campaign. This is not to say that he was not at war
with more than one country, for he generally was. Great Britain, for example, was continually at war with
France from 1793 to 1814, except for a brief period from March 1802 until May 1803. However, the British
were not much of a threat to Napoleon on land, even when they sent an army to the assistance of Portugal
and Spain in 1808. The less said about the British campaigns in the Low Country the better.

Prussia, Russia and Austria are a different matter. In the 1805 campaign the war plans of Austria and
Russia called for combined action but the Russians were late starting, perhaps because of a

3

misunderstanding over the date (Russia still used the Julian calendar which was then twelve days behind the
rest of Europe). Napoleon was thus able to defeat the Austrian army of General Mack before turning to
attack the Russians. The impetuosity of the Russian Tsar, Alexander I, meant that Napoleon faced only a
mostly Russian army at Austerlitz, eighty-six thousand men instead of the potential 184,000 men that could
have been assembled had the tsar waited for the Austrian armies of Archduke Charles and Ferdinand as
Field Marshal Mikhail Kutuzov advised.

Again, in the 1806 campaign, the Prussians attacked without waiting for the Russians and were
defeated, leaving only the Russians to face the French armies. Given the inconclusive nature of the battle at
Eylau [8 February 1807] the added weight of the Prussian armies might have turned the tide against the
French. After Friedland [13 June 1807] the Russians were no longer a factor. This is perhaps the apogee of
Napoleon’s empire for he seized Portugal in 1807 and invaded Spain the following year. He quickly found
himself mired down in a bitter guerrilla war which would sap the energies of his empire. Following the
disastrous invasion of Russia in 1812, when it seemed that most of Europe sent troops to fight for France,
Napoleon was opposed by all the major powers of Europe and the end was close at hand.

So far the factors I have mentioned closely parallel what Professor Connelly has said in his book. There
are two other areas, only alluded to in the book, which I believe are important factors in the rise and fall of
Napoleon. In order to understand these factors we must look briefly at the way war was fought in the
eighteenth century. Following the excesses of the Thirty Years War, where rape and pillage were the norm,
there was a gradual turning away from such wars of ideology and an acceptance of the concept of limited
war. Contrary to what might be expected from that term, eighteenth century wars were not less frequent or
less costly. Rather they were limited in their objectives and in the way they were fought.

Limited war was war fought for territorial gain by professional armies. Kings engaged in war to steal
bits of territory from their neighbors not to convert them to some highly emotional ideology. Therefore the
armies of the time did not live off the land because to do so would despoil the very territory being fought
over. There was no profit in ruining the land you coveted so armies subsisted from magazines established
for their support, usually in fortresses which became the prime objectives of opposing armies. Combat was
not the goal of eighteenth century commanders, not the least because the linear tactics of the day could
result in horrendous casualties. Maneuver was the order of the day. It was the fond hope of every
commander to maneuver his opponent into a hopeless situation and force him to retreat or, perhaps, even
sue for peace. Eighteenth century rulers habitually sued for peace as soon as it appeared that continuing the
war would be too costly in terms of men or money.

The French Revolution changed that. Once again we had armies fighting for ideological reasons, this
time not religious but political ideas. Napoleon was a product of that system and, although his political
motives changed over time, his methodology was always total war. While his opponents were maneuvering
for advantage in the old way Napoleon was maneuvering to destroy them. Therefore it is not surprising that
the Austrians or the Prussians sued for peace after a short series of bloody battles. To their way of thinking
the cost had become too high and it was time to end the war. What the Austrians, Prussians, and Russians
failed to realize was that the French frequently were also close to collapse and a determined effort would
have defeated them.

Three campaigns very clearly illustrate Napoleon’s vulnerability; his need for a quick victory. During
the 1805 campaign time was not Napoleon’s ally. After quickly finishing off Mack at Ulm Napoleon was
unable to corner the wily Kutuzov. By late November his position was serious. His army was at the end of a
long logistics line vulnerable to attack. His exhausted men were hungry and morale was rapidly declining.
Russian and Austrian strength was building and Prussia was mobilizing. Napoleon needed a quick victory
and Alexander I gave it to him. Had the Allies waited and combined their forces Napoleon would have been
trapped and overwhelmed.

4

The 1812 campaign in Russia again illustrates the flaw in Napoleon’s system. All of his efforts were
directed at obtaining that “decisive Victory” which would bring the Tsar to the bargaining table. But
Borodino [7 September 1812] and the capture of Moscow a week later failed to produce the desired result.
Faced with the onset of winter and no prospect of being able to feed his army in Moscow Napoleon had to
retreat. The retreat cost him an army [400,000 to 570,000 casualties out of an army of 611,000]. Only a
pitiful 60,000 or so men from the main army straggled into Posen in mid-January 1813.3 By that time
Napoleon had left for Paris to deal with the Malet conspiracy, “Napoleon is dead in Russia,” and to look for
a new army.

By 1813 the Allies had learned and, encouraged by Napoleon’s huge losses and demonstrated
vulnerability during the Russian campaign and by the news of Wellington’s victory at Vitoria in Spain [21
June 1813], they determined to keep their armies in the field until Napoleon was defeated. With huge
armies they were able to wear him down and, in spite of losing battles such as Lützen [2 May 1813] and
Bautzen [20–21 May 1813] they persevered. Even so old habits died hard. In spite of their resolve to finish
Napoleon the Allies offered him quite reasonable terms in July and again in November 1813 but he refused
and in the end was defeated and forced to abdicate.

During the “Glorious Irrelevance” of the Waterloo campaign in 1815 Napoleon again desperately
needed a quick victory. The notables in Paris were lukewarm in their support and Napoleon knew that he
only had time for a short war before that support would vanish. The allies, however, called him an outlaw
and vowed to crush him no matter what it took. Had Napoleon won at Waterloo, certainly within the realm
of possibility, there would have been no peace, only another battle. In 1804 a victory at Waterloo would
have meant a peace settlement and the end of the war. In 1815 only Napoleon believed a victory would lead
to peace. The allies had learned from his example.

During the 1813–14 campaign the allies also learned to harness for their own advantage another factor
which had given Napoleon and the French the advantage from 1793 on; nationalism. Nationalism was born
of the French Revolution and the levée en masse. La patrie was in danger and it was the duty of all good
Frenchmen, and women, to rally to her defense. Forces were unleashed which gave France a stunning
advantage. While French armies were fighting for the Revolution and France, their opponents were fighting
for money and a ruler they did not know. Morale became a potent weapon for the French.

The other European rulers were slow to adopt the concept of nationalism to oppose Napoleon. There
were, after all, inherent dangers to their own positions built into the concept. A guerrilla war in Prussia on
the order of the one which broke out in Spain in 1808 was not what the Prussian king, Frederick William III,
wanted, even if it would have rid him of the French. There was always the danger that once the French were
gone his people would decide they did not need him either. By 1813, however, nationalism became the
rallying cry in Prussia and huge numbers of Prussians joined Landwehr battalions to swell the mass armies
opposing Napoleon. The genie was let out of the bottle and Napoleon was defeated. Nationalism was used
against him just as total war was used against him. It should be pointed out, however, that the fears of the
European rulers were well founded, as the revolutions of 1820, 1830 and 1848 surely demonstrate.

The French Revolution and Napoleonic era, for good or for ill, altered the course of European history.
Napoleon I, Emperor of the French, played a defining role in that alteration. Despite his many achievements
in the political and cultural spheres it remains his military career which fascinates us. So, was Napoleon a
military genius? The answer, like so much in life, is ambiguous. Yes, he was a military genius, but.

Perhaps the greatest problem in defining genius is the concomitant tendency on the part of most people
to equate genius with infallibility. Therefore, we have difficulty accepting that “our hero” could possibly
have made the mistake of misplacing an entire army, such as Mack’s army in 1805. But yet that is the nature
of genius; the ability to “scramble” out of a bad situation where others fail. In this regard Napoleon was

5

indeed a genius and, in reality that is what Professor Connelly has demonstrated in his book. Napoleon may
have “blundered” but he generally recovered.

Other aspects of Napoleon’s career, however, forces beyond his control, also shaped his destiny. Luck
certainly was a factor. Without fortuitous opportunities at the beginning of his career no one would ever
have heard of the obscure Corsican working in the Topographic Bureau in Paris. Without the energies
released by Lazare Carnot’s appeal to “all Frenchmen” to save the Revolution, Napoleon would not have
had the tools to prosecute his wars and the advantage over his “eighteenth century, limited war” opponents.
It was his fate, however, to push too far and in the end he was defeated in spite of his genius.

Notes

1 Owen Connelly, Blundering to Glory: Napoleon’s Military Campaigns (Wilmington, Del., 1987), 1.
2 Ibid.
3 Ibid., 181. The numbers vary somewhat from author to author but George Nafziger’s are typical. He states that out of 680,500 men in all of the
armies only ninety-three thousand remained at the end of the campaign. Of the remainder, 370,000 died, and two hundred thousand were captured,
half of whom died in captivity. The rest just disappeared. George Nafziger, Napoleon’s Invasion of Russia (Novato, Calif., 1988), 333.

6

Clausewitz

by Thomas M. Huber

Early modern Europe in the sixteenth to eighteenth centuries developed a growing lore of military
thought. Much of that lore was captured and reformulated by two thinkers—Carl von Clausewitz and
Antoine de Jomini—who came out of the Napoleonic experience and tried to capture its essence in their
own theories of warfare. Much of the serious thought about warfare in the nineteenth and twentieth
centuries has taken one or both of these two thinkers as its point of departure.

Carl von Clausewitz was born in Prussia in 1780. His father had been a minor tax official who had
served earlier as a lieutenant in the Prussian army. Carl entered the Prussian army himself and attended
the military school in Berlin in 1801, where Scharnhorst had recently become commandant. Clausewitz
would be a member throughout his career of the circle of talented military reformers around Scharnhorst
and Gneisenau. Clausewitz graduated at the top of his class in 1804 in time to serve as an aide to a
Prussian prince in the battles of Jena and Auerstadt in 1806. Prussian forces lost badly, and Clausewitz
was obliged to spend a year as a prisoner on parole in French territory. He returned to Prussia in 1807 to
become an aide to Scharnhorst in the temporary capital of Koenigsberg and between 1807 and 1811
quietly helped Scharnhorst to develop plans to reform the Prussian military to resist Napoleon. Rather
than join the force that Napoleon was compelling Prussia to contribute to his coming Russian campaign,
Clausewitz and some thirty other officers resigned their commissions and took service in the Russian
Army.

In 1812 Clausewitz served as a staff colonel on the Russian side and was finally accepted back in the
Prussian service in 1813 after Napoleon’s defeat in Russia. Clausewitz was chief of staff for Thielmann’s
corps at Wavre during the battle of Waterloo and so played a part in holding Grouchy away from the
Waterloo field, an event that may have been decisive for the battle’s outcome. In 1818 Clausewitz was
made administrative director of the war college in Berlin and promoted to major general. He took
advantage of the years of peace to write numerous campaign histories and political essays, as well as to
develop the theoretical writings that would later appear as his famous On War. In 1831, Clausewitz was
dispatched to be governor of Prussian territories in Poland where a cholera epidemic had just broken out.
Unfortunately, he succumbed to the disease in the same year. His widow arranged for his theoretical
writings to be edited and published as On War in 1832.

Clausewitz’s approach to theory was remarkable in that he insisted that theory should remain close
to practice. He believed the realm of theory and the realm of practice to be distinct and separate, but he
felt that there should be a kind of contrapuntal dialogue between the two realms such that theoretical
insights could be constantly used to improve practice and that practical insights could be constantly used
to improve theory. In other words he brought Kantian idealism directly to bear on real world problems.
Clausewitz was influenced also by Montesquieu’s Spirit of the Laws (1748) and tried to do for war what
Montesquieu had done for law, namely create a comprehensive theory. Clausewitz is also sometimes
seen

as an heir to Machiavelli in that he explored the modern relationship of war to politics as Machiavelli had
in his Art of War (1520).

Clausewitz viewed the relationship between the theory and practice of war as being somewhat
analogous to the relationship between theory and practice in painting, music, or architecture. Theory and
practice were interactive and mutually enhancing, as we have seen. He also saw a similar relationship in
war as in art between theory and the gifted practitioner. The military genius was like the artistic genius;
Napoleon was like a Michelangelo or a Beethoven. What made them alike, besides intrinsic charisma,
was their relationship to the rules of their craft. They knew the rules better than others, and more, they
were masters of the rules. They knew when and why to break the rules and occasionally discovered new
ones. They did not ignore the rules; they used them brilliantly and sometimes transcended them.

Clausewitz saw war as “suspended between three magnets,” policy, probability, and passion. War
involved an interplay between these unlike elements so that it was a kind of paradoxical trinity. He
viewed war as being “politics by other means,” perhaps his most famous formulation. He elaborated
notions of friction, chance, danger, and genius in his analysis of war. He explored psychological factors at
work among commanders and troops. He addressed the differences between absolute and limited war. He
pondered whether offense or defense were the stronger form of war.

Clausewitz’s work was intelligent, original, and profound, and he would prove to be one of the most
influential military thinkers of modern times. This would especially be true after Prussian victories over
the French in 1870 focused the world’s attention on Prussian methods and Prussian thought. Still,
Clausewitz’s main strengths were in approaching political and strategic issues. He attempted to be
comprehensive but hardly could have succeeded entirely in so ambitious a project. He had relatively little
to say about naval warfare, deployment, psychology of units, or modern people’s war, subjects that
fortunately would be addressed by talented contemporaries and successors. In the weeks ahead, we will
examine some of these other thinkers—Mahan, Jomini, and Mao.

Excerpts from
Introductory Material to Summary of the Art of War

by Baron de Jomini

It is extraordinary enough to accuse me of having said that the art of war did not exist before me,
when in the chapter of Principles, published in

1

807, of which I have before spoken, and which had a
certain success in the military world, the first phase commenced with these words: “the art of war has
existed from time immemorial.”

* * * What I have said is, that there were no books which proclaimed the existence of general principles,
and made the application of them through strategy to all the combinations of the theatre of war: I have
said that I was the first to attempt that demonstration, which others improved ten years after me, without,
however, it being yet complete. Those who would deny this truth would not be candid.

As for the rest, I have never soiled my pen by attacking personally studious men who devote
themselves to science, and if I have not shared their dogmas, I have expressed as much with moderation
and impartiality; it were to be desired that it should ever be thus. Let us return to our subject.

The artillery, since Gribeauval and d’Urtubie has had its Aide-Memoire, and a mass of particular
works, in the number of which are distinguished those of Decker, Paixhaus, Dedon, Hoyer, Ravichio and
Bouvroy. The discussions of several authors, among others those of the Marquis de Chambray and of
General Okounieff upon the fire of Infantry. Finally, the dissertations of a host of officers, recorded in the
interesting military journals of Vienna, of Berlin, of Munich, of Stutgard [sic] and of Paris, have
contributed also to the successive progress of the parts which they have discussed.

Some essays have been attempted towards a history of the art, from the ancients down to our time.
Tranchant Laverne has done so with spirit and sagacity, but incompletely. Cario Nisas, too verbose with
regard to the ancients, mediocre for the epoch from the revival to that of the Seven Years War, has
completely failed on the modern system. Roquancourt has treated the same subjects with more success.
The Prussian Major Ciriaci and his continuator have done still better. Finally, Captain Blanch, a
Neapolitan officer, has made an interesting analysis of the different periods of the art as written and
practised.

After this long list of modern writers, it will be judged that Marshal de Saxe, if he were to return
among us, would be much surprised at the present wealth of our military literature, and would no longer
complain of the darkness which shrouds the science. Henceforth good books will not be wanting to those
who shall wish to study, for at this day we have principles, whereas they had in the 18th century only
methods and systems.

1

Meanwhile, it must be owned, to render theory as complete as possible, there is an important work
wanting, which, according to all appearances, will be wanting yet a long time; it is a thoroughly profound
examination of the four different systems followed within a century past: that of the Seven Years War;
that of the first campaigns of the Revolution; that of the grand invasions of Napoleon; finally, that of
Wellington. From this investigation it would be necessary to deduce a mixed system, proper for regular
wars, which should participate of the methods of Frederick and of those of Napoleon; or, more properly
speaking, it would be necessary to develop a double system for ordinary wars of power against power,
and for grand invasions. I have sketched a view of this important labor, in article

2

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, chapter III: but as
the subject would require whole volumes, I have been obliged to limit myself to indicating the task to him
who should have the courage and the leisure to accomplish it well, and who should at the same time be
fortunate enough to find the justification of those mixed doctrines, in new events which should serve him
as tests.

In the meantime, I will terminate this rapid sketch by a profession of faith upon the polemics of which
this compend and my first treatise have been the subject. In weighing all that has been said for or against,
in comparing the immense progress made in the science for the last thirty years, with the incredulity of M.
Clausewitz, I believe I am correct in concluding that the ensemble of my principles and of the maxims
which are derived from them, has been badly comprehended by several writers; that some have made the
most erroneous application of them; that others have drawn from them exaggerated consequences which
have never been able to enter my head, for a general officer, after having assisted in a dozen campaigns,
ought to know that war is a great drama, in which a thousand physical or moral causes operate more or
less powerfully, and which cannot be reduced to mathematical calculations.

But, I ought equally to avow without circumlocution, that twenty years of experience have but
fortified me in the following convictions:

“There exists a small number of fundamental principles of war, which could not be deviated from
without danger, and the application of which, on the contrary, has been in almost all time crowned with
success.

“The maxims of application which are derived from those principles are also small in number, and if
they are found sometimes modified according to circumstances, they can nevertheless serve in general as
a compass to the chief of an army to guide him in the task, always difficult and complicated, of
conducting grand operations in the midst of the noise and tumult of combats.

“Natural genius will doubtless know how, by happy inspirations, to apply principles as well as the
best studied theory could do it; but a simple theory, disengaged from all pedantry, ascending to causes
without giving absolute systems, based in a word upon a few fundamental maxims, will often supply
genius, and will even serve to extend its development by augmenting its confidence in its own
inspirations.

“Of all theories on the art of war, the only reasonable one is that which, founded upon the study of
military history, admits a certain number of regulating principles, but leaves to natural genius the greatest
part in the general conduct of a war without trammeling it with exclusive rules.

“On the contrary, nothing is better calculated to kill natural genius and to cause error to triumph, than
those pedantic theories, based upon the false idea that war is a positive science, all the operations of
which can be reduced to infallible calculations.

“Finally, the metaphysical and skeptical works of a few writers will not succeed, either, in causing it
to be believed that there exists no rule for war, for their writings prove absolutely nothing against maxims

2

supported upon the most brilliant modern feats of arms, and justified by the reasoning even of those who
believe they are combatting them.”

I hope, that after these avowals, I could not be accused of wishing to make of this art a mechanism of
determined wheelworks, nor of pretending on the contrary that the reading of a single chapter of
principles is able to give, all at once, the talent of conducting an army. In all the arts, as in all the
situations of life, knowledge and skill are two altogether different things, and if one often succeed through
the latter alone, it is never but the union of the two that constitutes a superior man and assures complete
success. Meanwhile, in order not to be accused of pedantry, I hasten to avow that, by knowledge, I do not
mean a vast erudition; it is not the question to know a great deal but to know well; to know especially
what relates to the mission appointed us.

I pray that my readers, well penetrated with these truths, may receive with kindness this new
summary, which may now, I believe, be offered as the book most suitable for the instruction of a prince or
a statesman.

________

I have not thought it my duty to make mention, in the above notice, of the military historical works
which have signalized our epoch, because they do not in reality enter into the subject which I have to
treat. However, as those of our epoch have also contributed to the progress of the science, in seeking to
explain causes of success, I shall be permitted to say a few words on them.

Purely military history is of a thankless and difficult kind, for, in order to be useful to men of the art,
it requires details not less dry than minute, but necessary in order to cause positions and movements to be
judged accurately. Therefore, until the imperfect sketch of the Seven Years War which Lloyd has given,
none of the military writers had come out of the beaten track of official narratives or of panegyrics more
or less fatiguing.

The military historians of the 18th century who had held the first rank were, Dumont, Quincy,
Bourcet, Pezay, Grimoard, Retzow, and Tempelhoff; the latter especially had made of it a kind of school,
although his work is a little overcharged with the details of marches and encampments: details very good,
without doubt for fields of combat, but very useless in the history of a whole war, since they are
represented almost every day under the same form.

Purely military history has furnished, in France as in Germany, writings so numerous since 1792, that
their nomenclature alone would form a pamphlet. I shall, nevertheless, signalize here the first campaigns
of the Revolution by Grimoard; those of General Gravert; the memoirs of Suchet and of Saint-Cyr; the
fragments of Gourgaud and of Montholon; the great enterprise of victories and conquests under the
direction of General Beauvais; the valuable collection of battles by Colonel Wagner and that of Major
Kaussler; the Spanish War by Napier; that of Egypt by Reynier; the campaigns of Suwaroff by Laverne;
the partial narratives of Stutterhein and of Labaume.*

Until the fall of Napoleon, politico-military history had had for many centuries but a single
remarkable work; that of Frederick the Great, entitled History of my time.† This species, which demands
at the same time an elegant style and a vast and profound knowledge of history and politics, requires also

* We might cite yet the interesting narratives of Saintine, of Mortonval, of Lapenne[,] Lenoble, Lafaille, as well as those of the Prussian Major
Spahl upon Catalonia, of Baron V Iderndorf on the campaigns of the Bavarians, and a host of other writings of the same nature.

† Several political historians, like Ancillon, Segur the elder, Karamsin, Guichardin, Archenholz, Schiller, Daru, Michaud and Salvandy, have
recounted also with talent many operations of war, but they cannot be counted in the number of military writers.

3

a military genius sufficient for judging events accurately. It would be necessary to describe the relations
or the interests of states like Ancillon, and recount battles like Napoleon or Frederick, to produce a chef-
d’ouvre of this kind. If we still await this chef-d’ouvre, it must be owned that some good works have
appeared within the last thirty years; in this number we must put the war in Spain of Foy; the summary of
military events of Mathieu H. Dumas, and the manuscripts of Fain; although the second is wanting in firm
points of view, and the last sins through too much partiality. Afterwards come the works of M. Segur the
younger, a writer full of genius and of wise views, who has proved to us, by the history of Charles VIII,
that with a little more nature in his style he might bear away from his predecessors the historic palm of the
great age which yet awaits its Polybus. In the third rank we shall place the histories of Toulongeon and of
Servan.*

Finally, there is a third kind, that of critical history, applied to the principles of the art, and more
especially designed to develop the relations of events with those principles. Feuquieres and Lloyd had
indicated the road without having had many imitators until the Revolution. This last species, less brilliant
in its forms, is for that perhaps only the more useful in its results, especially where criticism is not pushed
to the rigor which should often render it false and unjust.

Within the last twenty years, this half didactic, half critical history has made more progress than the
others, or at least it has been cultivated with more success, and has produced incontestable results. The
campaigns published by the Arch-Duke Charles, those anonymous ones of General Muffling, the partial
relations of Generals Pelet, Boutourlin, Clausewitz,† Okounieff, Valentini, Ruhle; those of Messrs. de
Laborde, Koch, de Chambrai, Napier; finally, the fragments published by Messrs. Wagner and Scheel, in
the interesting journals of Berlin and Vienna, have all more or less assisted in the development of the
science of war. Perhaps I may be permitted also to claim a small part in this result in favor of my long
critical and military history of the wars of the Revolution, and of the other historical works which I have
published, for, written especially to prove the permanent triumph of the application of principles, those
works have never failed to bring all the facts to this dominant point of view, and in this respect at least,
they have had some success; I invoke in support of this assertion, the piquante critical analysis of the war
of the Spanish Succession, given by Captain Dumesnil.

Thanks to this concurrence of didactic works and of critical history, the teaching of the science is no
longer so difficult, and the professors who would be embarrassed at this day, in making good courses with
a thousand examples to support them, would be sad professors. It must not be concluded, however, that
the art has arrived at that point that it cannot make another step towards perfection. There is nothing
perfect under the sun!!! And if a committee were assembled under the presidency of the Arch Duke
Charles or Wellington, composed of all the strategic and tactical notabilities of the age, together with the
most skillful generals of engineers and artillery, this committee could not yet succeed in making a perfect,
absolute and immutable theory on all the branches of war, especially on tactics!

* I do not speak of the political and military life of Napoleon recounted by himself because it has been said that I was the author of it; with regard
to those of Norvins and of Tibaudeau, they are not military.

† The works of Clausewitz have been incontestably useful, although it is often less by the ideas of the author, than by the contrary ideas to which
he gives birth. They would have been more useful still, if a pretentious and pedantic style did not frequently render them unintelligible. But if, as
a didactic author, he has raised more doubts than he has discovered truths, as a critical historian, he has been an unscrupulous plaigerist [sic],
pillaging his predecessors, copying their reflections, and saying evil afterwards of their works, after having travestied them under other forms.
Those who shall have read my campaign of 1799, published ten years before his, will not deny my assertion, for there is not one of my reflections
which he has not repeated.

4

Military History: Is It Still Practicable?

by Jay Luvaas

There was a day, before the advent of the A-bomb and its more destructive offspring, before smart
bombs and nerve gas, before computer technology and war games, when professional soldiers regarded
reading history as a useful pastime. Many who have scaled the peaks of the military profession have
testified to the utility of studying military history.

Most of these, however, seem to be commanding voices out of the past. MacArthur, steeped in
family tradition and familiar with many of the

4

000 volumes inherited from his father, was never at a loss
for a historical example to underscore his point of view; Krueger, as a young officer, translated books
and articles from the German military literature; Eisenhower spent countless hours listening to the
erudite Fox Conner on what could be learned from military history; Marshall and his contemporaries at
the Army Staff College at Leavenworth reconstructed Civil War campaigns from the after-action reports;
Patton took the time in

1

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4

3

to read a book on the Norman conquest of Sicily nearly nine centuries
earlier and to ponder “the many points in common with our operations”;1 and Eichelberger summoned
from memory a passage he had read ten years before in Grant’s Memoirs (which ought to be required
reading for all officers) and thereby stiffened his resolve to press home the attack at Buna. These Army
commanders were all remarkably well versed in history.

So were many of their civilian superiors. President Franklin D. Roosevelt was an avid reader of
naval history, and Harry Truman frequently acknowledged the pertinent lessons that he had gleaned from
a lifetime of exposure to history:

Reading history, to me, was far more than a romantic adventure. It was solid instruction

and wise teaching which I somehow felt that I … needed…. It seemed to me that if I
could understand the true facts about the … development of the United States
Government and could know the details of the lives of … its political leaders, I would be
getting for myself a valuable … education…. I know of no surer way to get a solid
foundation in political science and public administration than to study the histories of
past administrations of the world’s most successful system of government.

2

Because the military is a “practical” profession geared much of the time to problem-solving,
soldierslike engineers and scientiststend to be pragmatic about what is meant by the word
“practicable.” History is “practicable” if it yields lessons, especially exemplary lessons in tactics and
strategy that can be directly applied to some current situation. History is “useful” in illustrating points of
doctrine, in instilling in the young officer the proper military values or an appreciation for our military

1 As quoted in Martin Blumenson, The Patton Papers, Vol. II: 1940–194

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(Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 19

7

4), p. 2

8

3.
2 Harry S. Truman, Memoirs, Vol. I: Years of Decision (Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday, 1955), p.

11

9.

1

heritage. The “practical” man often scans the past for some magical formula that may ensure success in
war, like Field Marshall [sic] von Schlieffen’s theory of envelopment, or Captain B. H. Liddell Hart’s
strategy of indirect approach.

Such assumptions inevitably determine the way military history is taught. Because an important duty
of the officer in peacetime is to teach, and because in the Army teaching usually involves explaining, it is
often assumed that history, to be taught, must be explained. The emphasis therefore is on organizing and
presenting information in a lucid, often lavishly illustrated lecture, in which tidy answers outrank nagging
questions in the minds of everyone involved. The inference on the part of most students, if not the
instructor, is that a person who remembers the lecture will somehow have learned history. It’s a mistaken
assumption we all make.

It is also true that no other field of history is under as much pressure as military history to provide
“practical” answers to some current problem. If military history cannot provide such answers, why study
it? The specialist in Renaissance diplomacy is rarely solicited for his views on foreign policy but, rather,
is left alone to concentrate his thoughts on the cold war with the Turks in the 15th century. Nor is the
scholar who has spent a lifetime studying the ramifications of the French Revolution apt to be consulted
when news breaks of still another palace coup in some Latin-American banana republic. But let a
historian or journalist prowl around in some remote corner in the field of military history and often he will
be expected, even tempted, to function as a current-affairs military analyst.

Perhaps we think this way because, as a society, we are largely ignorant about both the facts and the
nature of history. In high school, European History no longer is required, having been replaced by
something called “Western Civilization.” We know astonishingly little about the history of other
societies, and most of us, unfortunately, care even less. Students voting with their feet in colleges and
universities across the nation have caused enrollments in history courses to plummet as they turn to “more
practical” subjects such as economics, psychology, biology, engineering, and business administration. In
the Army’s schools, history has become a casualty of the Vietnam War; clearly the emphasis now is upon
training. Even at the Military Academy, the required course in the military art was severely curtailed
several years ago and only recently has been restored to its logical place in the curriculum. For that
matter, how many officers who have invested off-duty hours to work toward an advanced degree have
taken it in history? In the officer corps of today, the subject is rarely considered “practicable.”

More to the point, is the Army as an institution as historical-minded as it was in the past? For without
even a rudimentary understanding of history and its processes, there is no way that the past can be made
to offer object lessons for the future. Professor Pieter Geyl, a distinguished Dutch historian, reminds us
that it is useless to talk about “the lessons of history” when the historian “is after all only a man sitting at
his desk.”3 The lessons that we would learn are histhe fruits of his labors, the creation of his
imagination, perhaps the idea that he is to sell to the reader. For, as a German general asserted a hundred
years ago, “it is well known that military history, when superficially studied, will furnish arguments in
support of any theory or opinion.”4

COMMON FALLACIES

Perhaps the most frequent error in the abuse of history is to take historical examples out of context.
Once removed from its historical context, which is always unique, a battle or a campaign ceases to offer
meaningful lessons from history. According to Napoleon, “old Frederick laughed in his sleeve at the
parades of Potsdam when he perceived young officers, French, English, and Austrian so infatuated with

3 Pieter Geyl, Napoleon For and Against (New Haven: Yale Univ. Press, 19

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3), p. 15.
4 As quoted in Prince Kraft zu Hohenlohe-Ingelfingen, Letters on Artillery, 2d ed. (London: Edward Stanford, 1890), p.

10

8.

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the manoeuvre of the oblique order, which (in itself) was fit for nothing but to gain a few adjutant-majors
a reputation.” Napoleon appreciated that the secret of Frederick’s successes was not the oblique order, but
Frederick. “Genius acts through inspiration,” Napoleon concluded. “What is good in one case is bad in
another.”5

One of Frederick’s own soldiers demonstrated that in another environment even Frederick’s
maneuvers might fail. When Baron von Steuben, who had served in the Prussian Army throughout the
Seven Years’ War, was trying to make soldiers out of Washington’s shivering, half-starved volunteers at
Valley Forge, he knew better than to waste precious time teaching those complex maneuvers he had
mastered under Frederick. Instead he selected only those that were essential to meet the unique conditions
that prevailed in America, where volunteers had only a few months instead of years to master the
intricacies of Frederick’s drill, and where officers had to learn to lead by example instead of relying upon
the severity of the Prussian system. Soldiers, Frederick repeatedly had warned, “can be held in check only
through fear” and should therefore be made to “fear their officers more than all the dangers to which they
are exposed…. Good will can never induce the common soldier to stand up to such dangers; he will only
do so through fear.”6 Whatever may have motivated Washington’s amateur soldiers at Valley Forge, most
certainly it was not fear.

If there is a lesson here for us, it is simply that solutions to problems are not to be viewed as
interchangeable parts. Even the Germans in World War II apparently failed to heed this lesson in drawing
conclusions from their own war experiences. In addition to displaying a tendency to generalize from
personal or limited experience, they often indiscriminately applied the experiences of one situation to
entirely different circumstances. Thus the German Supreme Command “applied the experiences acquired
on the Western Front in 1940, unchanged, to the war against Russia” despite the “greater tenacity” of the
Russian soldier, his “insensibility against threatening the flanks,” the scarcity of roads, and the vast space
involved “giving … the opponent the possibility of avoiding decision.” In the words of one German
general, not only did this misapplication of experience influence the operational plan against Russia, it
also “contributed to the final disappointment.”7

It is also a distortion to compress the past into distinctive patterns, for it is as true of history as it is of
nature that “each man reads his own peculiar lesson according to his own peculiar mind and mood.”8
History responds generously to the adage “seek and ye shall find.” At the turn of the century the Chief of
the German General Staff, Count Alfred von Schlieffen, was faced with the need to plan for a war on two
fronts. His solution was to point toward a quick victory on one front in order to avoid ultimate defeat on
both, and his inspiration for the battle of annihilation essential to a quick victory came, at least in part,
from reading the first volume of Hans Delbrück’s Geschichte der Kriegskunst, which was published in
1900. Delbrück’s treatment of the battle of Cannae in 216 B.C. convinced Schlieffen that Hannibal had
won his lopsided victory by deliberately weakening his center and attacking with full force from both
flanks. The much publicized Schlieffen Plan was an adaptation of this idea. Having thus discovered the
“key,” Schlieffen turned in his writings to the idea of envelopment to unlock the secrets of Frederick the
Great and Napoleon, both of whom, he claimed, had always attempted to envelop the enemy. Similarly,
Captain B. H. Liddell Hart was to discover from his research for a biography of Sherman that the key to
Sherman’s success lay in a strategy of indirect approach. When he turned to history at large for
confirmation, of course he “discovered” that nearly all successful generals, whether they had been aware
of it or not, had employed something akin to the strategy of indirect approach. The future British field
marshal Sir Archibald Wavell, who always found Liddell Hart’s ideas stimulating whether he agreed with

5 Memoirs of the History of France during the reign of Napoleon, dictated by the Emperor at Saint Helena …(7 vols.; London: Henry Colburn and
Company, 1828), VI, 18–27; Ernest Picard, Preceptes et jugements de Napoleon (Paris: Berger-Leurault, 19

13

), pp. 405–06.

6 Frederick the Great on the Art of War, ed. and trans. by Jay Luvaas (New York: The Free Press, 1966), pp. 77–78.
7 Lothar Rendulic, “Mistakes in Deducing War Experiences,” Historical Division, European Command, 10 October 1951. Italics added.
8 Herman Melville, as quoted in John Bartlett, Familiar Quotations,

14

th ed. (Boston: Little, Brown, 1968), p. 698.

3

them or not, once slyly suggested to the captain: “With your knowledge and brains and command of the
pen, you could have written just as convincing a book called the ‘Strategy of the Direct Approach.’ ”9
Wavell appreciated that it was Liddell Hart and not the muse of history who preached this attractive
doctrine.

Moreover, nothing is necessarily proven by citing examples from history. There are many works on
military theory that provide examples of bad argument from analogy or authority; such faulty use of
historical examples, according to Karl von Clausewitz, “not only leaves the reader dissatisfied but even
irritates his intelligence.” The mere citation of historical examples provides only the semblance of proof,
although the reader who understands little about the nature of history may set aside his book convinced of
the essential truth of some new theory, and the audience exposed to a well-organized and seemingly
cogent lecture sprinkled with examples from history is equally vulnerable. “There are occasions,”
Clausewitz noted,

where nothing will be proven by a dozen examples…. If anyone lists a dozen defeats in
which the losing side attacked with divided columns, I can list a dozen victories in which
that very tactic was employed. Obviously this is no way to reach a conclusion.

And if the author or lecturer has never mastered the events he describes, “such superficial, irresponsible
handling of history leads to hundreds of wrong ideas and bogus theorizing.”10

Perhaps the greatest disservice to history and its lessons comes from its frequent association with a
given set of military principles or doctrine, and here the celebrated Swiss theorist Baron de Jomini may
have had an unfortunate influence. Drawing upon an exhaustive examination of 30 campaigns of
Frederick and Napoleon, Jomini deduced certain fixed maxims and principles which he claimed were
both eternal and universal in their application. If such maxims would not produce great generals they
would “at least make generals sufficiently skillful to hold the second rank among the great captains” and
would thus serve as “the true school for generals.”11

To future generations of young officers, Jomini said, in effect: “Gentlemen, I have not found a single
instance where my principles, correctly applied, did not lead to success. They are based upon my
unrivaled knowledge of the campaigns of Napoleon, much of it acquired at first hand, and of the basic
works of Thiers, Napier, Lloyd, Tempelhof, Foy, and the Archduke Charles. Thanks to my labors you
need not invest years of your own time in scrutinizing these voluminous histories. Did not Napoleon
himself confess: ‘I have studied history a great deal, and often, for want of a guide, have been forced to
lose considerable time in useless reading’? You have only to study my principles and apply them
faithfully, for ‘there exists a fundamental principle of all the operations of war’ which you neglect at your
peril.”

12

Jomini had many prominent disciples, and their books were nearly all written on the assumption that
battles and campaigns, ancient as well as modern, have succeeded or failed to the degree that they
adhered to the principles of war as explained by Jomini and could be confirmed by the “constant
teachings of history.” But where Jomini read history, many of his followers read primarily Jomini and
thus were one step removed from history and its processes.

9 Wavell to Liddell Hart, 15 March 1934, Liddell Hart Papers, State House, Medmenham, England.
10 Karl von Clausewitz, On War, ed. And trans. By Michael Howard and Peter Paret (Princeton: Princeton Univ. Press, 1976), pp. 170, 172–73.
11 Baron de Jomini, Summary of the Art of War …(New York: Greenwood Press, 1954), p. 329.
12 The quote from Napoleon is found in his “Observations on a plan to establish a special school of literature and history at the College of

France,” 19 April 1807, Correspondance de Napoleon Ier (32 vols.; Paris: Imprimerie Imperiale, 1858–70), XV, 107–10.

4

The emergence of doctrine (as late as the American Civil War there were only drill manuals) and the
introduction of historical sections on most European general staffs after the Prussian victories in 1866 and
1870 meant that increasingly, in the eyes of professional soldiers at least, military history was linked to
doctrine and more specifically, to the principles of war as these principles were rediscovered and refined.
Since World War I it has become fashionable to use history to illustrate the official principles of war as
they are variously defined.

There are three dangers inherent in this approach. In the first place, pressed into service in this way
history can only illustrate something already perceived as being true; it cannot prove its validity or lead to
new discoveries. This is probably the terrain on which most soldiers first encounter the subject, and they
would do well to heed the warning of Clausewitz that if “some historical event is being presented in order
to demonstrate a general truth, care must be taken that every aspect bearing on the truth at issue is fully
and circumstantially developedcarefully assembled … before the reader’s eyes.” In other words, the
theorist ought to be a pretty good historian. Clausewitz goes so far as to suggest that, even though
historical examples have the advantage of “being more realistic and of bringing the idea they are
illustrating to life,” if the purpose of history is really to explain doctrine, “an imaginary case would do as
well.”13 Moreover, to use history primarily to illustrate accepted principles is really to put the cart before
the horse. If one starts with what is perceived as truth and searches history for confirmation or
illustrations, there can be no “lessons learned.” How can there be?

A second weakness in linking history to doctrine is the natural tendency to let doctrine sit in judgment
of historical events. Sir William Napier, who had a healthy respect for Jomini’s theories, used his maxims
as a basis for rendering historical judgment on the generalship of French and British leaders in his classic
History of the War in the Peninsula. Similarly, Major General Sir Patrick MacDougall “discovered” that
these maxims could also serve as criteria for judging the generalship of Hannibal, and Matthew F.
Steele’s American Campaigns, which was published in 1909 and endured as a text at the Military
Academy and other Army schools even beyond World War II, used the maxims of Jomini, von der Goltz,
and other late-19th-century theorists to form the basis for historical commentary on the generalship of
individual American commanders.

Most serious of all is the ease and frequency with which faith in doctrine has actually distorted
history. This was happening frequently by the end of the 19th century as each army in Europe developed
and became committed to its own doctrine. It is the primary reason why the tactical and strategical lessons
of the Civil War, which in many respects was the first modern war, went unheeded.14 Even the elaborate
German General Staff histories on the wars of Frederick the Great and the wars of liberation against
Napoleon never failed to drive home the soundness of current German doctrine,15 and the German official
histories of the Boer War and the Russo-Japanese War similarly serve to demonstrate above all else the
continuing validity of German doctrine. The Boers had applied that doctrine and therefore usually won, at
least in the earlier battles before the weight of numbers alone could determine the outcome. British
doctrine was faulty, if indeed the British yet had a doctrine, and therefore the British suffered repeated
defeats. The Germans had trained the Japanese Army and the Japanese had won in 1904–05, “proving”
again the superiority of German doctrine. Had a trained historian instead of an officer serving a tour with
the Military History Section analyzed the same campaigns, surely he would have asked some searching
questions about the differences in the discipline, morale, and leadership of the two armies. Did the
Japanese cavalry win, for example, because of superior doctrine based on shock tactics or because it was
better disciplined and led? To the officer corps of the day, the results demonstrated the weakness of the

13 Clausewitz, On War, pp. 171–72.
14 See Jay Luvaas, Military Legacy of the Civil War (Chicago: Univ. of Chicago Press, 1959), pp. 119–69 passim.
15 See Alfred Vagts, A History of Militarism, rev. ed. (New York: Meridian Books, 1959), p. 26; A. L. Conger’s remarks in “Proceedings of the

Conference on Military History,” Annual Report of the American Historical Association for the year 1912 (Washington: GPO, 1914), pp. 162–
74.

5

Russian Army’s mounted infantry concepts in the face of shock tactics, whereas 10 years later, in a war
that, at the outset, was strikingly similar in the conditions prevailing on the battlefield, shock tactics did
not prevail anywhere for long.

Thus military history distilled by Jomini and his disciples ultimately found itself shaped by a
commitment to doctrine, and the instinct of most professional soldiers before World War I was to explain
away exceptions to the official rules rather than to use history as a means of testing and refining them.

FACTS IN HISTORY

Although it is not always evident in a lecture or a textbook, we can never be completely certainand
therefore in agreementabout what actually happened in history. Frederick and Napoleon knew this well.
Skeptical both of the historian’s motives and of the reliability of his facts, they evinced a healthy
skepticism about the ability of the human mind ever to recreate an event as it actually had happened.

“The true truths are very difficult to ascertain,” Napoleon complained. “There are so many truths!”16

Historical fact … is often a mere word; it cannot be ascertained when events actually
occur, in the heat of contrary passions; and if, later on, there is a consensus, this is only
because there is no one left to contradict…. What is … historical truth? … An agreed
upon fiction…. There are facts that remain in eternal litigation.17

A Union staff officer whose corps bore the brunt of Pickett’s charge at Gettysburg put it a different
way:

A full account of the battle as it was will never, can never, be made. Who could sketch
the charges, the constant fighting of the bloody panorama! It is not possible. The official
reports may give results as to losses, with statements of attacks and repulses; they may
also note the means by which results were attained … but the connection between means
and results, the mode, the battle proper, these reports touch lightly. Two prominent
reasons … account for the general inadequacy of these official reports … the literary
infirmity of the reporters, and their not seeing themselves and their commands as others
would have seen them. And factions, and parties, and politics … are already putting in
their unreasonable demands…. Of this battle greater than Waterloo, a history, just,
comprehensive, complete, will never be written. By-and-by, out of the chaos of trash and
falsehood that newspapers hold, out of the disjointed mass of reports, out of the traditions
and tales that come down from the field, some eye that never saw the battle will select,
and some pen will write what will be named the history. With that the world will be, and
if we are alive we must be, content.18

This writer intuitively understood that as soon as the historian begins to impose order on something as
chaotic as a battle, he distorts. If his narrative is to mean anything at all to the reader he must simplify and
organize the “disjointed mass of reports.” He must, for lack of space, omit incidents that did not
contribute to the final result. He must resolve controversies, not merely report them, and he must
recognize that not every general is candid, every report complete, every description accurate. Orders are
not always executed; not every order is even relevant to the situation. At Gettysburg, the watches in the
two armies were set 20 minutes apart, and after the battle Lee had some of his subordinates rewrite their

16 As quoted in J. Christopher Herold, The Mind of Napoleon (New York: Columbia Univ. Press, 1955), p. 50.
17 Ibid.
18 Frank L. Byrne and Andrew T. Weaver, eds., Haskell of Gettysburg (Madison: State Historical Society of Wisconsin, 1970), pp. 200–01.

6

after-action reports to avoid unnecessary dissension. Well may it be said that “on the actual day of battle
naked truths may be picked up for the asking; by the following morning they have already begun to get
into their uniforms.”19

During World War I, German General Max Hoffman confided to his diary: “For the first time in my
life I have … seen ‘History’ at close quarters, and I know that its actual process is very different from
what is presented to posterity.”20 Plutarch Lied is the descriptive title of an impassioned indictment of the
French military leadership on the other side of no-man’s land:

Men who yesterday seemed destined to oblivion have, today, acquired immortality. Has
some new virtue been instilled in them, has some magician touched them with his wand?
… Civilian historians have studied historical events from a point of view which is
exclusively military. Far from trusting to their own judgment, they have not considered it
respectful to exercise their critical faculties on the facts as guaranteed by a body of
specialists. An idolatrous admiration for everything which concerns the army has
conferred upon them the favour of having eyes which do not see and memories which are
oblivious of their own experiences…. An incredible conspiracy exists in France at this
very moment. No one dares to write the truth.21

Even with the best of intentions and an impartial mind, it is difficult to reconstruct what actually
happened in history. This truth was given eloquent expression by a French pilot on a reconnaissance flight
to Arras in May 1940 as he reflected on the chaos engulfing a dying society 30,000 feet below.

Ah, the blueprint that historians will draft of all this! The angles they will plot to lend
shape to this mess! They will take the word of a cabinet minister, the decision of a
general, the discussion of a committee, and out of that parade of ghosts they will build
historic conversations in which they will discern farsighted views and weighty
responsibilities. They will invent agreements, resistances, attitudinous pleas, cowardices.
… Historians will forget reality. They will invent thinking men, joined by mysterious
fibers to an intelligible universe, possessed of sound far-sighted views and pondering
grave decisions according to the purest laws of Cartesian logic.22

Even where there can be agreement on facts, there will be disagreements among historians. “To
expect from history those final conclusions which may perhaps be obtained in other disciplines is … to
misunderstand its nature.” Something akin to the scientific method helps to establish facts, but the
function of the historian is also to explain, to interpret, and to discriminate, and here “the personal
element can no longer be ruled out…. Truth, though for God it may be One, assumes many shapes to
men.”23

This explains the oft-quoted statement of Henry Adams, the famous American historian: “I have
written too much history to believe in it. So if anyone wants to differ from me, I am prepared to agree
with him.”24 No one who does not understand something about history could possibly know what Adams
meant by this apparently cynical statement. Certainly he did not intend to imply that history, because it
lacked unerring objectivity and precision, is of no practicable use to us. Quite the contrary. To recognize
the frail structure of history is the first essential step toward understanding, which is far more important

19 Ian Hamilton, A Staff Officer’s Scrap-Book during the Russo-Japanese War (2 vols; London: E. Arnold, 1906), I, v.
20 B. H. Liddell Hart, Through the Fog of War (London: Faber and Faber, 1938), p. 227.
21 Jean de Peirrefeu, Plutarch Lied (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1924), pp. 10, 23.
22 Antione de Saint-Exupery, Flight to Arras (New York: Reynal & Hitchcock, 1942), pp. 133–35.
23 Geyl, pp. 15–16.
24 As quoted in B. H. Liddell Hart, Why Don’t We Learn From History (London: George Allen & Unwin, 1946), p. 10.

7

in putting history to work than blind faith in the validity of isolated facts. History tends to inspire more
questions than answers, and the questions one asks of it determine the extent to which the subject may be
considered practicable.

MAKING HISTORY INSTRUCTIVE

What, then, can the professional soldier expect to learn from history? If it can offer no abstract
lessons to be applied indiscriminately or universally, if it cannot substantiate some cherished principles or
official doctrine, if the subject itself is liable to endless bickering and interpretation, what is the point of
looking at history at all?

Here Napoleon, whose writings and campaigns formed the basis of study for every principal military
theorist for a hundred years after his death,25 provides a useful answer in his first major campaign. When
he assumed command of the French army in Italy in 1796, he took with him a history of a campaign
conducted in the same theater by Marshal Maillebois half a century before, and more than one authority
has noted the similarity in the two campaigns. “In both cases the object was to separate the allies and beat
them in detail; in both cases the same passes through the maritime Alps were utilized, and in both cases
the first objectives were the same.”26 In 1806, when he sent his cavalry commander, Murat, to reconnoiter
the Bohemian frontier, he recommended that Murat take with him a history of the campaign that the
French had waged there in 1741, and three years later Napoleon approved the location of pontoon bridges
at Linz because Marshal Saxe had successfully constructed two bridges there in 1740. In 1813 he sent one
of his marshals “an account of the battle fought by Gustavus Adolphus in positions similar to those which
you occupy.”27

Obviously history served Napoleon not so much because it provided a model to be slavishly followed,
but because it offered ways to capitalize on what others before him had experienced. History, Liddell Hart
reminds us,

is universal experienceinfinitely longer, wider, and more varied than any individual’s
experience. How often do we hear people claim knowledge of the world and of life
because they are sixty or seventy years old?… There is no excuse for any literate person
if he is less than three thousand years old in mind.28

By this standard Patton was at least 900 years old after studying the Norman conquest of Sicily.

Napoleon also proposed, in 1807, the establishment of a special school of history at the College of
France that would have practical application for officers. Trained historians would teach the military
student how to make sound historical judgments, for Napoleon understood that “the correct way to read
history is a real science in itself.” He regarded the wars of the French Revolution as “fertile in useful
lessons,” yet apparently there had been no systematic effort to retrieve them. This too “would be an
important function of the professors in the special school of history.” For similar reasons Napoleon
ordered his War Minister in 1811 to have the Depot of War prepare comprehensive records of the sieges
and attacks of the fortified towns captured by the French armies in Germany, not for publication but for
ready reference. And he did not discourage the printing of a similar volume on the sieges in Spain.29

25 Our basic principles of war first appeared in their modern form in the early writings of J. F. C. Fuller, who in turn had deduced them from his
reading of the printed Correspondance of Napoleon. J. F. C. Fuller, The Foundations of the Science of War (London: Huchinson & Co., n.d.),
pp. 13–14.

26 J. Holland Rose, The Personality of Napoleon (New York: G. P. Putnam’s Sons, 1912), pp. 95–97.
27 Camon, Pour Apprendre l’art de la Guerre (Paris: Berger-Leurault, n.d.), p. 4.
28 Liddell Hart, Why Don’t we Learn from History, pp. 7–8.
29 Napoleon, Correspondance, XV, 107–10; XXI, 378–79.

8

Napoleon thus conceived of history as serving a purpose similar to that of the publications of the Old
Historical Division and its ultimate successor, the Center of Military History. He would have applauded
the appearance of the Guide to the Study and Use of Military History,30 for some way had to be found to
steer the military student through the “veritable labyrinth” of campaign studies, technical treatises, and
memoirs. Like Frederick, who viewed history as “a magazine of military ideas,”31 Napoleon would have
been delighted with the official histories of the campaigns of World War II, Korea, and Vietnam, and with
the extensive monographs on specialized subjects such as mobilization, logistics, and medical services.

On St. Helena Napoleon spoke of the need to publish manuscripts in the Imperial Library as a way of
establishing a solid foundation for historical studies. Probably one of the first proposals of its kind, it
anticipated by half a century the decision of the US War Department to publish in 128 meaty volumes The
Official Records of the Union and Confederate Armies, a unique compilation of the after-action reports
and official correspondence of Union and Confederate leaders. Napoleon also gave the first impetus to
official military history when he created a historical section of the General Staff and named Baron Jomini
to head it.32

His most enduring suggestion, however, was the deathbed advice he offered to his son: “Let him read
and meditate upon the wars of the great captains: it is the only way to learn the art of war.”33

Because Napoleon occasionally mentioned certain “principles of the art of war,” he is often thought
to have meant that the study of the Great Captains is valuable because it leads to the discovery of
enduring principles or illustrates their successful application in the hands of genius. While acknowledging
that these Great Captains had “succeeded only by conforming to the principles” and thus had made war “a
true science,” Napoleon offered more compelling reasons for studying the campaigns of Alexander,
Hannibal, Caesar, Gustavus Adolphus, Turenne, and Frederick:

Tactics, the evolutions, the science of the engineer and the artillerist can be learned in
treatises much like geometry, but the knowledge of the higher spheres of war is only
acquired through the study of the wars and battles of the Great Captains and by
experience. It has no precise, fixed rules. Everything depends on the character that nature
has given to the general, on his qualities, on his faults, on the nature of the troops, on the
range of weapons, on the season and on a thousand circumstances which are never the
same.

The Great Captains must therefore serve as “our great models.” Only by imitating them, by
understanding the bases for their decisions, and by studying the reasons for their success could modern
officers “hope to approach them.”34

Napoleon agreed with Frederick, who considered history “the school of princes”princes, that is,
who are destined to command armiesand who wrote his own candid memoirs in order that his
successors might know “the true situation of affairs …the reasons that impelled me to act; what were my
means, what the snares of our enemies” so that they might benefit from his own mistakes “in order to
shun them.” And both would have endorsed Liddell Hart’s observation that “history is a catalogue of
mistakes. It is our duty to profit by them.”35

30 John E. Jessup, Jr., and Robert W. Coakley, eds., A Guide to the Study and Use of Military History (Washington: US Army, Center of Military
History, 1979).

31 Frederick, The History of the Seven Years War (2 vols.; London: G. G. J. and J. Robinson, 1789), I, xii.
32 Rose, p. 244; S. J. Watson, By Command of the Emperor: A Life of Marshal Berthier (London: The Bodley Head, 1957), p. 185. Napoleon may

in fact have been the first to distort the official history of a campaign by applying pressure on the historian to twist his narrative to suit his own
ends. See General Camon, Genie et Metier chez Napoleon (Paris: Berger-Leurault, 1930), pp. 33–34 passim.

33 Herold, pp. 255–56.
34 Napoleon, Correspondance, XXXI, 365.

9

Whereas Jomini concentrated upon maxims, Frederick and Napoleon focused their attention on men.
They stressed the need for a commander to view a military situation from the vantage point of his
opponent, and for the military student to become privy to the thinking process of successful commanders.
This was the advice Prince Eugene, Marlborough’s sidekick and the greatest commander who ever served
the Hapsburgs, gave to young Frederick when, as the heir to the Prussian throne, Frederick accompanied
the Prussian contingent serving with the Imperial Army along the Rhine in 1734. After he had become the
foremost general of his day, Frederick urged his own officers, when studying the campaigns of Prince
Eugene, not to be content merely to memorize the details of his exploits but “to examine thoroughly his
overall views and particularly to learn how to think the same way.”36

This is still the best way to make military history practicable. “The purpose of history,” Patton wrote
shortly before his death,

is to learn how human beings react when exposed to the danger of wounds or death, and
how high ranking individuals react when submitted to the onerous responsibility of
conducting war or the preparations for war. The acquisition of knowledge concerning the
dates or places on which certain events transpired is immaterial….37

The future field marshal Earl Wavell gave similar advice to a class at the British Staff College shortly
before World War II:

The real way to get value out of the study of military history is to take particular
situations, and as far as possible get inside the skin of the man who made a decision and
then see in what way you could have improved upon it.

“For heaven’s sake,” Wavell warned,

don’t treat the so-called principles of war as holy writ, like the Ten Commandments, to
be learned by heart, and as having by their repetition some magic, like the incantations of
savage priests. They are merely a set of common sense maxims, like ‘cut your coat
according to your cloth,’ ‘a rolling stone gathers no moss,’ ‘honesty is the best policy,’
and so forth.

Merely to memorize the maxim “cut your coat according to your cloth” does not instruct one how to be a
tailor, and Wavell reminded his listeners that no two theorists espoused exactly the same set of principles,
which, he contended, “are all simply common sense and … instinctive to the properly trained soldier.”

To learn that Napoleon in 1796 with 20,000 men beat combined forces of 30,000 by
something called ‘economy of force’ or ‘operating on interior lines’ is a mere waste of
time. If you can understand how a young, unknown man inspired a half-starved, ragged,
rather Bolshie crowd; how he filled their bellies, how he out-marched, out-witted, out-
bluffed, and defeated men who had studied war all their lives and waged it according to
the text books of the time, you will have learnt something worth knowing.

But the soldier will not learn it from military texts.38

35 Frederick, The History of My Own Times (London: G. G. J. and J. Robinson, 1789), ix; Liddell Hart, Thoughts on War (London: Faber and
Faber, 1944), p. 138.

36 Frederick the Great on the Art of War, p. 50. Italics added.
37 Blumenson, II, 750.
38 As quoted in John Connell, Wavell: Scholar and Soldier (2 vols.; London: Collins, 1964), I, 161.

10

Sometimes military history is treated, in books and lectures alike, as though it exists primarily for the
future field commander. Frederick might have assumed something of the sort in his own writings, but he
wrote more about such practical subjects as feeding and drilling an army, the gathering and evaluation of
intelligence, and how to treat friendly and hostile populations than he did about strategy. Likewise,
Napoleon was concerned about military education at every level, and his advice to his son on studying the
decisions of the Great Captains should not obscure the fact that he believed strongly in military history in
his officers’ schools and also as a practical subject for research.

History can be made practicable at any level. The future field marshal Erwin Rommel did not have
future corps commanders necessarily in mind when he wrote Infantry Attacks in 1937. His lessons,
deduced from the experiences of his battalion in World War I, could indeed have been of value to any
company or field grade officer. For example, describing the events he witnessed in September 1914,
Rommel concluded:

War makes extremely heavy demands on the soldier’s strength and nerves. For this
reason make heavy demands on your men in peacetime exercises.

It is difficult to maintain contact in fog…. Advances through fog by means of a compass
must be practiced, since smoke will frequently be employed. In a meeting engagement in
the fog, the side capable of developing a maximum fire power on contact will get the
upper hand; therefore, keep the machine guns ready for action at all times during the
advance.

All units of the group must provide for their own security. This is especially true in close
terrain and when faced with a highly mobile enemy.

Too much spade work is better than too little. Sweat saves blood.

Command posts must be dispersed…. Do not choose a conspicuous hill for their location.

In forest fighting, the personal example of the commander is effective only on those
troops in his immediate vicinity.

The rain favored the attack.39

Rommel drew his own conclusions from his experiences, but a discriminating reader could probably have
extracted them for himself.

These observations were not lost on Patton, who probably shared similar experiences and had been
involved in training troops. During the Saar campaign in early 1945, Patton confided to his diary:

Woke up at 0300 and it was raining like hell. I actually got nervous and got up and read
Rommel’s book, Infantry Attacks. It was most helpful, as he described all the rains he had
in September 1914 and also the fact that, in spite of the heavy rains, the Germans got
along.40

And so, shortly, did the Third Army.

39 Field Marshal Erwin Rommel, Attacks (Vienna, Va.: Athena Press, 1979), pp. 16–60 passim.
40 Blumenson, II, 571. Italics added.

11

Another book of this genre is Infantry in Battle, which was prepared at the Infantry School in 1934
under the direction of then Colonel George C. Marshall and revised four years later. Written on the
assumption that “combat situations cannot be solved by rule,” contributors to this book fell back upon
numerous examples from World War I to introduce the reader to “the realities of war and the extremely
difficult and highly disconcerting conditions under which tactical problems must be solved in the face of
the enemy.”41

Military history has also been used to test the ability of military students. In 1891 a British colonel
published a tactical study of the battle of Spicheren, fought 20 years earlier. In the introduction he
explained:

To gain from a relation of events the same abiding impressions as were stamped on the
minds of those who played a part in themand it is such impressions that create
instinctit is necessary to examine the situations developed during the operations so
closely as to have a clear picture of the whole scene in our mind’s eye; to assume, in
imagination, the responsibilities of the leaders who were called upon to meet those
situations; to come to a definite decision and to test the soundness of that decision by the
actual event.42

LEARNING FROM HISTORY

What Frederick, Napoleon, Rommel, Patton, Wavell, and many others referred to here have shared in
common can be summed in one word: reading. An English general in the 18th century urged young
officers to devote every spare minute to reading military history, “the most instructive of all reading.”43

“Books!” an anonymous old soldier during the Napoleonic wars pretended to snort. “And what are
they but the dreams of pedants? They may make a Mack, but have they ever made a Xenophon, a Caesar,
a Saxe, a Frederick, or a Bonapart [sic]? Who would not laugh to hear the cobbler of Athens lecturing
Hannibal on the art of war?”

“True,” is his own rejoinder, “but as you are not Hannibal, listen to the cobbler.”44

Since the great majority of today’s officers are college graduates, with a healthy percentage of them
having studied for advanced degrees, they have probably long since passed the stage at which they can
actually benefit from a conventional lecture on history, with the emphasis on factual content and the
expectation of a clear conclusion. The leading question therefore becomes: How do we teach them to
learn from history? J. F. C. Fuller, coauthor of the concept that later became known as blitzkrieg, had this
problem in mind when he addressed a class at the British Staff College a few years after World War I.
“Until you learn how to teach yourselves,” he told the students, “you will never be taught by others.”45

Fuller did not specify how this was to be accomplished, but he probably would insist that to teach the
officer how to teach himself should be the avowed objective of every course in military history. Certainly
he would agree that no course in military history can really do much good if the officer is exposed every
half dozen years throughout his career to no more than a structured course of only a few months’
duration, especially if in the process he has gained little understanding of history as a discipline or a scant

41 US Army, Infantry in Battle (Washington: US Army, 1939), introduction.
42 G. F. R. Henderson, The Battle of Spicheren……, 2d ed. (London: Gale & Polden, 1909), pp. vi–vii.
43 A Series of Letters recently written by a General Officer to his Son, on his entering the Army …, 1st American ed. (Salem: Cushing and

Appleton, n.d.), I, v.
44 Hints to Young Generals, by an old soldier (John Armstrong) (Kingston: J. Buel, 1812), pp. 7–8.
45 J. F. C. Fuller, Memoirs of an Unconventional Soldier (London: Ivor Nicholson and Watson, 1936), pp. 417–18.

12

appreciation for how it can be used and abused. Assuredly such a voracious reader as Fullerwho at age
83 confessed to having recently sold off all of the books in his library that he could not read within the
next 10 yearswould argue that there would be no point to any history course whatever if the student is
not stimulated to spend some time afterwards poking around the field a bit on his own. “Books,” Fuller
once wrote, “have always been my truest companions.”46

Any student of history must learn to identify with the men and events he reads about, seeking above
all to understand their problems and to accept the past on its own terms. The student must also learn to
ask questions, not of the instructor necessarily, but of his material and especially of himself. Historians
usually worry more about asking the right questions than finding definitive answers, for they know from
experience that no document or book can answer a question that is never asked. Had Patton read
Rommel’s book when the sun was shining, for example, and all was going well, chances are he would
never have paid any attention to the casual observation that rain seemed to favor the attack. Cannae was
an important battle to Schlieffen because the double envelopment achieved by Hannibal suggested a
method by which a battle of annihilation might be fought in a war against France and Russia. But to
Colonel Ardant du Picq, the foremost French military theorist of the 1860s, Hannibal was a great general
for a quite different reason—“his admirable comprehension of the morale of combat, of the morale of the
soldier.”47 The two men were searching for solutions to different kinds of problems, and in reading about
Cannae each responded to his individual interests.

In the old Army, when there was enough leisure time for reading, riding, or a regular game of golf, it
was probably understood that the burden of learning from military history must rest primarily upon the
individual officer. The annual historical ride to the Civil War battlefieldswhich had been preserved by
Act of Congress “for historical and professional military study”48directly involved students from the
Army War College in the unending dialogue between past and present. Students were frequently asked on
location how they would have handled some problem in tactics or command and control that had
confronted a commander during battle. “It is not desirable to have the question answered,” the
instructions specified. “Some will know the answer, but all who do not will ask themselves the
question.”49

This is the only way to learn from history. The textbook or the instructor can organize information,
but only the student can put it to work. “Mere swallowing of either food or opinions,” Fuller reminds us,
“does not of necessity carry with it digestion, and without digestion swallowing is but labour lost and
food wasted.”50

Today there is a shortage of both “labour and food,” as other budgetary priorities and manpower
shortages have forced severe cutbacks in history courses throughout the Army.

But in a sense this blinds us to the real problem, for it does not necessarily follow that more money
and instructors must be the solution. A formal course in military history, however desirable, is not the
only way and may, in fact, not be the best way to teach students how to teach themselves history, which is
the goal. George C. Marshall, as future Chief of Staff, regarded his two years at the Army Staff College in
1906–08 as having been “immensely instructive,” but not because of the quality of the courses there. “The
association with the officers, the reading we did and the discussion … had a tremendous effect…. I

46 J. F. C. Fuller, The Last of the Gentelmen’s Wars… …(London: Faber and Faber, 1937), p. 112. In 1961 Fuller told the writer that he was
unloading the books he could not hope to read during the next 10 years.

47 Ardant du Picq, Battle Studies: Ancient and Modern Battle (Harrisburg: Military Service Publishing Co., 1947), p. 68.
48 Ronald F. Lee, The Origin and Evolution of the National Military Park Idea (Washington: Office of Park Historic Preservation, 1973), pp. 33–

35.
49 US Army War College, “Memorandum: Instructions for students designated to present on Historical Ride,” Fort Humphreys, D.C., 4 May

1937.
50 Fuller, Memoirs of an Unconventional Soldier, p. 417.

13

learned little I could use,” Marshall wrote, but “I learned how to learn…. My habits of thought were being
trained.”51

Marshall’s words touch upon the essence of practicability. Military history may be of indeterminate
value for the immediate future (if World War III were to be fought next week, for example), but among
the captains in the career courses today are the Army’s top administrators and leaders of tomorrow, and
not all graduates of the war colleges in June will retire in the next six or eight years. Those that remain are
bound to benefit from anything that can heighten their understanding of society, of other armies, of the
political process, of leadership, of the nature of war, of the evolution of doctrine, and of a dozen similar
areas of human activity in which history, pursued by an intelligent and inquisitive reader, can still be
strikingly practicable to the modern soldier.

To any set of military maxims, whatever their origin, perhaps the following literary maxims should be
added:52

The history that lies inert in unread books does no work in the world.

If you want a new idea, read an old book.

‘Tis the good reader that makes the good book.

A book is like a mirror. If an ass looks in, no prophet can peer out.

51 Quoted in Forrest C. Pogue, George C. Marshall: Ordeal and Hope 1939–1942 (New York: Viking Press, 1966), p. 101.
52 The “maxims” quoted come from Clark Becker, Lort Lytton, Ralph Waldo Emerson, and Georg Lichtenberg.

14

Military History: Is It Still Practicable?
• Facts in History
• Making History Instructive
• Learning From History

Annex A

Concise Style Guide

This guide addresses common errors in citing references, use of quotations, bibliographic entries, and
paraphrasing.

Footnotes or Endnotes

We accept either footnotes or endnotes but not in-text or parenthetical citations. Footnotes and endnotes
are not part of the page-count requirement for the essay. Number footnotes and endnotes sequentially (1,
2, 3, etc.) according to their placement in the essay; do not reuse a footnote or endnote number simply
because it refers to the same source.

Ideas or data forming the core of common knowledge do not require citation. Careful citation of all other
ideas, data, and quotations is especially important when paraphrasing and should protect the writer from
the possibility of plagiarism.

The only acceptable formats of footnotes, endnotes, and bibliographic entries are found in Turabian’s A
Manual for Writers of Research Papers, Theses, and Dissertations (eighth edition). We do not accept
parenthetical documentation inserted into the text of an essay. An example of this unacceptable style
would be “(Gabel, 1992, p. 144.).”

Subsequent References to Previously Cited Material in Footnotes or Endnotes

When citing references previously cited in full in earlier footnotes or endnotes:

Use Ibid. (from ibidem, “in the same place”; always takes a period) when referring to the identical
source and page number as in the previous source (footnote or endnote immediately preceding the
current footnote or endnote). For example:

1. James Willbanks, Abandoning Vietnam: How America Left and South Vietnam Lost Its War
(Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 2004), 46.

2. Ibid.

Use Ibid. and the page number, if only the page number differs from the immediately preceding
reference. For example:

1. James Willbanks, Abandoning Vietnam: How America Left and South Vietnam Lost Its War
(Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 2004), 46.

2. Ibid., 24.

The second, nonconsecutive reference to a work already cited in full requires an abbreviated format:
last name of author, shortened title of book, page number. This makes it easier for the reader to
identify when you are introducing a new source. For example:

2. James Willbanks, Abandoning Vietnam: How America Left and South Vietnam Lost Its War,
(Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 2004), 46.

14. Willbanks, Abandoning Vietnam, 48.

Direct Quotations

Authors should enclose direct quotations of four lines or fewer in quotation marks inside the main text.
See examples in Turabian. Failure to cite a direct quotation is plagiarism. Set quotations of five or more
lines apart from the text by indenting and single-spacing them without quotation marks. The superscript
footnote or endnote number usually appears at the end of such indented text.

Bibliography

A bibliography is required only if sources other than course materials are used. The bibliography should
follow the endnotes (if used), or the last page of text if footnotes are used. Arrange bibliography
alphabetically (last name first) and group according to type of source (books, Internet, periodicals, etc.).
Use the style in Turabian, Prentice-Hall (also refer to The Gregg Reference Manual), and ST 22-2.

Internet and Electronic Sources

Citation of Internet and electronic sources remains in transition. The principal rule is that the source must
be traceable, so that the reader can locate that source. If you are in doubt as to the site’s stability or
longevity, download and print the file. If you have any questions, consult your instructor for detailed
guidance. Commonly cited information includes the source of the site (generally an organization or
individual), title, date website last revised, web address, and date accessed. (See examples below for
format.) Researchers beware. While information found in books and scholarly journals is routinely
subject to scholarly review, the same level of fact checking and evaluation may be lacking for information
and articles on the Internet. For that reason, please do not use Wikipedia or similar uncontrolled
sources for information.

EXAMPLE BIBLIOGRAPHY AND NOTE FORMAT

The following examples illustrate the appropriate documentation for works commonly cited by US Army
Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC) students and not addressed specifically in the
above references. These are the accepted formats for such entries. Otherwise, use the examples in
Turabian, Prentice-Hall (also refer to The Gregg Reference Manual), and ST 22-2.

1. Field Manual

Bibliography:
US Department of the Army. FM 25-100, Training the Force. Washington, DC: Government Printing

Office. November 1988.

Note:
1. US Department of the Army, FM 25-100, Training the Force (Washington, DC: Government

Printing Office, November 1988), 121.

2. Book of Readings

Bibliography:
Clausewitz, Carl von. “What is War?” On War. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1976, 75–

89. Excerpt reprinted in US Army Command and General Staff College, H100 Syllabus and Book
of Readings, 50–61. Fort Leavenworth, KS: USACGSC, July 1992.

Note:
1. Carl von Clausewitz, “What is War?” On War (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press,

1976), 75–89; excerpt reprinted in US Army Command and General Staff College, H100 Syllabus
and Book of Readings (Fort Leavenworth, KS: USACGSC, July 1992), 55.

[List author by first name first in the note and last name first in the alphabetical bibliography.]

Bibliography:
Howard, Michael. “Military Science in an Age of Peace.” RUSI, Journal of the Royal United Services

Institute for Defence Studies 119 (March 1974): 3–9. Reprinted in US Army Command and
General Staff College, H100 Syllabus and Book of Readings, 205–11. Fort Leavenworth, KS:
USACGSC, July 1992.

Note:
1. Michael Howard, “Military Science in an Age of Peace,” RUSI, Journal of the Royal United

Services Institute for Defence Studies 119 (March 1974); reprinted in US Army Command and
General Staff College, H100 Syllabus and Book of Readings (Fort Leavenworth, KS: USACGSC,
July 1992), 210.

3. Books

Research may require the use of individual pages and/or chapters within a book written by different
authors and edited by someone other than the author. The following example is a chapter from a book
used throughout the course:

Bibliography:
Herwig, Holger H. “Innovation Ignored: The Submarine Problem—Germany, Britain, and the United

States, 1919–1939.” In Military Innovation in the Interwar Period, edited by Williamson Murray
and Allan R. Millett, 227–64. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, 1996.

Note:
1. Holger H. Herwig, “Innovation Ignored: The Submarine Problem—Germany, Britain, and the

United States, 1919–1939,” in Military Innovation in the Interwar Period, ed. Williamson Murray
and Allan R. Millett (Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, 1996), 229.

4. Journal Articles

Following is an example using a common source (Military Review) of research topics and
information.

Bibliography:
Karcher, Timothy M. “The Victory Disease.” Military Review 83 (July–August 2003): 9–17.

Note:
2. Timothy M. Karcher, “The Victory Disease,” Military Review 83 (July–August 2003): 11.

5. Leavenworth Papers

Following is an example using a common source from the Leavenworth Papers series of professional
writings.

Bibliography:
Doughty, Robert A. The Evolution of US Army Tactical Doctrine, 1946–76. Leavenworth Papers No.

1. Fort Leavenworth, KS: Combat Studies Institute, 1979. (Reprinted 2001)

Note:
3. Robert A. Doughty, The Evolution of US Army Tactical Doctrine, 1946–76, Leavenworth

Papers No. 1 (Fort Leavenworth, KS: Combat Studies Institute, 1979, reprinted 2001), 28.

6. Electronic and Web-based Sources

Bibliography:
US Department of the Army, Center For Army Lessons Learned. Urban Combat Operations—

References. Fort Leavenworth, KS: Center for Army Lessons Learned, 2002. CD ROM; available
from CALL.

Note:
4. Department of the Army, Center For Army Lessons Learned. Urban Combat Operations—

References (Fort Leavenworth, KS: Center for Army Lessons Learned, 2002) [CD ROM]; available
from CALL.

Bibliography:
Royal Air Force. The Battle of Britain History Site. The Battle of Britain—Commanders. Delta Web

International, 2000, accessed [date], http://www.raf.mod.uk/history/thebattleofbritain.cfm.

Note:
5. Royal Air Force. The Battle of Britain History Site. The Battle of Britain— Commanders

(Delta Web International, 2000), accessed [date],
http://www.raf.mod.uk/history/thebattleofbritain.cfm.

Bibliography:
Paret, Peter, ed. Makers of Modern Strategy: from Machiavelli to the Nuclear Age. Princeton, NJ:

Princeton University Press, 1986. Kindle edition, 2007.

http://www.raf.mod.uk/history/thebattleofbritain.cfm

http://www.raf.mod.uk/history/thebattleofbritain.cfm

H100 Annex A-487

Note:
6. Felix Gilbert, “Machiavelli: The Renaissance of the Art of War.” In Makers of Modern

Strategy: from Machiavelli to the Nuclear Age. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1986, chap.
1. Kindle edition, 2007.

• Concise DMH Style Guide

References
Footnotes or Endnotes
Direct Quotations
Bibliography
Internet and Electronic Sources

Luvaas,Jay. “

Frederick the Great:

The Education of a Great Captain

.” In The John Biggs Cincinnati Lectures in Military Leadership and
Command 1986. Edited by Henry S. Bausum, 23–37. Lexington, VA: The VMI Foundation, 1986. Reprinted with permission of the Society
for Military History. CGSC Copyright Registration #18-0238 E

Frederick the Great:
The Education of a Great Captain

by Jay Luvaas

In mid-December 1740, King Frederick II of Prussia crossed the frontier into the Austrian province
of Silesia at the head of nearly thirty thousand troops, “with colours flying, and drums beating.” “My
troops are in good spirits,” he wrote that same day,

the officers full of ambition, and the generals thirsting for fame; I will perish or gain
glory from this enterprise. . . . I shall not return to Berlin without having shown myself
worthy of the race . . . and of the brave soldiers whom I lead.1

Frederick was then twenty-eight years of age; he had been king a scant six months; never before had he
commanded troops in war, and—except for the contingent of ten thousand men sent to the Imperial Army
commanded by Prince Eugene in the lackluster campaign of 1735–36—it had been a quarter of a century
since Prussian soldiers had marched into battle.

Five years later Frederick emerged from the Silesian Wars with a string of stunning military victories
to his credit and all of his war aims achieved. Henceforth he was to be known as Frederick the Great.

How did this young and relatively inexperienced king outmarch, outfight, outmaneuver, and outwit
veteran generals? Aside from any inherent moral qualities essential to success in war—and Clausewitz
specifies boldness, perseverance, physical and moral courage, and determination2—what military
education and limited experience in his formative years prepared Frederick to command successfully in
the field?

Frederick was born to be a soldier. At least he was born a prince, and family tradition, Prussian state
interests, and the lifestyle of the king would permit no other course. “For God’s sake . . . keep up the army
. . . and make it more formidable,” Frederick William I had warned the young prince when he was but
nine years old, and from the first Frederick’s education was basically a military one. Old Frederick
William specified that his son should be taught to be an officer and a general: mathematics thus became
the study of fortifications, rhetoric was the ability to express himself clearly before his army; he was to
live simply and frugally. The king believed that Frederick’s mind could be maneuvered like a regiment,
and he chose as tutors for the crown prince men who had distinguished themselves as soldiers.

We need not recount in any detail the measures taken to prepare young Fritz for his destined role. The
story of his unhappy youth is a familiar one and is featured in every biography—how his coarse,
ill-tempered father needlessly tormented, disciplined, and humiliated him, denying him even the
enjoyment of music and books, and especially of anything that smacked of French culture; how Frederick

at age eighteen attempted to flee his country (and his responsibilities) only to be apprehended,
imprisoned, and forced one terrible day to witness the beheading of his closest friend for his part in the
desperate venture; and finally, how Frederick eventually submitted—outwardly at least—to his father’s
will and seriously attempted to become a good administrator and soldier, if not a good Christian in the
Calvinist sense of the term. We are concerned here with the military education of the prince as well as the
psychological effects on his youth as they relate to his fitness for command. For as Frederick himself has
stated, “impressions which one receives in childhood cannot be erased from the soul.”3

When he was six years of age, Frederick was given a company of cadets—all six-year-olds—and a
seventeen-year-old drill master to learn military exercises. In two years young Frederick had progressed
to the point where he himself could put the other boys through their paces. When King George I of
England paid a royal visit to Berlin in 1723, he was treated to the spectacle of Frederick, dressed in a
miniature Prussian uniform, drilling his cadet company with “clear voice, military sharpness, and the
precision of clock work.”4 For his ninth birthday, the king gave his son a little arsenal, where under the
supervision of still another veteran soldier be could bang away with some small brass guns. Young
Frederick was also dragged along on his father’s hunting expeditions and the annual military reviews, and
he spent each day following a strict military routine. His tutors were all veteran soldiers who had
distinguished themselves during the War of the Spanish Succession: obviously their purpose was to serve
as role models, seeing to it that the young prince would develop an acceptable degree of manliness and, to
quote from their instructions, “a true love for the soldier business.”5

The formal side of Frederick’s education was entrusted to still another soldier, the son of a French
refugee who had caught the king’s eye for bravery under fire at the siege of Stralsund. “It is rare that one
takes a tutor from a trench,” Frederick once commented; it was rarer still that one would have found a
man of Duhan’s enlightened outlook and accomplishments in the Prussian officer corps of that day, for
Duhan, not content to force his pupil to learn by rote certain works as a means of training his memory,
undertook to cultivate Frederick’s ability to reason.

At the age of fourteen Frederick became a captain and soon afterwards a major in the Potsdam
Grenadier Guards, known to history as the famous “Regiment of Giants.” No longer was he drilling little
boys; now when he led his battalion to the muster he commanded the tallest and most magnificent
soldiers that his father could recruit or kidnap anywhere in Europe. But by this time Frederick was in
revolt: he much preferred the company of “men who knew something” in the field of music and
philosophy to the coarse officers he was forced to associate with at Potsdam. He also had set aside his
miniature military drum for the flute. As the Austrian ambassador reported to his government in 1725, the
desire of the king to induce Frederick “to prefer military science to all other knowledge, to learn frugality
and self-denial” was “contrary to the inclinations of the crown prince” and would in time “have precisely
a contrary effect.”6

The king’s solution was about what one would expect of a drill sergeant. He fired Duhan, Frederick’s
favorite tutor, and replaced him with a one-legged veteran of Marlborough’s campaigns who could be
depended upon to pay stricter attention to the prince’s military education, and he appointed four other
officers to keep constant tab on Frederick and report any excess or irregularity. The king never hesitated
to beat his son, by this time a colonel, in front of other officers, and in desperation Frederick attempted to
escape in 1730 by fleeing to England. He was caught, court martialed for desertion, and imprisoned at the
fortress of Custrin for three months. For a while it even appeared that Frederick’s life hung in the balance.

It was a different Frederick who emerged from prison, after taking an oath to obey his father’s orders.
For the next fifteen months he was confined to the town of Custrin where, as an auditor in the Chamber of
War and Administration, he became familiar with the administrative details of Prussian finance and
commerce. Once the king was convinced that Frederick’s conversion was genuine, he allowed him to

wear his uniform once again. Eventually he restored Frederick’s rank and gave him command of an
infantry regiment.

Frederick worked diligently at his new duties. “I have just drilled, I drill, I shall drill,” he conjugated
in one letter, adding however that “I would rather drill here from dawn to dusk than live as a rich man at
Berlin.” (What he may have been saying is that he preferred the drill ground to living with the
unattractive wife he had married to please his father!) Frederick mastered the drill regulations, introduced
the latest improvements from the parade ground at Potsdam, and when the king reviewed the regiment he
found it in first-rate shape. He rewarded Frederick in 1734 by promoting him to the rank of major general.
Clearly Frederick had mastered the details of military drill, discipline, and administration. This did not,
however, complete his military education, for as Frederick observed years later, peace was an exercise
whereas “war must be a study.” Mere routine causes many soldiers to be preoccupied “with trifling
matters and rusted by gross ignorance.”

Instead of soaring audaciously among the clouds, such men know only how to crawl
methodically in the mire. They are never perplexed and will never know the causes of
their triumphs or defeats.7

Frederick’s first chance to soar came in 1734, when he accompanied the Prussian troops sent to
reinforce the Imperial Army, under Prince Eugene of Savoy, during the War of the Polish Succession. It
was not much of a war and Frederick saw no fighting, but he did become acquainted with the details of
siege warfare and he learned a great deal about the practical problems of maintaining an army in the field.
He saw troops building fascines, throwing up redoubts, and guarding outposts. He conversed daily with
the commander of the Prussian contingent and was privy to all of his decisions and problems. He
probably gained some appreciation for the unforeseen difficulties in logistics and, with an eye on the
future, he doubtless made mental notes of the deficiencies of the Austrian army. In this sense, at least, the
Rhineland campaign was indeed “a school where profit may be reaped.”8

But mostly he learned from his frequent conversations with Prince Eugene, a veteran of thirty-one
campaigns and the most celebrated commander of his day. Frederick was delighted to have this
opportunity to learn about the business of war while he was still young enough “to become a military
student.” He was twenty-one; at thirty, he feared,

one no longer has the disposition for learning, and such a business as that of war deserves
something better than the application of old age. The soldier must be reared and
nourished, and practical experience, premature rather than late, should be his teacher.9

Although old and somewhat feeble, and aware always of the advantage in cultivating a prince who stood
near to the throne, Prince Eugene shared his political and military views with the eager young apprentice.
He urged Frederick to study the history of earlier campaigns and to try always to place himself in his
opponent’s shoes. Later, when advising his own officers to study Prince Eugene’s campaigns, Frederick
told them:

Whoever reads the campaigns of Prince Eugene must not limit himself to memorizing his
military exploits. He must work hard mainly to examine thoroughly his overall views and
particularly to learn how to think in the same way.10

Frederick returned from the Rhine campaign determined to increase his army once he became king.11

Probably the most important part of Frederick’s military education before 1740 came from books.
While works on military history and the art of war did not occupy a prominent position either on his

library shelves or in his reading habits, Frederick did become acquainted with many of the basic treaties
in the field during his years of apprenticeship. His military library was not extensive—of 3,775 volumes
that he owned in 1730, only 60 titles belonged to the military section—but it contained the basic sources
which were more than enough to familiarize him with the duties of the military profession. He owned
several works on the administrative and tactical duties of a commander, including Captain de la Mont, Les
functions de tous les officers de l’infanterie depuis celle du Sergent jusques à celle du Colonel (Paris,
1669). Quite possibly the views Frederick expressed in later years on the need for better military
education were influenced by de la Mont, who had been among the first to show interest in determining
the principles of war and who recommended examinations for young military cadets and the
establishment of tactical schools for officers.12

Frederick’s knowledge of fortification and siegecraft, which in the eighteenth century dominated the
conduct of military operations, came principally from the works of de Coehorn and Vauban, and the
Prince of Anhalt wrote, especially for the instruction of the future king, an account of the siege of
Stralsund which provided “a detailed description of the manner in which a town should be besieged.”13
Frederick possessed and presumably read Blondel’s L’art de jeter les bombes (Amsterdam, 1699), and he
obviously read his copy of the Marquis de Quincy, Histoire militaire du regne de Louis le Grand (Paris,
1726), since the wars of Louis XIV contained the most instructive examples of the military art. He later
translated relevant portions of this work into German and distributed them among his officers. In his
introduction to the extracts from de Quincy, Frederick made an effective case for military education.

Every art has its rules and maxims. One must study them: theory facilitates practice. The
lifetime of one man is not long enough to enable him to acquire perfect knowledge and
experience. Theory helps to supplement it, it provides a youth with premature experience
and makes him skillful also through the mistakes of others. In the profession of war the
rules of the art never are violated without drawing punishment from the enemy. . . . An
officer can spare himself many mistakes by improving himself.14

Frederick also made a careful study of the military operations of Luxembourg and Turenne. He
had a high opinion of Deschamps’s Mémoires de deux dernières campagnes de . . . Turennne en
Allemagne (Paris, 1678) and the Marquis de Santa Cruz’s Réflexions militaires et politiques, which
was translated from Spanish into French in 1735, although whether he had in fact read these particular
works before becoming king is not known. The latter especially was intended for the budding general
rather than the young officer, and, according to Frederick, its value was not so much that the
campaigns described served as models but because they were treated in sufficient detail to enable the
reader to detect the reasons for success and failure. Well over a century before Bismarck insisted that
while fools learn by experience, he preferred to learn from the experience of others, Frederick was
pointing out that “the mistakes of others enable us to acquire experience at their expense.”15

One work in particular influenced Frederick’s military thought as he was about to end his
apprenticeship. In 1731 a new edition of the Marquis de Feuquières’s Mémoires sur la Guerre was
published. The son of a distinguished French general during the Thirty Years’ War, Feuquières had
served under Turenne, Catinat and his kinsman Luxembourg, during the course of an eventful military
career that ended in 1687. When the War of the Spanish Succession broke out he had fallen from favor
because of his criticisms of another French marshal, and he busied himself for the rest of his life
preparing his memoirs, ostensibly for the instruction of his son but in reality to expose his opponents to
scathing criticism.16 Given Frederick’s conviction that history could teach much “through the mistakes of
others” and Feuquières’s delight in exposing errors of former comrades in arms, it is scarcely surprising
that this work would have had “a marked and permanent effect upon Frederick.” When he became king he
ordered that selections from Feuquières’s Mémoires be read to military cadets at mealtime, and during the

first Silesian war he bought up as many copies as he could find to distribute among the regiments with
instructions to read the book “with diligence and meditation.”17

That harsh critic, the judicious Feuquières, has related minutely all the mistakes that
generals committed in his day. He has . . . developed the anatomy of campaigns that he
witnessed by showing the causes of success and the reasons for failure. He has indicated
the road that must be followed if one desires to instruct himself, and by which researches
the first truths, which are the basis of the art, are discovered.18

Even a casual reading of Feuquières’s Mémoires suggests why Frederick considered him “the
preceptor of generals”: it must have been even more fruitful than conversations with Prince Eugene.
Feuquières explored the secrets of generalship and the guiding military maxims of the day. He offered
detailed commentary on military organization and the composition of armies, on the functions of
command and the duties of every officer in the chain of command, on problems involved in formulating
war plans, assembling and feeding of armies, and arranging for the different marches, encampments, and
convoys. In brief, an officer like Frederick, who had never commanded a unit larger than a battalion and
had scarcely been exposed to war, could learn from Feuquières much that he needed to know in order to
prepare his army intelligently to take the field.

Many books contained this kind of information; what made Feuquières especially valuable was the
wealth of experience that he brought to his discussion of war plans, offensive and defensive warfare,
battles and encounters (it was considered a “battle” only when armies fought facing each other in regular
array). Feuquières reflected on the need for secrecy and the kinds of knowledge that a general must have
of the theater of war. He believed in the offensive as the strongest form of war and the easiest to be
sustained. On the other hand, he impressed upon the reader the need to avoid any offensive war which, for
lack of any decisive maneuver or battle, would lead to a war between equal powers and thus drag on
inconclusively. The king, therefore, should neglect no opportunity to press for a favorable peace once his
army had made initial conquests, and the field commander should never hesitate to bring on battle “if the
enemy by some movement to put his forces together, places himself within range of risking an issue.” “A
battle at the beginning of the war . . . nearly always decides its success.”19

Feuquières, however, did not necessarily believe that battles decide everything. Quite the contrary: “It
is very dangerous to precipitate an action,” he warned, “when a little patience would create a reasonable
hope of changing the form of war to advantage,”20 One can appreciate the impact that Feuquières’s
treatment of the campaigns and battles from 1672 to 1709 must have had upon Frederick, convinced as he
was that the best way to master the art of war was to study the mistakes of others. Feuquières had
considered Turenne’s encounters at Mulhausen and Colmar as “great examples” to be studied and
emulated. The military reader

will discover . . . every circumstance which a great captain can possibly conceive . . .
when he has reflected on the present and future state of the war confided to his conduct;
he will observe every skilful particular which can be concerted by the finest imagination
to conceal an important design from the enemy; together with each expedient that can
result from judgment and activity for the completion of a plan.

Always, Feuquières insisted, fight the battle of your own choosing; never permit the enemy to force battle
upon you. He explained in detail the thought process of a general before, during, and after battle, pointed
to the practical alternatives to battle, and the precautions that must be observed if the commander wishes
to deviate from normal practice “with safety.” In the final analysis, he maintained, “tis the lively Eye of
an able General which frequently decides a particular operation of war by the advantages he obtains from
the enemy.”21 Obviously a serious and intelligent reader such as Frederick could learn much about the

essential characteristics of modern war by a thoughtful reading of Feuquières, whose calm reflections
embraced every aspect of generalship from A (armées) to V (vivres).

We know too that Frederick was on intimate terms with many of the Classics, which had inspired
Machiavelli, the author of the first modern treatise on war, and most military writers in Frederick’s day as
well. Marshal de Puysegur, author of the most recent significant military treatise published before
Frederick launched his invasion of Silesia, claimed that Thucydides’s exposition of Periclean strategy was
“so well and clearly detailed” that the modern general could learn from it how to frame his own plan of
campaign. Indeed, Puysegur could detect no fundamental changes in the science or conduct of war
between the days of Caesar and Turenne, holding that a military man must read the memoirs of both if he
is to be really well versed in the science of war. Even in the realm of tactics, where the introduction of
firearms might be expected to force revolutionary change, the practice of the Romans was still emulated.
The debate in Frederick’s day over the relative merits of the line and the column was triggered by two
works by the Chavalier de Folard, both of them written while Frederick was serving his apprenticeship.
Whether or not Frederick had digested Folard before 1740 is beside the point; the fact is that virtually
every military writer including Frederick believed that the Classics contained lessons that were still
applicable. After the Silesian Wars Frederick prepared a volume of extracts from Folard containing, as he
put it, “the diamonds buried in a dunghill,”22 and in his later campaigns he had among his military retinue
at headquarters a Captain Guichard, author of a well-known book on the warfare of the ancients.

Although a master of detail and familiar with the best in military literature, Frederick was still a
novice when his army invaded Silesia. “It is difficult to say,” he confessed in his memoirs, who
committed “the most faults”—himself, or his opponents.23 Unopposed by an enemy field army in the
initial stages, Frederick plucked a number of fortified cities before the Austrians could send a comparable
force to their relief, but he deserved to lose his first battle. At Mollwitz (April 10, 1741) Frederick came
to appreciate that a lesson learned from history, once removed from its historical context, was really not a
lesson at all. Aware that his cavalry was inferior to the Austrian horse, Frederick placed two grenadier
battalions between the squadrons of each wing. “This was the disposition made by Gustavus Adolphus at
the battle of Lutzen,” he explained in his Mémoires. But the Austrian cavalry was far superior to that
which Gustavus had faced and his own was inferior to the Swedish horse in relative quality, and after the
Prussian cavalry was swept from the field in the first stages of the battle Frederick vowed that this tactic
“will never more be practiced.”24 He was beginning to discover that the value of history was to expose the
reader to the thought processes of earlier commanders, not to provide prepackaged solutions.

Mollwitz offered other lessons. Although things were going well on the Prussian left, there was a
crisis on the right of the line, where the infantry had been engaged for five hours and the soldiers were
running low in ammunition. There was nothing left to do but rob the cartridge boxes of the dead. So great
was the crisis, Frederick wrote,

that the oldest officers thought there was no resource, and foresaw the approaching
moment when this corps, deprived of ammunition, would be obliged to yield to the
enemy. So however did it not happen, and this ought to teach young commanders [among
whom was Frederick] not to despair too soon; for the infantry not only maintained its
ground, but gained upon the enemy.25

Marshal Schwerin, an experienced and resolute commander, then threw the Prussian left against the right
flank of the Austrians, which brought about the enemy’s defeat. Frederick, however, was not present to
witness this unexpected turn of events. When the Prussian cavalry had been swept aside earlier in the
battle, Schwerin had urged the young king to leave the field to avoid being captured and Frederick had
galloped over twenty miles before a tired courier caught up with him to announce that his army had won a
great victory.

Mollwitz was a learning experience for Frederick. As he reflected on his conduct of the battle, he
found fault with many of his decisions. His intelligence before the battle had been good, but instead of
dividing his troops “he ought immediately to have assembled his whole army, and to have placed it in
close cantonments.” He had allowed one subordinate to be cut off “and put himself to the necessity of
fighting in a situation from which, had misfortune come, he could not retreat; and in which he risked the
loss of his army, and being himself taken.” In front of Mollwitz, where the Austrians were cantoned, he
had wasted precious time forming his troops instead of immediately moving forward, when he might have
caught the Austrian infantry in the village “in much the same manner as twenty-four French battalions
were taken at Blenheim.” Frederick, however,

possessed only marshal Schwerin, in his whole army; who was a man of genius, and an
experienced general. His troops had all possible good will, but they were acquainted only
with the inferior parts of war; and having never been in action, they durst only creep,
fearful of being decisive. The real salvation of the Prussians was their bravery and their
discipline. Mollwitz was the school of the king, and of his soldiers: he made profound
reflections on all the faults he had committed, and endeavoured to correct himself in
future.

In this way Frederick learned. In his next battle, Chotusitz, fought a year later, his revamped cavalry
and his own leadership came into their own, and although Frederick gained the victory and with it the
peace, he continued to examine the conduct of the leaders of both armies to identify faults to avoid in the
future.26

Twenty months, a handful of second-class fortresses, two pitched battles—and Frederick had won his
first war. He trained his army well in the interval between the first and second Silesian wars, and in
August 1744 he reentered the war by invading Bohemia in three separate columns, the kind of operation
which later shocked Napoleon because it violated the principle of concentration.27 But after capturing
Prague, Frederick really had no strategic objective in mind, and his next moves were all dictated by
expediency and ultimately by his skillful Austrian opponent.

Frederick recorded his mistakes in his Mémoires with disarming candor in order that his successor
might learn from them. He had lost control of the supply situation; he could never force his wily opponent
to fight except on his own terms; and when his own army staggered out of Bohemia through the mountain
passes into Silesia three months later, he had lost half of his men.

Unlike his previous campaigns, this one had been decisive without fighting a major battle; sickness,
famine, swarms of enemy light infantry, and desertion had defeated him. Frederick thus learned to
distinguish between strategy and a walking tour that happened to end in a few bloody acres at places like
Mollwitz and Chotusitz. Marshal Traun, his evasive opponent, reminded Frederick of Sertorius, the
Roman general who had kept two opponents at bay in Spain in 80–78 B.C. by “appearing almost at the
same moment in a number of different places . . . cutting off their supplies” laying the country waste, and
ultimately forcing them to retreat to other provinces for lack of provisions. Frederick compared himself to
Pompey, the victim of these guerrilla tactics. Traun’s campaign impressed him as “a perfect model, which
every general who delights in his profession ought to study, and, if he has the abilities, to imitate.” As for
his own generalship, Frederick conceded that no one had committed more faults than he during this
campaign. He always regarded the 1744 campaign “as his school in the art of war, and Traun as his
preceptor.” “Good fortune,” Frederick reflected in his Mémoires, “is often more fatal to princes than
adversity: during the former they are intoxicated with presumption, the second renders them circumspect
and modest.”28

If the Bohemian campaign of 1744 was Frederick’s school of war, he passes his final exam with
flying colors at the battles of Hohenfriedberg and Soor the next season. There is no need to refight these
battles here; in both we see Frederick outnumbered, awaiting attack, and at the final moment maneuvering
according to circumstances to win convincing victory. The superior mobility, discipline, and firepower of
the Prussian soldiers enabled him to improvise and throw the weight of his force against a portion—
usually a wing—of the enemy line of battle. The lesson of these battles is the value of an oblique attack.
In the period of linear warfare, when armies faced each other in battlelines three, four, and five miles
long, with active cavalry on the flanks, there was not much that a general could do to maneuver battalions
or brigades. There were no subordinate tactical units, no divisions or corps. Wing commanders were not
independent commanders, but merely the next link in the chain of command. They could see that the
commander’s orders were carried out, but they had practically no discretionary power and no reserves at
their disposal.

But Frederick at Hohenfriedberg, and out of necessity, it should be added, did not attack the entire
Austrian line simultaneously. Instead he threw his weight against the left wing, since this consisted of
inferior Saxon units and posed the most immediate threat. Once he had driven away the Saxons he was
free to bring his troops into battle on the left flank of the Austrian (or right) wing. Clearly the idea of
advancing with one wing and holding back the other is evident at Hohenfriedberg. Whether this was an
accident born of necessity or a preconceived notion we cannot say for certain, but in Frederick’s next
battle, at Soor, he fought the same way, bringing his army in a sort of oblique position against the
Austrian line. Here is the beginning of his famous échelon formation which he would later perfect and
work into his tactical system.

At the heart of Frederick’s military writings (his famous Instructions to his Generals was written in
1747 and revised eight years later) is the concept of attacking an enemy line of battle either in an oblique
direction, bringing an unbroken line against the enemy flank at an angle, or by advancing en échelon to
attack with one wing while retaining the other as reserve to reinforce success or to minimize the effects of
failure. At both Hohenfriedberg and Soor, Frederick managed to overwhelm the enemy line with only a
portion of his own, concentrating his fire power against the weak point in the enemy position. This is
what he later tried to duplicate in nearly every battle.

No general has been more pragmatic than Frederick. He read military history in order to get at the
thought process of successful commanders and to determine reasons for success or failure on the
battlefield. He reformed his army to make it a more supple and devastating tactical weapon. He learned
from his own mistakes and those of his opponents, and when circumstances dictated a new approach he
was quick to appreciate the possibilities of the oblique attack. He recorded these lessons in writings
intended for his successor, his subordinate generals, and frequently to help clarify his own thinking. To
Frederick, war was an endless learning process: all one has to do is to compare Mollwitz and Soor.

Frederick also emerged from the Silesian Wars a resourceful strategist. As king he determined policy;
as the commander in the field he made sure that strategy was an extension of this policy, which gave a
unity and purpose to his military operations despite his initial inexperience. Above all, Frederick never
lost sight of his primary objective, the retention of Silesia. He won every battle he fought in his first two
wars, often because, as Napoleon later pointed out, Frederick possessed great moral courage.

What distinguishes Frederick the most is not the skill of his maneuvers but his boldness.
He carried what I have never dared to attempt. He abandoned his line of operation and
often acted as if he had no knowledge of military art. Always outnumbering his enemies
at the opening of the campaign, he is regularly inferior on the battlefield . . . [but] he
knew well . . . how to keep his army in hand during the battle.

Frederick was especially great “at the most critical moments”—which was the highest praise that
Napoleon could bestow.29 But now we speak of military character, which is more difficult to trace and to
explain than the evolution of an idea or technique.

Notes

1. Leopold Ranke, Memoirs of the House of Brandenburg, and History of Prussia, during the Seventeenth and
Eighteenth Centuries, translated from the German by Sir Alexander and Lady Duff Gordon, 3 vols., reprint ed. (New
York, 1968), 2: 139–40.

2. Carl von Clausewitz, On War, edited and translated by Michael Howard and Peter Paret (Princeton, N.J., 1976),
pp. 101, 190–93.

3. Nathan Ausubel, Superman: The Life of Frederick the Great (London, 1932), p. 1.
4. Thomas Carlyle, History of Friedrich II of Prussia called Frederick the Great, 6 vols. (London, 1886), 1: 342.
5. For details in the military education of Prince Frederick see Ernest Lavisse, The Youth of Frederick the Great,

translated from the French by Mary Bushnell Coleman (Chicago, 1892), pp. 20–33; and Robert Ergang. The
Potsdam Fuhrer: Frederick William I, Father of Prussian Militarism (New York, 1941), pp. 216–18.

6. Ibid., p. 223.
7. Jay Luvaas, editor and translator, Frederick the Great on the Art of War (New York, 1966), p. 47.
8. Carlyle, Frederick the Great, p. 50.
9. Ausubel, Superman, p. 308.
10. Luvaas, Frederick the Great, p. 50.
11. Ausubel, Superman, p. 315.
12. Ernst Bratuscheck, Die Erziehung Friedrichs des Grossen (Berlin, 1885), p. 120.
13. Carlyle, Frederick the Great, 2: 250; Ranke, House of Brandenburg, 2: 5.
14. Luvaas, Frederick the Great, p. 54–55.
15. Ibid., p. 52.
16. Max Jähns, Geschichte der Kriegswissenschaften vornehmlich in Deutchland. II 17 und 18 Jahrhundert bis

zum Auftreten Friedrichs des Grossen 1740, reprint ed. (New York, 1966), pp. 1467–68.
17. Ibid., p. 1470.
18. Luvaas, Frederick the Great, p. 52.
19. Marquis de Feuquières, Memoirs Historical and Military: Containing a Distinct View of All the Considerable

States of Europe . . . together with remarks on the Conduct and Abilities of their Ministers, Generals . . . and other
Officers, in the Plans and Execution of the several Operations of War wherein they were employed, 2 vols., reprint
ed. (New York, 1968), 1: 97–98, 114, 152, 158, 162–63, 192–93. A subsequent edition contains the most concise
argument for waging offensive war. See Mémoires de M. le Marquis de Feiqioère . . . Contenant ses Maximes sur la
Guerre, et l’application des Exemples aux Maximes (n.p., 1740), pp. 64–68.

20. Feuquières, Memoirs, 2: 132–33.
21. Ibid., p. 27, 123, 249–50.
22. Luvaas, Frederick the Great, p. 51.
23. Frederick, The History of My Own Times, translated from the French by Thomas Holcroft, 2 vols. (London,

1789), 1: 127.
24. Ibid., pp. 121–22.
25. Ibid., p. 126.
26. Ibid., p. 129.
27. Lieutenant Colonel Ernest Picard, Precepts et jugements de Napoleon (Paris, 1913), p. 406.
28. Frederick, History of my Own Times, 2: 130.
29. Picard, Preceptes et jugements de Napoleon, pp. 405–6.

Frederick the Great:
The Education of a Great Captain

Excerpts from

Summary of the Art of War

by Baron de Jomini

Definition of the Art of War.

The art of war, as generally considered, consists of five purely military branches,—viz.: Strategy,
Grand Tactics, Logistics, Engineering, and Tactics. A sixth and essential branch, hitherto unrecognized,
might be termed Diplomacy in its relation to War. Although this branch is more naturally and
intimately connected with the profession of a statesman than with that of a soldier, it cannot be denied
that, if it be useless to a subordinate general, it is indispensable to every general commanding an army:
it enters into all the combinations which may lead to a war, and has a connection with the various
operations to be undertaken in this war; and, in this view, it should have a place in a work like this.

To recapitulate, the art of war consists of six distinct parts:—

1

. Statesmanship in its relation to war.

2

. Strategy, or the art of properly directing masses upon the theater of war, either for defense or for

invasion.

3

. Grand Tactics.

4

. Logistics, or the art of moving armies.

5

. Engineering,—the attack and defense of fortifications.

6

. Minor Tactics.

It is proposed to analyze the principal combinations of the first four branches, omitting the
consideration of tactics and of the art of engineering.

Familiarity with all these parts is not essential in order to be a good infantry, cavalry, or artillery
officer; but for a general, or for a staff officer, this knowledge is indispensable.

CHAPTER I.

Statesmanship in its Relation to War.

Under this head are included those considerations from which a statesman concludes whether a war is
proper, opportune, or indispensable, and determines the various operations necessary to attain the object
of the war.

1

A government goes to war,—

To reclaim certain rights or to defend them;
To protect and maintain the great interests of the state, as commerce, manufactures, or agriculture;
To uphold neighboring states whose existence is necessary either for the safety of the government or

the balance of power;
To fulfill the obligations of offensive and defensive alliances;
To propagate political or religious theories, to crush them out, or to defend them;
To increase the influence and power of the state by acquisitions of territory;
To defend the threatened independence of the state;
To avenge insulted honor; or,
From a mania for conquest.

It may be remarked that these different kinds of war influence in some degree the nature and extent of
the efforts and operations necessary for the proposed end. The party who has provoked the war may be
reduced to the defensive, and the party assailed may assume the offensive; and there may be other
circumstances which will affect the nature and conduct of a war, as,—

1. A state may simply make war against another state.
2. A state may make war against several states in alliance with each other.
3. A state in alliance with another may make war upon a single enemy.
4. A state may be either the principal party or an auxiliary.
5. In the latter case a state may join in the struggle at its beginning or after it has commenced.
6. The theater of war may be upon the soil of the enemy, upon that of an ally, or upon its own.

7

. If the war be one of invasion, it may be upon adjacent or distant territory: it may be prudent and

cautious, or it may be bold and adventurous.

8

. It may be a national war, either against ourselves or against the enemy.

9

. The war may be a civil or a religious war.

War is always to be conducted according to the great principles of the art; but great discretion must be
exercised in the nature of the operations to be undertaken, which should depend upon the circumstances
of the case.

For example: two hundred thousand French wishing to subjugate the Spanish people, united to a man
against them, would not maneuver as the same number of French in a march upon Vienna, or any other
capital, to compel a peace; nor would a French army fight the guerrillas of Mina as they fought the
Russians at Borodino; nor would a French army venture to march upon Vienna without considering what
might be the tone and temper of the governments and communities between the Rhine and the Inn, or
between the Danube and the Elbe. A regiment should always fight in nearly the same way; but
commanding generals must be guided by circumstances and events.

To these different combinations, which belong more or less to statesmanship, may be added others
which relate solely to the management of armies. The name Military Policy is given to them; for they
belong exclusively neither to diplomacy nor to strategy, but are still of the highest importance in the plans
both of a statesman and a general.

2

ARTICLE VIII.

National Wars.

National wars, to which we have referred in speaking of those of invasion, are the most formidable of
all. This name can only be applied to such as are waged against a united people, or a great majority of
them, filled with a noble ardor and determined to sustain their independence: then every step is disputed,
the army holds only its camp-ground, its supplies can only be obtained at the point of the sword, and its
convoys are everywhere threatened or captured.

The spectacle of a spontaneous uprising of a nation is rarely seen; and, though there be in it
something grand and noble which commands our admiration; the consequences are so terrible that, for the
sake of humanity, we ought to hope never to see it. This uprising must not be confounded with a national
defense in accordance with the institutions of the state and directed by the government.

This uprising may be produced by the most opposite causes. The serfs may rise in a body at the call of
the government, and their masters, affected by a noble love of their sovereign and country, may set them
the example and take the command of them; and, similarly, a fanatical people may arm under the appeal
of its priests; or a people enthusiastic in its political opinions, or animated by a sacred love of its
institutions, may rush to meet the enemy in defense of all it holds most dear.

The control of the sea is of much importance in the results of a national invasion. If the people
possess a long stretch of coast, and are masters of the sea or in alliance with a power which controls it,
their power of resistance is quintupled, not only on account of the facility of feeding the insurrection and
of alarming the enemy on all the points he may occupy, but still more by the difficulties which will be
thrown in the way of his procuring supplies by the sea.

The nature of the country may be such as to contribute to the facility of a national defense. In
mountainous countries the people are always most formidable; next to these are countries covered with
extensive forests.

The resistance of the Swiss to Austria and to the Duke of Burgundy, that of the Catalans in

17

12

and
in

18

09, the difficulties encountered by the Russians in the subjugation of the tribes of the Caucasus, and,
finally, the reiterated efforts of the Tyrolese, clearly demonstrate that the inhabitants of mountainous
regions have always resisted for a longer time than those of the plains,—which is due as much to the
difference in character and customs as to the difference in the natural features of the countries.

Defiles and large forests, as well as rocky regions, favor this kind of defense; and the Bocage of La
Vendée, so justly celebrated, proves that any country, even if it be only traversed by large hedges and
ditches or canals, admits of a formidable defense.

The difficulties in the path of an army in wars of opinions, as well as in national wars, are very great,
and render the mission of the general conducting them very difficult. The events just mentioned, the
contest of the Netherlands with Philip II, and that of the Americans with the English, furnish evident
proofs of this; but the much more extraordinary struggle of La Vendée with the victorious Republic, those
of Spain, Portugal, and the Tyrol against Napoleon, and, finally, those of the Morea against the Turks, and
of Navarre against the armies of Queen Christina, are still more striking illustrations.

The difficulties are particularly great when the people are supported by a considerable nucleus of
disciplined troops. The invader has only an army: his adversaries have an army, and a people wholly or
almost wholly in arms, and making means of resistance out of every thing, each individual of whom

3

conspires against the common enemy; even the non-combatants have an interest in his ruin and accelerate
it by every means in their power. He holds scarcely any ground but that upon which he encamps; outside
the limits of his camp every thing is hostile and multiplies a thousandfold the difficulties he meets at
every step.

These obstacles become almost insurmountable when the country is difficult. Each armed inhabitant
knows the smallest paths and their connections; he finds everywhere a relative or friend who aids him; the
commanders also know the country, and, learning immediately the slightest movement on the part of the
invader, can adopt the best measures to defeat his projects; while the latter, without information of their
movements, and not in a condition to send out detachments to gain it, having no resource but in his
bayonets, and certain safety only in the concentration of his columns, is like a blind man: his
combinations are failures; and when, after the most carefully-concerted movements and the most rapid
and fatiguing marches, he thinks he is about to accomplish his aim and deal a terrible blow, he finds no
signs of the enemy but his campfires: so that while, like Don Quixote, he is attacking windmills, his
adversary is on his line of communications, destroys the detachments left to guard it, surprises his
convoys, his depots, and carries on a war so disastrous for the invader that he must inevitably yield after a
time.

In Spain I was a witness of two terrible examples of this kind. When Ney’s corps replaced Soult’s at
Corunna, I had camped the companies of the artillery-train between Betanzos and Corunna, in the midst
of four brigades distant from the camp from two to three leagues, and no Spanish forces had been seen
within fifty miles; Soult still occupied Santiago de Compostela, the division Maurice-Mathieu was at
Ferrol and Lugo, Marchand’s at Corunna and Betanzos: nevertheless, one fine night the companies of the
train—men and horses—disappeared, and we were never able to discover what became of them: a solitary
wounded corporal escaped to report that the peasants, led by their monks and priests, had thus made away
with them. Four months afterward, Ney with a single division marched to conquer the Asturias,
descending the valley of the Navia, while Kellermann debouched from Leon by the Oviedo road. A part
of the corps of La Romana which was guarding the Asturias marched behind the very heights which
inclose the valley of the Navia, at most but a league from our columns, without the marshal knowing a
word of it: when he was entering Gijon, the army of La Romana attacked the center of the regiments of
the division Marchand, which, being scattered to guard Galicia, barely escaped, and that only by the
prompt return of the marshal to Lugo. This war presented a thousand incidents as striking as this. All the
gold of Mexico could not have procured reliable information for the French; what was given was but a
lure to make them fall more readily into snares.

No army, however disciplined, can contend successfully against such a system applied to a great
nation, unless it be strong enough to hold all the essential points of the country, cover its communications,
and at the same time furnish an active force sufficient to beat the enemy wherever he may present
himself. If this enemy has a regular army of respectable size to be a nucleus around which to rally the
people, what force will be sufficient to be superior everywhere, and to assure the safety of the long lines
of communication against numerous bodies?

The Peninsular War should be carefully studied, to learn all the obstacles which a general and his
brave troops may encounter in the occupation or conquest of a country whose people are all in arms.
What efforts of patience, courage, and resignation did it not cost the troops of Napoleon, Massena, Soult,
Ney, and Suchet to sustain themselves for six years against three or four hundred thousand armed
Spaniards and Portuguese supported by the regular armies of Wellington, Beresford, Blake, La Romana,
Cuesta, Castaños, Reding, and Ballasteros!

If success be possible in such a war, the following general course will be most likely to insure it,—
viz.: make a display of a mass of troops proportioned to the obstacles and resistance likely to be

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encountered, calm the popular passions in every possible way, exhaust them by time and patience, display
courtesy, gentleness, and severity united, and, particularly, deal justly. The examples of Henry IV, in the
wars of the League, of Marshal Berwick in Catalonia, of Suchet in Aragon and Valencia, of Hoche in La
Vendée, are models of their kind, which may be employed according to circumstances with equal success.
The admirable order and discipline of the armies of Diebitsch and Paskevitch in the late war were also
models, and were not a little conducive to the success of their enterprises.

The immense obstacles encountered by an invading force in these wars have led some speculative
persons to hope that there should never be any other kind, since then wars would become more rare, and,
conquest being also more difficult, would be less a temptation to ambitious leaders. This reasoning is
rather plausible than solid; for, to admit all its consequences, it would be necessary always to be able to
induce the people to take up arms, and it would also be necessary for us to be convinced that there would
be in the future no wars but those of conquest, and that all legitimate though secondary wars, which are
only to maintain the political equilibrium or defend the public interests, should never occur again:
otherwise, how could it be known when and how to excite the people to a national war? For example, if
one hundred thousand Germans crossed the Rhine and entered France, originally with the intention of
preventing the conquest of Belgium by France, and without any other ambitious project, would it be a
case where the whole population—men, women, and children—of Alsace, Lorraine, Champagne, and
Burgundy, should rush to arms? to make a Saragossa of every walled town, to bring about, by way of
reprisals, murder, pillage, and incendiarism throughout the country? If all this be not done, and the
Germans, in consequence of some success, should occupy these provinces, who can say that they might
not afterward seek to appropriate a part of them, even though at first they had never contemplated it? The
difficulty of answering these two questions would seem to argue in favor of national wars. But is there no
means of repelling such an invasion without bringing about an uprising of the whole population and a war
of extermination? Is there no mean between these contests between the people and the old regular method
of war between permanent armies? Will it not be sufficient, for the efficient defense of the country, to
organize a militia, or landwehr, which, uniformed and called by their governments into service, would
regulate the part the people should take in the war, and place just limits to its barbarities?

I answer in the affirmative; and, applying this mixed system to the cases stated above, I will guarantee
that fifty thousand regular French troops, supported by the National Guards of the East, would get the
better of this German army which had crossed the Vosges; for, reduced to fifty thousand men by many
detachments, upon nearing the Meuse or arriving in Argonne it would have one hundred thousand men on
its hands. To attain this mean, we have laid it down as a necessity that good national reserves be prepared
for the army; which will be less expensive in peace and will insure the defense of the country in war. This
system was used by France in 1792, imitated by Austria in 1809, and by the whole of Germany in 18

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.

I sum up this discussion by asserting that, without being a utopian philanthropist, or a condottieri, a
person may desire that wars of extermination may be banished from the code of nations, and that the
defenses of nations by disciplined militia, with the aid of good political alliances, may be sufficient to
insure their independence.

As a soldier, preferring loyal and chivalrous warfare to organized assassination, if it be necessary to
make a choice, I acknowledge that my prejudices are in favor of the good old times when the French and
English Guards courteously invited each other to fire first,—as at Fontenoy,—preferring them to the
frightful epoch when priests, women, and children throughout Spain plotted the murder of isolated
soldiers.

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CHAPTER III.

Strategy.

DEFINITION OF STRATEGY AND

THE FUNDAMENTAL PRINCIPLE OF WAR.

The art of war, independently of its political and moral relations, consists of five principal parts, viz.:
Strategy, Grand Tactics, Logistics, Tactics of the different arms, and the Art of the Engineer. We will
treat of the first three branches, and begin by defining them. In order to do this, we will follow the order
of procedure of a general when war is first declared, who commences with the points of the highest
importance, as a plan of campaign, and afterward descends to the necessary details. Tactics, on the
contrary, begins with details, and ascends to combinations and generalization necessary for the formation
and handling of a great army.

We will suppose an army taking the field: the first care of its commander should be to agree with the
head of the state upon the character of the war: then he must carefully study the theater of war, and select
the most suitable base of operations, taking into consideration the frontiers of the state and those of its
allies.

The selection of this base and the proposed aim will determine the zone of operations. The general
will take a first objective point: he will select the line of operations leading to this point, either as a
temporary or permanent line, giving it the most advantageous direction; namely, that which promises the
greatest number of favorable opportunities with the least danger. An army marching on this line of
operations will have a front of operations and a strategic front. The temporary positions which the corps
d’armée will occupy upon this front of operations, or upon the line of defense, will be strategic positions.

When near its first objective point, and when it begins to meet resistance, the army will either attack
the enemy or maneuver to compel him to retreat; and for this end it will adopt one or two strategic lines of
maneuvers, which, being temporary, may deviate to a certain degree from the general line of operations,
with which they must not be confounded.

To connect the strategic front with the base as the advance is made, lines of supply, depots, &c. will
be established.

If the line of operations be long, and there be hostile troops in annoying proximity to it, these bodies
may either be attacked and dispersed or be merely observed, or the operations against the enemy may be
carried on without reference to them. If the second of these courses be pursued, a double strategic front
and large detachments will be the result.

The army being almost within reach of the first objective point, if the enemy oppose him there will be
a battle; if indecisive, the fight will be resumed; if the army gains the victory, it will secure its objective
point or will advance to attain a second. Should the first objective point be the possession of an important
fort, the siege will be commenced. If the army be not strong enough to continue its march, after detaching
a sufficient force to maintain the siege, it will take a strategic position to cover it, as did the army of Italy
in 1796, which, less than fifty thousand strong, could not pass Mantua to enter Austria, leaving twenty-
five thousand enemies within its walls, and having forty thousand more in front on the double line of the
Tyrol and Frioul.

If the army be strong enough to make the best use of its victory, or if it have no siege to make, it will
operate toward a second and more important objective point. If this point be distant, it will be necessary to
establish an intermediate point of support. One or more secure cities already occupied will form an

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eventual base: when this cannot be done, a small strategic reserve may be established, which will protect
the rear and also the depots by temporary fortifications. When the army crosses large streams, it will
construct têtes de pont; and, if the bridges are within walled cities, earth-works will be thrown up to
increase the means of defense and to secure the safety of the eventual base or the strategic reserve which
may occupy these posts.

Should the battle be lost, the army will retreat toward its base, in order to be reinforced therefrom by
detachments of troops, or, what is equivalent, to strengthen itself by the occupation of fortified posts and
camps, thus compelling the enemy to halt or to divide his forces.

When winter approaches, the armies will either go into quarters, or the field will be kept by the army

which has obtained decisive success and is desirous of profiting to the utmost by its superiority. These
winter campaigns are very trying to both armies, but in other respects do not differ from ordinary
campaigns, unless it be in demanding increased activity and energy to attain prompt success.

Such is the ordinary course of a war, and as such we will consider it, while discussing combinations

which result from these operations.

Strategy embraces the following points, viz.:—

1. The selection of the theater of war, and the discussion of the different combinations of which it

admits.
2. The determination of the decisive points in these combinations, and the most favorable direction
for operations.

3. The selection and establishment of the fixed base and of the zone of operations.
4. The selection of the objective point, whether offensive or defensive.
5. The strategic fronts, lines of defense, and fronts of operations.
6. The choice of lines of operations leading to the objective point or strategic front.

7. For a given operation, the best strategic line, and the different maneuvers necessary to embrace all
possible cases.

8. The eventual bases of operations and the strategic reserves.
9. The marches of armies, considered as maneuvers.

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. The relation between the position of depots and the marches of the army.

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. Fortresses regarded as strategical means, as a refuge for an army, as an obstacle to its progress:

the sieges to be made and to be covered.
12. Points for entrenched camps, têtes de pont, &c.
13. The diversions to be made, and the large detachments necessary.

These points are principally of importance in the determination of the first steps of a campaign; but

there are other operations of a mixed nature, such as passages of streams, retreats, surprises,
disembarkations, convoys, winter quarters, the execution of which belongs to tactics, the conception and
arrangement to strategy.

The maneuvering of an army upon the battle-field, and the different formations of troops for attack,

constitute Grand Tactics. Logistics is the art of moving armies. It comprises the order and details of
marches and camps, and of quartering and supplying troops; in a word, it is the execution of strategical
and tactical enterprises.

To repeat. Strategy is the art of making war upon the map, and comprehends the whole theater of

operations. Grand Tactics is the art of posting troops upon the battle-field according to the accidents of
the ground, of bringing them into action, and the art of fighting upon the ground, in contradistinction to

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planning upon a map. Its operations may extend over a field of ten or twelve miles in extent. Logistics
comprises the means and arrangements which work out the plans of strategy and tactics. Strategy decides
where to act; logistics brings the troops to this point; grand tactics decides the manner of execution and
the employment of the troops.

It is true that many battles have been decided by strategic movements, and have been, indeed, but a
succession of them; but this only occurs in the exceptional case of a dispersed army: for the general case
of pitched battles the above definition holds good.

Grand Tactics, in addition to acts of local execution, relates to the following objects:—

1. The choice of positions and defensive lines of battle.
2. The offensive in a defensive battle.
3. The different orders of battle, or the grand maneuvers proper for the attack of the enemy’s line.
4. The collision of two armies on the march, or unexpected battles.
5. Surprises of armies in the open field.
6. The arrangements for leading troops into battle.
7. The attack of positions and intrenched camps.
8. Coups de main.

All other operations, such as relate to convoys, foraging-parties, skirmishes of advanced or rear
guards, the attack of small posts, and any thing accomplished by a detachment or single division, may be
regarded as details of war, and not included in the great operations.

THE FUNDAMENTAL PRINCIPLE OF WAR.

It is proposed to show that there is one great principle underlying all the operations of war,—a
principle which must be followed in all good combinations. It is embraced in the following maxims:—

1. To throw by strategic movements the mass of an army, successively, upon the decisive points of a
theater of war, and also upon the communications of the enemy as much as possible without
compromising one’s own.

2. To maneuver to engage fractions of the hostile army with the bulk of one’s forces.
3. On the battle-field, to throw the mass of the forces upon the decisive point, or upon that portion of

the hostile line which it is of the first importance to overthrow.
4. To so arrange that these masses shall not only be thrown upon the decisive point, but that they shall

engage at the proper times and with energy.

This principle has too much simplicity to escape criticism: one objection is that it is easy to
recommend throwing the mass of the forces upon the decisive points, but that the difficulty lies in
recognizing those points.

This truth is evident; and it would be little short of the ridiculous to enunciate such a general principle
without accompanying it with all necessary explanations for its application upon the field. In Article XIX,
these decisive points will be described, and in Articles from XVIII, to XXII, will be discussed their
relations to the different combinations. Those students who, having attentively considered what is there
stated, still regard the determination of these points as a problem without a solution, may well despair of
ever comprehending strategy.

The general theater of operations seldom contains more than three zones,—the right, the left, and the
center; and each zone, front of operations, strategic position, and line of defense, as well as each line of

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battle, has the same subdivisions,—two extremities and the center. A direction upon one of these three
will always be suitable for the attainment of the desired end. A direction upon one of the two remaining
will be less advantageous; while the third direction will be wholly inapplicable. In considering the object
proposed in connection with the positions of the enemy and the geography of the country, it will appear
that in every strategic movement or tactical maneuver the question for decision will always be, whether to
maneuver to the right, to the left, or directly in front. The selection of one of these three simple
alternatives cannot, surely, be considered an enigma. The art of giving the proper direction to the masses
is certainly the basis of strategy, although it is not the whole of the art of war. Executive talent, skill,
energy, and a quick apprehension of events are necessary to carry out any combinations previously
arranged.

We will apply this great principle to the different cases of strategy and tactics, and then show, by the
history of twenty celebrated campaigns, that, with few exceptions, the most brilliant successes and the
greatest reverses resulted from an adherence to this principle in the one case, and from a neglect of it in
the other.

OF STRATEGIC COMBINATIONS.

ARTICLE XVI.

Of the System of Operations.

War once determined upon, the first point to be decided is, whether it shall be offensive or defensive;

and we will first explain what is meant by these terms. There are several phases of the offensive: if
against a great state, the whole or a large portion of whose territory is attacked, it is an invasion; if a
province only, or a line of defense of moderate extent, be assailed, it is the ordinary offensive; finally, if
the offensive is but an attack upon the enemy’s position, and is confined to a single operation, it is called
the taking the initiative. In a moral and political view, the offensive is nearly always advantageous: it
carries the war upon foreign soil, saves the assailant’s country from devastation, increases his resources
and diminishes those of his enemy, elevates the morale of his army, and generally depresses the
adversary. It sometimes happens that invasion excites the ardor and energy of the adversary,—particularly
when he feels that the independence of his country is threatened.

In a military point of view, the offensive has its good and its bad side. Strategically, an invasion leads

to deep lines of operations, which are always dangerous in a hostile country. All the obstacles in the
enemy’s country, the mountains, rivers, defiles, and forts, are favorable for defense, while the inhabitants
and authorities of the country, so far from being the instruments of the invading army, are generally
hostile. However, if success is obtained, the enemy is struck in a vital point: he is deprived of his
resources and compelled to seek a speedy termination of the contest.

For a single operation, which we have called the taking the initiative, the offensive is almost always

advantageous, particularly in strategy. Indeed, if the art of war consists in throwing the masses upon the
decisive points, to do this it will be necessary to take the initiative. The attacking party knows what he is
doing and what he desires to do; he leads his masses to the point where he desires to strike. He who
awaits the attack is everywhere anticipated: the enemy fall with large force upon fractions of his force: he
neither knows where his adversary proposes to attack him nor in what manner to repel him.

Tactically, the offensive also possesses advantages, but they are less positive, since, the operations

being upon a limited field, the party taking the initiative cannot conceal them from the enemy, who may
detect his designs and by the aid of good reserves cause them to fail.

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The attacking party labors under the disadvantages arising from the obstacles to be crossed before
reaching the enemy’s line; on which account the advantages and disadvantages of the tactical offensive
are about equally balanced.

Whatever advantages may be expected either politically or strategically from the offensive, it may not
be possible to maintain it exclusively throughout the war; for a campaign offensive in the beginning may
become defensive before it ends.

A defensive war is not without its advantages, when wisely conducted. It may be passive or active,
taking the offensive at times. The passive defense is always pernicious; the active may accomplish great
successes. The object of a defensive war being to protect, as long as possible, the country threatened by
the enemy, all operations should be designed to retard his progress, to annoy him in his enterprises by
multiplying obstacles and difficulties, without, however, compromising one’s own army. He who invades
does so by reason of some superiority; he will then seek to make the issue as promptly as possible: the
defense, on the contrary, desires delay till his adversary is weakened by sending off detachments, by
marches, and by the privations and fatigues incident to his progress.

An army is reduced to the defensive only by reverses or by a positive inferiority. It then seeks in the
support of forts, and in natural or artificial barriers, the means of restoring equality by multiplying
obstacles in the way of the enemy. This plan, when not carried to an extreme, promises many chances of
success, but only when the general has the good sense not to make the defense passive: he must not
remain in his positions to receive whatever blows may be given by his adversary; he must, on the
contrary, redouble his activity, and be constantly upon the alert to improve all opportunities of assailing
the weak points of the enemy. This plan of war may be called the defensive-offensive, and may have
strategical as well as tactical advantages. It combines the advantages of both systems; for one who awaits
his adversary upon a prepared field, with all his own resources in hand, surrounded by all the advantages
of being on his own ground, can with hope of success take the initiative, and is fully able to judge when
and where to strike.

During the first three campaigns of the Seven Years’ War Frederick was the assailant; in the
remaining four his conduct was a perfect model of the defensive-offensive. He was, however,
wonderfully aided in this by his adversaries, who allowed him all the time he desired, and many
opportunities of taking the offensive with success. Wellington’s course was mainly the same in Portugal,
Spain, and Belgium, and it was the most suitable in his circumstances. It seems plain that one of the
greatest talents of a general is to know how to use (it may be alternately) these two systems, and
particularly to be able to take the initiative during the progress of a defensive war.

ARTICLE XVII.

Of the Theater of Operations.

The theater of a war comprises all the territory upon which the parties may assail each other, whether
it belong to themselves, their allies, or to weaker states who may be drawn into the war through fear or
interest. When the war is also maritime, the theater may embrace both hemispheres,—as has happened in
contests between France and England since the time of Louis XIV. The theater of a war may thus be
undefined, and must not be confounded with the theater of operations of one or the other army. The
theater of a continental war between France and Austria may be confined to Italy, or may, in addition,
comprise Germany if the German States take part therein.

Armies may act in concert or separately: in the first case the whole theater of operations may be
considered as a single field upon which strategy directs the armies for the attainment of a definite end. In

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the second case each army will have its own independent theater of operations. The theater of operations
of an army embraces all the territory it may desire to invade and all that it may be necessary to defend. If
the army operates independently, it should not attempt any maneuver beyond its own theater, (though it
should leave it if it be in danger of being surrounded,) since the supposition is that no concert of action
has been arranged with the armies operating on the other fields. If, on the contrary, there be concert of
action, the theater of operations of each army taken singly is but a zone of operations of the general field,
occupied by the masses for the attainment of a common object.

Independently of its topographical features, each theater upon which one or more armies operate is
composed, for both parties, as follows:—

1. Of a fixed base of operations.
2. Of a principal objective point.
3. Of fronts of operations, strategic fronts, and lines of defense.
4. Of zones and lines of operations.
5. Of temporary strategic lines and lines of communications.
6. Of natural or artificial obstacles to be overcome or to oppose to the enemy.
7. Of geographical strategic points, whose occupation is important, either for the offensive or

defensive.
8. Of accidental intermediate bases of operations between the objective point and the primary base.
9. Of points of refuge in case of reverse.

For illustration, let us suppose the case of France invading Austria with two or three armies, to be

concentrated under one commander, and starting from Mayence, from the Upper Rhine, from Savoy or
the Maritime Alps, respectively. The section of county which each of these armies traverses may be
considered as a zone of the general field of operations. But if the army of Italy goes but to the Adige
without concerted action with the army of the Rhine, then what was before but a zone becomes for that
army a theater of operations.

In every case, each theater must have its own base, its own objective point, its zones and lines of

operations connecting the objective point with the base, either in the offensive or the defensive.

It has been taught and published that rivers are lines of operations par excellence. Now, as such a line

must possess two or three roads to move the army within the range of its operations, and at least one line
of retreat, rivers have been called lines of retreat, and even lines of maneuver. It would be much more
accurate to say that rivers are excellent lines of supply, and powerful auxiliaries in the establishment of a
good line of operations, but never the line itself

It has also been maintained that, could one create a country expressly to be a good theater of war,

converging roads would be avoided, because they facilitate invasion. Every country has its capital, its rich
cities for manufactures or trade; and, in the very nature of things, these points must be the centers of
converging routes. Could Germany be made a desert, to be molded into a theater of war at the pleasure of
an individual, commercial cities and centers of trade would spring up, and the roads would again
necessarily converge to these points. Moreover, was not the Archduke Charles enabled to beat Jourdan in
1796 by the use of converging routes? Besides, these routes are more favorable for defense than attack
since two divisions retreating upon these radial lines can effect a junction more quickly than two armies
which are pursuing, and they may thus united defeat each of the pursuing masses separately.

Some authors have affirmed that mountainous countries abound in strategic positions; others have

maintained that, on the contrary, these points are more rare among the Alps than in the plains, but also
that if more rare they are more important and more decisive.

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Some authors have represented that high ranges of mountains are, in war, inaccessible barriers.
Napoleon, on the contrary, in speaking of the Rhetian Alps, said that “an army could pass wherever a man
could put his foot.”

Generals no less experienced than himself in mountain-warfare have united with him in this opinion,
in admitting the great difficulty of carrying on a defensive war in such localities unless the advantages of
partisan and regular warfare can be combined, the first to guard the heights and to harass the enemy, the
second to give battle at the decisive points,—the junctions of the large valleys.

These differences of opinion are here noticed merely to show the reader that, so far from the art

having reached perfection, there are many points that admit of discussion.

The most important topographical or artificial features which make up the theater of a war will, in

succeeding portions of this chapter, be examined as to their strategic value; but here it may be proper to
remark that this value will depend much upon the spirit and skill of the general. The great leader who
crossed the Saint-Bernard and ordered the passage of the Splugen was far from believing in the
impregnability of these chains; but he was also far from thinking that a muddy rivulet and a walled
inclosure could change his destiny at Waterloo.

ARTICLE XXI.

Zones and Lines of Operations.

A zone of operations is a certain fraction of the whole theater of war, which may be traversed by an
army in the attainment of its object, whether it act singly or in concert with other and secondary armies.
For example, in the plan of campaign of 1796, Italy was the zone of the right, Bavaria that of the center,
Franconia that of the left army.

A zone of operations may sometimes present but a single line of operations, either on account of the

configuration of the country, or of the small number of practicable routes for an army found therein.
Generally, however, a zone presents several lines of operations, depending partly upon the plans of the
campaign, partly upon the number of great routes of communication existing in the theater of operations.

It is not to be understood from this that every road is of itself a line of operations,—though doubtless

it may happen that any good road in a certain turn of affairs may become for the time-being such a line;
but as long as it is only traversed by detachments, and lies beyond the sphere of the principal enterprises,
it cannot truly be called the real line of operations. Moreover, the existence of several routes leading to
the same front of operations, and separated by one or two marches, would not constitute so many lines of
operations, but, being the communications of the different divisions of the same army, the whole space
bounded by them would constitute but a single line.

The term zone of operations is applied to a large fraction of the general theater of war; the term lines

of operations will designate the part of this fraction embraced by the enterprises of the army. Whether it
follow a single or several routes, the term strategic lines will apply to those important lines which connect
the decisive points of the theater of operations either with each other or with the front of operations; and,
for the same reason, we give this name to those lines which the army would follow to reach one of these
decisive points, or to accomplish an important maneuver which requires a temporary deviation from the
principal line of operations. Lines of communications designate the practicable routes between the
different portions of the army occupying different positions throughout the zone of operations.

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For example, in 1813, after the accession of Austria to the Grand Coalition, three allied armies were
to invade Saxony, one Bavaria, and another Italy: so that Saxony, or rather the country between Dresden,
Magdeburg, and Breslau, formed the zone of operations of the mass of the forces. This zone had three
lines of operations leading to Leipsic as an objective: the first was the line of the army of Bohemia,
leading from the mountains of Erzgebirge by Dresden and Chemnitz upon Leipsic; the second was the
line of the army of Silesia, going from Breslau by Dresden or by Wittenberg upon Leipsic; the third was
that of Bemadotte from Berlin by Dessau to the same objective point. Each of these armies marched upon
two or more adjacent parallel routes, but it could not be said that there were as many lines of operations as
roads. The principal line of operations is that followed by the bulk of the army, and upon which depots of
provisions, munitions, and other supplies are echeloned, and over which, if compelled, it would retreat.

If the choice of a zone of operations involves no extensive combinations, since there can never be

more than two or three zones on each theater, and the advantages generally result from the localities, it is
somewhat different with lines of operations, as they are divided into different classes, according to their
relations to the different positions of the enemy, to the communications upon the strategic field, and to the
enterprises projected by the commander.

Simple lines of operations are those of an army acting from a frontier when it is not subdivided into
large independent bodies.

Double lines of operations are those of two independent armies proceeding from the same frontier, or
those of two nearly equal armies which are commanded by the same general but are widely separated in
distance and for long intervals of time.1

Interior lines of operations are those adopted by one or two armies to oppose several hostile bodies,
and having such a direction that the general can concentrate the masses and maneuver with his whole
force in a shorter period of time than it would require for the enemy to oppose to them a greater force.2

Exterior lines lead to the opposite result, and are those formed by an army which operates at the same
time on both flanks of the enemy, or against several of his masses.

Concentric lines of operations are those which depart from widely-separated points and meet at the
same point, either in advance of or behind the base.

Divergent lines are those by which an army would leave a given point to move upon several distinct
points. These lines, of course, necessitate a subdivision of the army.

There are also deep lines, which are simply long lines.

1 This definition has been criticized; and, as it has given rise to misapprehension, it becomes necessary to explain it.
In the first place, it must be borne in mind that it is a question of maneuver-lines, (that is, of strategic combinations,) and not of great routes. It
must also be admitted that an army marching upon two or three routes, near enough to each other to admit of the concentration of the different
masses within forty-eight hours, would not have two or three lines of operations. When Moreau and Jourdan entered Germany with two armies of
70,000 men each, being independent of each other, there was a double line of operations; but a French army of which only a detachment starts
from the Lower Rhine to march on the Main, while the five or six other corps set out from the Upper Rhine to march on Ulm, would not have a
double line of operations in the sense in which I use the term to designate a maneuver. Napoleon, when he concentrated seven corps and set them
in motion by Bamberg to march on Gera, while Mortier with a single corps marched on Cassel to occupy Hesse and flank the principal enterprise,
had but a single general line of operations, with an accessory detachment. The territorial line was composed of two arms or radii, but the
operation was not double.
2 Some German writers have said that I confound central positions with the line of operations,—in which assertion they are mistaken. An array
may occupy a central position in the presence of two masses of the enemy, and not have interior lines of operations: these are two very different
things. Others have thought that I would have done better to use the term radii of operations to express the idea of double lines. The reasoning in
this case is plausible if we conceive the theater of operations to be a circle; but, as every radius is, after all, a line, it is simply a dispute about
words.

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The term maneuver-lines I apply to momentary strategic lines, often adopted for a single temporary
maneuver, and which are by no means to be confounded with the real lines of operations.

Secondary lines are those of two armies acting so as to afford each other mutual support,—as, in
1796, the army of the Sambre and Meuse was secondary to the army of the Rhine, and, in 1812, the army
of Bagration was secondary to that of Barclay.

Accidental lines are those brought about by events which change the original plan and give a new

direction to operations. These are of the highest importance. The proper occasions for their use are fully
recognized only by a great and active mind.

There may be, in addition, provisional and definitive lines of operations. The first designate the line

adopted by an army in a preliminary, decisive enterprise, after which it is at liberty to select a more
advantageous or direct line. They seem to belong as much to the class of temporary or eventual strategic
lines as to the class of lines of operations.

These definitions show how I differ from those authors who have preceded me. Lloyd and Bulow

attribute to these lines no other importance than that arising from their relations to the depots of the army:
the latter has even asserted that when an army is encamped near its depots it has no lines of operations.

The following example will disprove this paradox. Let us suppose two armies, the first on the Upper

Rhine, the second in advance of Dusseldorf or any other point of this frontier, and that their large depots
are immediately behind the river,—certainly the safest, nearest, and most advantageous position for them
which could possibly be adopted. These armies will have an offensive or defensive object: hence they will
certainly have lines of operations, arising from the different proposed enterprises.

1. Their defensive territorial line, starting from their positions, will extend to the second line which

they are to cover, and they would both be cut off from this second line should the enemy establish himself
in the interval which separates them from it. Even if Mélas3 had possessed a year’s supplies in
Alessandria, he would none the less have been cut off from his base of the Mincio as soon as the
victorious enemy occupied the line of the Po.

2. Their line would be double, and the enemy’s single if he concentrated his forces to defeat these

armies successively; it would be a double exterior line, and the enemy’s a double interior, if the latter
divided his forces into two masses, giving them such directions as to enable him to concentrate all his
forces before the two armies first referred to could unite.

Bulow would have been more nearly right had he asserted that an army on its own soil is less

dependent on its primitive line of operations than when on foreign ground; for it finds in every direction
points of support and some of the advantages which are sought for in the establishment of lines of
operations; it may even lose its line of operations without incurring great danger; but that is no reason
why it has no line of operations.

MAXIMS ON LINES OF OPERATIONS.

From the analysis of all the events herein referred to, as well as from that of many others, the
following maxims result:—

3 This assertion has been disputed. I think it is correct; for Mélas, confined between the Bormida, the Tanaro, and the Po, was unable to recruit for
his army, barely able to maintain a communication by couriers with his base, and he certainly would have been obliged to cut his way out or to
surrender in case he had not been reinforced.

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1. If the art of war consists in bringing into action upon the decisive point of the theater of operations
the greatest possible force, the choice of the line of operations, being the primary means of attaining this
end, may be regarded as the fundamental idea in a good plan of a campaign. Napoleon proved this by the
direction he gave his armies in 1805 on Donauwerth and in 1806 on Gera,—maneuvers that cannot be too
much studied by military men.

Of course, it is impossible to sketch in advance the whole campaign. The objective point will be
determined upon in advance, the general plan to be followed to attain it, and the first enterprise to be
undertaken for this end: what is to follow will depend upon the result of this first operation and the new
phases it may develop.

2. The direction to be given to this line depends upon the geographical situation of the theater of

operations, but still more upon the position of the hostile masses upon this strategic field. In every case,
however, it must be directed upon the center or upon one of the extremities. Only when the assailing
forces are vastly preponderating would it be otherwise than a fatal error to act upon the center and the
two extremities at the same time.4

It may be laid down as a general principle, that, if the enemy divide his forces on an extended front,

the best direction of the maneuver-line will be upon his center, but in every other case, when it is possible,
the best direction will be upon one of the flanks, and then upon the rear of his line of defense or front of
operations.

The advantage of this maneuver arises more from the opportunity it affords of taking the line of

defense in reverse than from the fact that by using it the assailant has to contend with but a part of the
enemy’s force. Thus, the army of the Rhine in 1800, gaining the extreme left of the line of defense of the
Black Forest, caused it to yield almost without an effort. This army fought two battles on the right bank of
the Danube, which, although not decisive, yet, from the judicious direction of the line of operations,
brought about the invasion of Swabia and Bavaria. The results of the march of the army of the reserve by
the Saint-Bernard and Milan upon the extreme right of Mélas were still more brilliant.

3. Even when the extremity of the enemy’s front of operations is gained, it is not always safe to act

upon his rear, since by so doing the assailant in many cases will lose his own communications. To avoid
this danger, the line of operations should have a geographic and strategic direction, such that the army
will always find either to its rear or to the right or left a safe line of retreat. In this case, to take advantage
of either of these flank lines of retreat would require a change of direction of the line of operations,
(Maxim 12.)

The ability to decide upon such a direction is among the most important qualities of a general. The

importance of a direction is illustrated by these examples.

If Napoleon in 1800, after passing the Saint-Bernard, had marched upon Asti or Alessandria, and had

fought at Marengo without having previously protected himself on the side of Lombardy and of the left
bank of the Po, he would have been more thoroughly cut off from his line of retreat than Mélas from his;
but, having in his possession the secondary points of Casale and Pavia on the side of the Saint-Bernard,
and Savona and Tenda toward the Apennines, in case of reverse he had every means of regaining the Var
or the Valais.

4 The inferiority of an army does not depend exclusively upon the number of soldiers: their military qualities, their morale, and the ability of their
commander are also very important elements.

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In 1806, if he had marched from Gera directly upon Leipsic, and had there awaited the Prussian army
returning from Weimar, he would have been cut off from the Rhine as much as the Duke of Brunswick
from the Elbe, while by falling back to the west in the direction of Weimar he placed his front before the
three roads of Saalfeld, Schleiz, and Hof, which thus became well-covered lines of communication. If the
Prussians had endeavored to cut him off from these lines by moving between Gera and Baireuth, they
would have opened to him his most natural line,—the excellent road from Leipsic to Frankfort,—as well
as the two roads which lead from Saxony by Cassel to Coblentz, Cologne, and even Wesel.

4. Two independent armies should not be formed upon the same frontier: such an arrangement could

be proper only in the case of large coalitions, or where the forces at disposal are too numerous to act upon
the same zone of operations; and even in this case it would be better to have all the forces under the same
commander, who accompanies the principal army.

5. As a consequence of the last-mentioned principle, with equal forces on the same frontier, a single

line of operations will be more advantageous than a double one.

6. It may happen, however, that a double line will be necessary, either from the topography of the seat

of war, or because a double line has been adopted by the enemy, and it will be necessary to oppose a part
of the army to each of his masses.

7. In this case, interior or central lines will be preferable to exterior lines, since in the former case the

fractions of the army can be concentrated before those of the enemy, and may thus decide the fate of the
campaign.5 Such an army may, by a well-combined strategic plan, unite upon and overwhelm
successively the fractions of the adversary’s forces. To be assured of success in these maneuvers, a body
of observation is left in front of the army to be held in check, with instructions to avoid a serious
engagement, but to delay the enemy as much as possible by taking advantage of the ground, continually
falling back upon the principal army.

8. A double line is applicable in the case of a decided superiority of force, when each army will be a

match for any force the enemy can bring against it. In this case this course win be advantageous,—since a
single line would crowd the forces so much as to prevent them all from acting to advantage. However, it
will always be prudent to support well the army which, by reason of the nature of its theater and the
respective positions of the parties, has the most important duty to perform.

9. The principal events of modern wars demonstrate the truth of two other maxims. The first is, that

two armies operating on interior lines and sustaining each other reciprocally, and opposing two armies
superior in numbers, should not allow themselves to be crowded into a too contracted space, where the
whole might be overwhelmed at once. This happened to Napoleon at Leipsic.6 The second is, that interior
lines should not be abused by extending them too far, thus giving the enemy the opportunity of
overcoming the corps of observation. This risk, however, may be incurred if the end pursued by the main
forces is so decisive as to conclude the war,—when the fate of these secondary bodies would be viewed
with comparative indifference.

10. For the same reason, two converging lines are more advantageous than two divergent. The first

conform better to the principles of strategy, and possess the advantage of covering the lines of

5 When the fractions of an army are separated from the main body by only a few marches, and particularly when they are not intended to act
separately throughout the campaign, these are central strategic positions, and not lines of operations.
6 In the movements immediately preceding the battle of Leipsic. Napoleon, strictly speaking, had but a single line of operations, and his armies
were simply in central strategic positions; but the principle is the same, and hence the example is illustrative of lines of operations.

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communication and supply; but to be free from danger they should be so arranged that the armies which
pass over them shall not be separately exposed to the combined masses of the enemy, before being able to
effect their junction.

11. Divergent lines, however, may be advantageous when the center of the enemy has been broken

and his forces separated either by a battle or by a strategic movement,—in which case divergent
operations would add to the dispersion of the enemy. Such divergent lines would be interior, since the
pursuers could concentrate with more facility than the pursued.

12. It sometimes happens that an army is obliged to change its line of operations in the middle of a

campaign. This is a very delicate and important step, which may lead to great successes, or to equally
great disasters if not applied with sagacity, and is used only to extricate an army from an embarrassing
position. Napoleon projected several of these changes; for in his bold invasions he was provided with new
plans to meet unforeseen events.

At the battle of Austerlitz, if defeated, he had resolved to adopt a line of operations through Bohemia

on Passau or Ratisbon, which would have opened a new and rich country to him, instead of returning by
Vienna, which route lay through an exhausted country and from which the Archduke Charles was
endeavoring to cut him off. Frederick executed one of these changes of the line of operations after the
raising of the siege of Olmutz.

In 1814 Napoleon commenced the execution of a bolder maneuver, but one which was favored by the

localities. It was to base himself upon the fortresses of Alsace and Lorraine, leaving the route to Paris
open to the allies. If Mortier and Marmont could have joined him, and had he possessed fifty thousand
more men, this plan would have produced the most decisive results and have put the seal on his military
career.

13. As before stated, the outline of the frontiers, and the geographical character of the theater of

operations, exercise a great influence on the direction to be given to these lines, as well as upon the
advantages to be obtained. Central positions, salient toward the enemy, like Bohemia and Switzerland, are
the most advantageous, because they naturally lead to the adoption of interior lines and facilitate the
project of taking the enemy in reverse. The sides of this salient angle become so important that every
means should be taken to render them impregnable. In default of such central positions, their advantages
may be gained by the relative directions of maneuver-lines, as the following figure will explain.

Fig. 4

K

F G A B

H I C D

C D maneuvering upon the right of the front of the army A B, and H I upon the left flank of G F, will
form two interior lines I K and C K upon an extremity of the exterior lines A B, F G, which they may

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overwhelm separately by combining upon them. Such was the result of the operations of 1796, 1800, and
1809.

14. The general configuration of the bases ought also to influence the direction to be given to the
lines of operations, these latter being naturally dependent upon the former. It has already been shown that
the greatest advantage that can result from a choice of bases is when the frontiers allow it to be assumed
parallel to the line of operations of the enemy, thus affording the opportunity of seizing this line and
cutting him from his base.

But if, instead of directing the operations upon the decisive point, the line of operations be badly

chosen, all the advantages of the perpendicular base may be lost, as will be seen by referring to the
following figure. The army E, having the double base A C and C D, if it marched toward F, instead of to
the right toward G H, would lose all the strategic advantages of its base C D.

The great art, then, of properly directing lines of operations, is so to establish them in reference to the

bases and to the marches of the army as to seize the communications of the enemy without imperiling
one’s own, and is the most important and most difficult problem in strategy.

15. There is another point which exercises a manifest influence over the direction to be given to the

line of operations; it is when the principal enterprise of the campaign is to cross a large river in the
presence of a numerous and well-appointed enemy. In this case, the choice of this line depends neither
upon the will of the general nor the advantages to be gained by an attack on one or another point; for the
first consideration will be to ascertain where the passage can be most certainly effected, and where are to
be found the means for this purpose. The passage of the Rhine in 1795, by Jourdan, was near Dusseldorf,
for the same reason that the Vistula in 18

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was crossed by Marshal Paskevitch near Ossiek,—viz., that in
neither case was there the bridge-train necessary for the purpose, and both were obliged to procure and
take up the rivers large boats, bought by the French in Holland, and by the Russians at Thorn and Dantzic.
The neutrality of Prussia permitted the ascent of the river in both cases, and the enemy was not able to
prevent it. This apparently incalculable advantage led the French into the double invasions of 1795 and
1796, which failed because the double line of operations caused the defeat of the armies separately.
Paskevitch was wiser, and passed the Upper Vistula with only a small detachment and after the principal
army had already arrived at Lowicz.

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When an army is sufficiently provided with bridge-trains, the chances of failure are much lessened;
but then, as always, it is necessary to select the point which may, either on account of its topography or
the position of the enemy, be most advantageous. The discussion between Napoleon and Moreau on the
passage of the Rhine in 1800 is one of the most curious examples of the different combinations presented
by this question, which is both strategic and tactical.

Since it is necessary to protect the bridges, at least until a victory is gained, the point of passage will

exercise an influence upon the directions of a few marches immediately subsequent to the passage. The
point selected in every case for the principal passage will be upon the center or one of the flanks of the
enemy.

A united army which has forced a passage upon the center of an extended line might afterward adopt

two divergent lines to complete the dispersion of the enemy, who, being unable to concentrate, would not
think of disturbing the bridges.

If the line of the river is so short that the hostile army is more concentrated, and the general has the

means of taking up after the passage a front perpendicular to the river, it would be better to pass it upon
one of the extremities, in order to throw off the enemy from the bridges. This will be referred to in the
article upon the passage of rivers.

16. There is yet another combination of lines of operations to be noticed. It is the marked difference

of advantage between a line at home and one in a hostile country. The nature of the enemy’s country will
also influence these chances. Let us suppose an army crosses the Alps or the Rhine to carry on war in
Italy or Germany. It encounters states of the second rank; and, even if they are in alliance, there are
always rivalries or collisions of interest which will deprive them of that unity and strength possessed by a
single powerful state. On the other hand, a German army invading France would operate upon a line
much more dangerous than that of the French in Italy, because upon the first could be thrown the
consolidated strength of France, united in feeling and interest. An army on the defensive, with its line of
operations on its own soil, has resources everywhere and in every thing: the inhabitants, authorities,
productions, towns, public depots and arsenals, and even private stores, are all in its favor. It is not
ordinarily so abroad.

Lines of operations in rich, fertile, manufacturing regions offer to the assailants much greater

advantages than when in barren or desert regions, particularly when the people are not united against the
invader. In provinces like those first named the army would find a thousand necessary supplies, while in
the other huts and straw are about the only resources. Horses probably may obtain pasturage; but every
thing else must be carried by the army,—thus infinitely increasing the embarrassments and rendering bold
operations much more rare and dangerous. The French armies, so long accustomed to the comforts of
Swabia and Lombardy, almost perished in 1806 in the bogs of Pultusk, and actually did perish in 1812 in
the marshy forests of Lithuania.

17. There is another point in reference to these lines which is much insisted upon by some, but which

is more specious than important. It is that on each side of the line of operations the country should be
cleared of all enemies for a distance equal to the depth of this line: otherwise the enemy might threaten
the line of retreat. This rule is everywhere belied by the events of war. The nature of the country, the
rivers and mountains, the morale of the armies, the spirit of the people, the ability and energy of the
commanders, cannot be estimated by diagrams on paper. It is true that no considerable bodies of the
enemy could be permitted on the flanks of the line of retreat; but a compliance with this demand would
deprive an army of every means of taking a step in a hostile country; and there is not a campaign in recent
wars, or in those of Marlborough and Eugene, which does not contradict this assertion. Was not General
Moreau at the gates of Vienna when Fussen, Scharnitz, and all the Tyrol were in possession of the

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Austrians? Was not Napoleon at Piacenza when Turin, Genoa, and the Col-di-Tenda were occupied by
the army of Mélas? Did not Eugene march by way of Stradella and Asti to the aid of Turin, leaving the
French upon the Mincio but a few leagues from his base?

ARTICLE XXXIV.

Of Surprises of Armies.

I shall not speak here of surprises of small detachments,—the chief features in the wars of partisan or
light troops, for which the light Russian and Turkish cavalry are so well adapted. I shall confine myself to
an examination of the surprise of whole armies.

Before the invention of fire-arms, surprises were more easily effected than at present; for the reports

of artillery and musketry firing are heard to so great a distance that the surprise of an army is now next to
an impossibility, unless the first duties of field-service are forgotten and the enemy is in the midst of the
army before his presence is known because there are no outposts to give the alarm. The Seven Years’ War
presents a memorable example in the surprise of Hochkirch. It shows that a surprise does not consist
simply in falling upon troops that are sleeping or keeping a poor look-out, but that it may result from the
combination of a sudden attack upon, and a surrounding of, one extremity of the army. In fact, to surprise
an army it is not necessary to take it so entirely unawares that the troops will not even have emerged from
their tents, but it is sufficient to attack it in force at the point intended, before preparations can be made to
meet the attack.

As armies at the present day seldom camp in tents when on a march, prearranged surprises are rare
and difficult, because in order to plan one it becomes necessary to have an accurate knowledge of the
enemy’s camp. At Marengo, at Lutzen, and at Eylau there was something like a surprise; but this term
should only be applied to an entirely unexpected attack. The only great surprise to be cited is the case of
Taroutin, in 1812, where Murat was attacked and beaten by Benningsen. To excuse his imprudence,
Murat pretended that a secret armistice was in force; but there was really nothing of the kind, and he was
surprised through his own negligence.

It is evident that the most favorable manner of attacking an army is to fall upon its camp just before

daybreak, at the moment when nothing of the sort is expected. Confusion in the camp will certainly take
place; and, if the assailant has an accurate knowledge of the locality and can give a suitable tactical and
strategic direction to the mass of his forces, he may expect a complete success, unless unforeseen events
occur. This is an operation by no means to be despised in war, although it is rare, and less brilliant than a
great strategic combination which renders the victory certain even before the battle is fought.

For the same reason that advantage should be taken of all opportunities for surprising an adversary,

the necessary precautions should be used to prevent such attacks. The regulations for the government of
any well-organized army should point out the means for doing the last.

Article XXXVIII.

Retreats and Pursuits.

Retreats are certainly the most difficult operations in war. This remark is so true that the celebrated
Prince de Ligne said, in his usual piquant style, that he could not conceive how an army ever succeeded in
retreating. When we think of the physical and moral condition of an army in full retreat after a lost battle,
of the difficulty of preserving order, and of the disasters to which disorder may lead, it is not hard to
understand why the most experienced generals have hesitated to attempt such an operation.

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What method of retreat shall be recommended? Shall the fight be continued at all hazards until
nightfall and the retreat executed under cover of the darkness? or is it better not to wait for this last
chance, but to abandon the field of battle while it can be done and a strong opposition still made to the
pursuing army? Should a forced march be made in the night, in order to get as much start of the enemy as
possible? or is it better to halt after a half-march and make a show of fighting again? Each of these
methods, although entirely proper in certain cases, might in others prove ruinous to the whole army. If the
theory of war leaves any points unprovided for, that of retreats is certainly one of them.

If you determine to fight vigorously until night, you may expose yourself to a complete defeat before

that time arrives; and if a forced retreat must begin when the shades of night are shrouding every thing in
darkness and obscurity, how can you prevent the disintegration of your army, which does not know what
to do, and cannot see to do any thing properly? If, on the other hand, the field of battle is abandoned in
broad daylight and before all possible efforts have been made to hold it, you may give up the contest at
the very moment when the enemy is about to do the same thing; and this fact coming to the knowledge of
the troops, you may lose their confidence,—as they are always inclined to blame a prudent general who
retreats before the necessity for so doing may be evident to themselves. Moreover, who can say that a
retreat commenced in the daylight in presence of an enterprising enemy may not become a rout?

When the retreat is actually begun, it is no less difficult to decide whether a forced march shall be
made to get as much the start of the enemy as possible,—since this hurried movement might sometimes
cause the destruction of the army, and might, in other circumstances, be its salvation. All that can be
positively asserted on this subject is that, in general, with an army of considerable magnitude, it is best to
retreat slowly, by short marches, with a well-arranged rear-guard of sufficient strength to hold the heads
of the enemy’s columns in check for several hours.

Retreats are of different kinds, depending upon the cause from which they result. A general may retire

of his own accord before fighting, in order to draw his adversary to a position which he prefers to his
present one. This is rather a prudent maneuver than a retreat. It was thus that Napoleon retired in 1805
from Wischau toward Brunn to draw the allies to a point which suited him as a battle-field. It was thus
that Wellington retired from Quatre-Bras to Waterloo. This is what I proposed to do before the attack at
Dresden, when the arrival of Napoleon was known. I represented the necessity of moving toward
Dippoldiswalde to choose a favorable battle-field. It was supposed to be a retreat that I was proposing;
and a mistaken idea of honor prevented a retrograde movement without fighting, which would have been
the means of avoiding the catastrophe of the next day, (August

26

, 1813.)

A general may retire in order to hasten to the defense of a point threatened by the enemy, either upon

the flanks or upon the line of retreat. When an army is marching at a distance from its depots, in an
exhausted country, it may be obliged to retire in order to get nearer its supplies. Finally, an army retires
involuntarily after a lost battle, or after an unsuccessful enterprise.

These are not the only causes having an influence in retreats. Their character will vary with that of the

country, with the distances to be passed over and the obstacles to be surmounted. They are specially
dangerous in an enemy’s country; and when the points at which the retreats begin are distant from the
friendly country and the base of operations, they become painful and difficult.

From the time of the famous retreat of the Ten Thousand, so justly celebrated, until the terrible

catastrophe which befell the French army in 1812, history does not make mention of many remarkable
retreats. That of Antony, driven out of Media, was more painful than glorious. That of the Emperor Julian,
harassed by the same Parthians, was a disaster. In more recent days, the retreat of Charles VIII to Naples,
when he passed by a corps of the Italian army at Fornovo, was an admirable one. The retreat of M. de

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Bellisle from Prague does not deserve the praises it has received. Those executed by the King of Prussia
after raising the siege of Olmutz and after the surprise at Hochkirch were very well arranged; but they
were for short distances. That of Moreau in 1796, which was magnified in importance by party spirit, was
creditable, but not at all extraordinary. The retreat of Lecourbe from Engadin to Altorf, and that of
Macdonald by Pontremoli after the defeat of the Trebbia, as also that of Suwaroff from the Muttenthal to
Chur, were glorious feats of arms, but partial in character and of short duration. The retreat of the Russian
army from the Niemen to Moscow—a space of two hundred and forty leagues,—in presence of such an
enemy as Napoleon and such cavalry as the active and daring Murat commanded, was certainly
admirable. It was undoubtedly attended by many favorable circumstances, but was highly deserving of
praise, not only for the talent displayed by the generals who directed its first stages, but also for the
admirable fortitude and soldierly bearing of the troops who performed it. Although the retreat from
Moscow was a bloody catastrophe for Napoleon, it was also glorious for him and the troops who were at
Krasnoi and the Beresina,—because the skeleton of the army was saved, when not a single man should
have returned. In this ever-memorable event both parties covered themselves with glory.

The magnitude of the distances and the nature of the country to be traversed, the resources it offers,

the obstacles to be encountered, the attacks to be apprehended, either in rear or in flank, superiority or
inferiority in cavalry, the spirit of the troops, are circumstances which have a great effect in deciding the
fate of retreats, leaving out of consideration the skillful arrangements which the generals may make for
their execution.

A general falling back toward his native land along his line of magazines and supplies may keep his
troops together and in good order, and may effect a retreat with more safety than one compelled to subsist
his army in cantonments, finding it necessary to occupy an extended position. It would be absurd to
pretend that a French army retiring from Moscow to the Niemen without supplies of provisions, in want
of cavalry and draft horses, could effect the movement in the same good order and with the same
steadiness as a Russian army, well provided with every thing necessary, marching in its own country, and
covered by an immense number of light cavalry.

There are five methods of arranging a retreat:—

The first is to march in a single mass and upon one road.
The second consists in dividing the army into two or three corps, marching at the distance of a day’s

march from each other, in order to avoid confusion, especially in the matériel.
The third consists in marching upon a single front by several roads nearly parallel and having a

common point of arrival.
The fourth consists in moving by constantly converging roads.
The fifth, on the contrary, consists in moving along diverging roads.

I have nothing to say as to the formation of rear-guards; but it is taken for granted that a good one

should always be prepared and well sustained by a portion of the cavalry reserves. This arrangement is
common to all kinds of retreats, but has nothing to do with the strategic relations of these operations.

An army falling back in good order, with the intention of fighting as soon as it shall have received

expected reinforcements or as soon as it shall have reached a certain strategic position, should prefer the
first method, as this particularly insures the compactness of the army and enables it to be in readiness for
battle almost at any moment, since it is simply necessary to halt the heads of columns and form the
remainder of the troops under their protection as they successively arrive. An army employing this
method must not, however, confine itself to the single main road, if there are side-roads sufficiently near
to be occupied which may render its movements more rapid and secure.

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CHAPTER VI.

Logistics; Or, the Practical Art of Moving Armies.

ARTICLE XLI.

A few Remarks on Logistics in General.

Is logistics simply a science of detail? Or, on the contrary, is it a general science, forming one of the
most essential parts of the art of war? or is it but a term, consecrated by long use, intended to designate
collectively the different branches of staff duty,—that is to say, the different means of carrying out in
practice the theoretical combinations of the art?

These questions will seem singular to those persons who are firmly convinced that nothing more

remains to be said about the art of war, and believe it wrong to search out new definitions where every
thing seems already accurately classified. For my own part, I am persuaded that good definitions lead to
clear ideas; and I acknowledge some embarrassment in answering these questions which seem so simple.

In the earlier editions of this work I followed the example of other military writers, and called by the
name of logistics the details of staff duties, which are the subject of regulations for field-service and of
special instructions relating to the corps of quartermasters. This was the result of prejudices consecrated
by time. The word logistics is derived, as we know, from the title of the major général des logis,
(translated in German by Quartiermeister,) an officer whose duty it formerly was to lodge and camp the
troops, to give direction to the marches of columns, and to locate them upon the ground. Logistics was
then quite limited. But when war began to be waged without camps, movements became more
complicated, and the staff officers had more extended functions. The chief of staff began to perform the
duty of transmitting the conceptions of the general to the most distant points of the theater of war, and of
procuring for him the necessary documents for arranging plans of operations. The chief of staff was called
to the assistance of the general in arranging his plans, to give information of them to subordinates in
orders and instructions, to explain them and to supervise their execution both in their ensemble and in
their minute details: his duties were, therefore, evidently connected with all the operations of a campaign.

To be a good chief of staff, it became in this way necessary that a man should be acquainted with all

the various branches of the art of war. If the term logistics includes all this, the two works of the
Archduke Charles, the voluminous treatises of Guibert, Laroche-Aymon, Bousmard, and Ternay, all taken
together, would hardly give even an incomplete sketch of what logistics is; for it would be nothing more
nor less than the science of applying all possible military knowledge.

It appears from what has been said that the old term logistics is insufficient to designate the duties of

staff officers, and that the real duties of a corps of such officers, if an attempt be made to instruct them in
a proper manner for their performance, should be accurately prescribed by special regulations in
accordance with the general principles of the art. Governments should take the precaution to publish
well-considered regulations, which should define all the duties of staff officers and should give clear and
accurate instructions as to the best methods of performing these duties.

The Austrian staff formerly had such a code of regulations for their government; but it was somewhat

behind the times, and was better adapted to the old methods of carrying on war than the present. This is
the only work of the kind I have seen. There are, no doubt, others, both public and secret; but I have no
knowledge of their existence. Several generals—as, for instance, Grimoard and Thiebaut—have prepared
manuals for staff officers, and the new royal corps of France has issued several partial sets of instructions;
but there is nowhere to be found a complete manual on the subject.

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If it is agreed that the old logistics had reference only to details of marches and camps, and, moreover,
that the functions of staff officers at the present day are intimately connected with the most important
strategical combinations, it must be admitted that logistics includes but a small part of the duties of staff
officers; and if we retain the term we must understand it to be greatly extended and developed in
signification, so as to embrace not only the duties of ordinary staff officers, but of generals-in-chief.

To convince my readers of this fact, I will mention the principal points that must be included if we

wish to embrace in one view every duty and detail relating to the movements of armies and the
undertakings resulting from such movements:—

1. The preparation of all the material necessary for setting the army in motion, or, in other words, for

opening the campaign. Drawing up orders, instructions, and itineraries for the assemblage of the army and
its subsequent launching upon its theater of operations.

2. Drawing up in a proper manner the orders of the general-in-chief for different enterprises, as well
as plans of attack in expected battles.

3. Arranging with the chiefs of engineers and artillery the measures to be taken for the security of the
posts which are to be used as depots, as well as those to be fortified in order to facilitate the operations of
the army.

4. Ordering and directing reconnaissance of every kind, and procuring in this way, and by using spies,

as exact information as possible of the positions and movements of the enemy.

5. Taking every precaution for the proper execution of movements ordered by the general. Arranging

the march of the different columns, so that all may move in an orderly and connected manner.
Ascertaining certainly that the means requisite for the ease and safety of marches are prepared. Regulating
the manner and time of halts.

6. Giving proper composition to advanced guards, rear-guards, flankers, and all detached bodies, and

preparing good instructions for their guidance. Providing all the means necessary for the performance of
their duties.

7. Prescribing forms and instructions for subordinate commanders or their staff officers, relative to

the different methods of drawing up the troops in columns when the enemy is at hand, as well as their
formation in the most appropriate manner when the army is to engage in battle, according to the nature of
the ground and the character of the enemy.7

8. Indicating to advanced guards and other detachments well-chosen points of assembly in case of

their attack by superior numbers, and informing them what support they may hope to receive in case of
need.

9. Arranging and superintending the march of trains of baggage, munitions, provisions, and

ambulances, both with the columns and in their rear, in such manner that they will not interfere with the
movements of the troops and will still be near at hand. Taking precautions for order and security, both on
the march and when trains are halted and parked.

7 I refer here to general instructions and forms, which are not to be repeated every day: such repetition would be impracticable.

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10. Providing for the successive arrival of convoys of supplies. Collecting all the means of
transportation of the country and of the army, and regulating their use.

11. Directing the establishment of camps, and adopting regulations for their safety, good order, and

police.

12. Establishing and organizing lines of operations and supplies, as well as lines of communications

with these lines for detached bodies. Designating officers capable of organizing and commanding in rear
of the army; looking out for the safety of detachments and convoys, furnishing them good instructions,
and looking out also for preserving suitable means of communication of the army with its base.

13. Organizing depots of convalescent, wounded, and sickly men, movable hospitals, and workshops

for repairs; providing for their safety.

14. Keeping accurate record of all detachments, either on the flanks or in rear; keeping an eye upon

their movements, and looking out for their return to the main column as soon as their service on
detachment is no longer necessary; giving them, when required, some center of action, and forming
strategic reserves.

15. Organizing marching battalions or companies to gather up isolated men or small detachments

moving in either direction between the army and its base of operations.

16. In case of sieges, ordering and supervising the employment of the troops in the trenches, making

arrangements with the chiefs of artillery and engineers as to the labors to be performed by those troops
and as to their management in sorties and assaults.

17. In retreats, taking precautionary measures for preserving order; posting fresh troops to support

and relieve the rear-guard; causing intelligent officers to examine and select positions where the
rear-guard may advantageously halt, engage the enemy, check his pursuit, and thus gain time; making
provision in advance for the movement of trains, that nothing shall be left behind, and that they shall
proceed in the most perfect order, taking all proper precautions to insure safety.

18. In cantonments, assigning positions to the different corps; indicating to each principal division of

the army a place of assembly in case of alarm; taking measures to see that all orders, instructions, and
regulations are implicitly observed.

An examination of this long list—which might easily be made much longer by entering into greater

detail—will lead every reader to remark that these are the duties rather of the general-in-chief than of staff
officers. This truth I announced some time ago; and it is for the very purpose of permitting the general-in-
chief to give his whole attention to the supreme direction of the operations that he ought to be provided
with staff officers competent to relieve him of details of execution. Their functions are therefore
necessarily very intimately connected; and woe to an army where these authorities cease to act in concert!
This want of harmony is often seen,—first, because generals are men and have faults, and secondly,
because in every army there are found individual interests and pretensions, producing rivalry of the chiefs
of staff and hindering them in performing their duties.8

8 The chiefs of artillery, of engineers, and of the administrative departments all claim to have direct connection with the general-in-chief, and not
with the chief of staff. There should, of course, be no hindrance to the freest intercourse between these high officers and the commander; but he
should work them with them in presence of the chief of staff, and send him all their correspondence: otherwise, confusion is inevitable.

25

It is not to be expected that this treatise shall contain rules for the guidance of staff officers in all the
details of their multifarious duties; for, in the first place, every different nation has staff officers with
different names and rounds of duties,—so that I should be obliged to write new rules for each army; in the
second place, these details are fully entered into in special books pertaining to these subjects.

I will, therefore, content myself with enlarging a little upon some of the first articles enumerated

above:—

1. The measures to be taken by the staff officers for preparing the army to enter upon active

operations in the field include all those which are likely to facilitate the success of the first plan of
operations. They should, as a matter of course, make sure, by frequent inspections, that the matériel of all
the arms of the service is in good order: horses, carnages, caissons, teams, harness, shoes, &c. should be
carefully examined and any deficiencies supplied. Bridge-trains, engineer-tool trains, matériel of artillery,
siege-trains if they are to move, ambulances,—in a word, every thing which comes under the head of,
matériel,—should be carefully examined and placed in good order.

If the campaign is to be opened in the neighborhood of great rivers, gun-boats and flying bridges

should be prepared, and all the small craft should be collected at the points and at the bank where they
will probably be used. Intelligent officers should examine the most favorable points both for
embarkations and for landings,—preferring those localities which present the greatest chances of success
for a primary establishment on the opposite bank.

The staff officers will prepare all the itineraries that will be necessary for the movement of the several
corps of the army to the proper points of assemblage, making every effort to give such direction to the
marches that the enemy shall be unable to learn from them any thing relative to the projected enterprise.

If the war is to be offensive, the staff officers arrange with the chief engineer officers what

fortifications shall be erected near the base of operations, when têtes de ponts or intrenched camps are to
be constructed there. If the war is defensive, these works will be built between the first line of defense and
the second base.

2. An essential branch of logistics is certainly that which relates to making arrangements of marches

and attacks, which are fixed by the general and notice of them given to the proper persons by the chiefs of
staff. The next most important qualification of a general, after that of knowing how to form good plans, is,
unquestionably, that of facilitating the execution of his orders by their clearness of style. Whatever may
be the real business of a chief of staff, the greatness of a commander-in-chief will be always manifested in
his plans; but if the general lacks ability the chief of staff should supply it as far as he can, having a
proper understanding with the responsible chief.

I have seen two very different methods employed in this branch of the service. The first, which may

be styled the old school, consists in issuing daily, for the regulation of the movements of the army,
general instructions filled with minute and somewhat pedantic details, so much the more out of place as
they are usually addressed to chiefs of corps, who are supposed to be of sufficient experience not to
require the same sort of instruction as would be given to junior subalterns just out of school.

The other method is that of the detached orders given by Napoleon to his marshals, prescribing for each
one simply what concerned himself, and only informing him what corps were to operate with him, either
on the right or the left, but never pointing out the connection of the operations of the whole army.9 I have

9 I believe that at the passage of the Danube before Wagram, and at the opening of the second campaign of 1813, Napoleon deviated from his
usual custom by issuing a general order.

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good reasons for knowing that he did this designedly, either to surround his operations with an air of
mystery, or for fear that more specific orders might fall into the hands of the enemy and assist him in
thwarting his plans.

It is certainly of great importance for a general to keep his plans secret; and Frederick the Great was

right when he said that if his night-cap knew what was in his head he would throw it into the fire. That
kind of secrecy was practicable in Frederick’s time, when his whole army was kept closely about him; but
when maneuvers of the vastness of Napoleon’s are executed, and war is waged as in our day, what
concert of action can be expected from generals who are utterly ignorant of what is going on around
them?

Of the two systems, the last seems to me preferable. A judicious mean may be adopted between the

eccentric conciseness of Napoleon and the minute verbosity which laid down for experienced generals
like Barclay, Kleist, and Wittgenstein precise directions for breaking into companies and reforming again
in line of battle,—a piece of nonsense all the more ridiculous because the execution of such an order in
presence of the enemy is impracticable. It would be sufficient, I think, in such cases, to give the generals
special orders relative to their own corps, and to add a few lines in cipher informing them briefly as to the
whole plan of the operations and the part they are to take individually in executing it. When a proper
cipher is wanting, the order may be transmitted verbally by an officer capable of understanding it and
repeating it accurately. Indiscreet revelations need then be no longer feared, and concert of action would
be secured.

3. The army being assembled, and being in readiness to undertake some enterprise, the important
thing will be to secure as much concert and precision of action as possible, whilst taking all the usual
precautions to gain accurate information of the route it is to pursue and to cover its movements
thoroughly.

There are two kinds of marches,—those which are made out of sight of the enemy, and those which

are made in his presence, either advancing or retiring. These marches particularly have undergone great
changes in late years. Formerly, armies seldom came in collision until they had been several days in
presence of each other, and the attacking party had roads opened by pioneers for the columns to move up
parallel to each other. At present, the attack is made more promptly, and the existing roads usually answer
all purposes. It is, however, of importance, when an army is moving, that pioneers and sappers
accompany the advanced guard, to increase the number of practicable roads, to remove obstructions,
throw small bridges over creeks, &c., if necessary, and secure the means of easy communication between
the different corps of the army.

In the present manner of marching, the calculation of times and distances becomes more complicated:

the columns having each a different distance to pass over, in determining the hour of their departure and
giving them instructions the following particulars must be considered:—1, the distances to be passed
over; 2, the amount of matériel in each train; 3, the nature of the country; 4, the obstacles placed in the
way by the enemy; 5, the fact whether or not it is important for the march to be concealed or open.

Under present circumstances, the surest and simplest method of arranging the movements of the great

corps forming the wings of an army, or of all those corps not marching with the column attached to the
general head-quarters, will be to trust the details to the experience of the generals commanding those
corps,—being careful, however, to let them understand that the most exact punctuality is expected of
them. It will then be enough to indicate to them the point to be reached and the object to be attained, the
route to be pursued and the hour at which they will be expected to be in position. They should be
informed what corps are marching either on the same roads with them or on side-roads to the right or left,

27

in order that they may govern themselves accordingly; they should receive whatever news there may be of
the enemy, and have a line of retreat indicated to them.10

All those details whose object it is to prescribe each day for the chiefs of corps the method of forming

their columns and placing them in position are mere pedantry,—more hurtful than useful. To see that they
march habitually according to regulation or custom is necessary; but they should be free to arrange their
movements so as to arrive at the appointed place and time, at the risk of being removed from their
command if they fail to do so without sufficient reason. In retreats, however, which are made along a
single road by an army separated into divisions, the hours of departure and halts must be carefully
regulated.

Each column should have its own advanced guard and flankers, that its march may be conducted with

the usual precautions: it is convenient also, even when they form part of a second line, for the head of
each column to be preceded by a few pioneers and sappers, provided with tools for removing obstacles or
making repairs in case of accidents; a few of these workmen should also accompany each train: in like
manner, a light trestle-bridge train will be found very useful.

4. The army on the march is often preceded by a general advanced guard, or, as is more frequent in

the modern system, the center and each wing may have its special advanced guard. It is customary for the
reserves and the center to accompany the head-quarters; and the general advanced guard, when there is
one, will usually follow the same road: so that half the army is thus assembled on the central route. Under
these circumstances, the greatest care is requisite to prevent obstructing the road. It happens sometimes,
however, when the important stroke is to be made in the direction of one of the wings, that the reserves,
the general head-quarters, and even the general advanced guard, may be moved in that direction: in this
case, all the rules usually regulating the march of the center must be applied to that wing.

Advanced guards should be accompanied by good staff officers, capable of forming correct ideas as

to the enemy’s movements and of giving an accurate account of them to the general, thus enabling him to
make his plans understandingly. The commander of the advanced guard should assist the general in the
same way. A general advanced guard should be composed of light troops of all arms, containing some of
the élite troops of the army as a main body, a few dragoons prepared to fight on foot, some horse-artillery,
pontoniers, sappers, &c., with light trestles and pontoons for passing small streams. A few good
marksmen will not be out of place. A topographical officer should accompany it, to make a sketch of the
country a mile or two on each side of the road. A body of irregular cavalry should always be attached, to
spare the regular cavalry and to serve as scouts, because they are best suited to such service.

5. As the army advances and removes farther from its base, it becomes the more necessary to have a

good line of operations and of depots which may keep up the connection of the army with its base, The
staff officers will divide the depots into departments, the principal depot being established in the town
which can lodge and supply the greatest number of men: if there is a fortress suitably situated, it should be
selected as the site of the principal depot.

The secondary depots may be separated by distances of from fifteen to thirty miles, usually in the

towns of the country. The mean distance apart will be about twenty to twenty-five miles. This will give
fifteen depots upon a line of three hundred miles, which should be divided into three or four brigades of
depots. Each of these will have a commander and a detachment of troops or of convalescent soldiers, who

10 Napoleon never did this, because he maintained that no general should ever think seriously of the possibility of being beaten. In many marches
it is certainly a useless precaution; but it is often indispensable.

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regulate the arrangements for accommodating troops and give protection to the authorities of the country,
(if they remain;) they furnish facilities for transmitting the mails and the necessary escorts; the
commander sees that the roads and bridges are kept in good order. If possible, there should be a park of
several carriages at each depot, certainly at the principal one in each brigade. The command of all the
depots embraced within certain geographical limits should be intrusted to prudent and able general
officers; for the security of the communications of the army often depends on their operations.11 These
commands may sometimes become strategic reserves, as was explained in Art. XXIII.; a few good
battalions, with the assistance of movable detachments passing continually between the army and the
base, will generally be able to keep open the communications.

6. The study of the measures, partly logistical and partly tactical, to be taken by the staff officers in

bringing the troops from the order of march to the different orders of battle, is very important, but requires
going into such minute detail that I must pass it over nearly in silence, contenting myself with referring
my readers to the numerous works specially devoted to this branch of the art of war.

ARTICLE XLVI.

Employment of Artillery.

Artillery is an arm equally formidable both in the offensive and defensive. As an offensive means, a

great battery well managed may break an enemy’s line, throw it into confusion, and prepare the way for
the troops that are to make an assault. As a defensive means, it doubles the strength of a position, not only
on account of the material injury it inflicts upon the enemy while at a distance, and the consequent moral
effect upon his troops, but also by greatly increasing the peril of approaching near, and specially within
the range of grape. It is no less important in the attack and defense of fortified places or intrenched camps;
for it is one of the main reliances in modern systems of fortification.

I have already in a former portion of this book given some directions as to the distribution of artillery

in a line of battle; but it is difficult to explain definitely the proper method of using it in the battle itself. It
will not be right to say that artillery can act independently of the other arms, for it is rather an accessory.
At Wagram, however, Napoleon threw a battery of one hundred pieces into the gap left by the withdrawal
of Massena’s corps, and thus held in check the Austrian center, notwithstanding their vigorous efforts to
advance. This was a special case, and should not be often imitated.

I will content myself with laying down a few fundamental rules, observing that they refer to the

present state of artillery service, (1838.) The recent discoveries not yet being fully tested, I shall say little
with reference to them.

1. In the offensive, a certain portion of the artillery should concentrate its fire upon the point where a

decisive blow is to be struck. Its first use is to shatter the enemy’s line, and then it assists with its fire the
attack of the infantry and cavalry.

2. Several batteries of horse-artillery should follow the offensive movements of the columns of attack,

besides the foot-batteries intended for the same purpose. Too much foot-artillery should not move with an
offensive column. It may be posted so as to co-operate with the column without accompanying it. When
the cannoneers can mount the boxes, it may have greater mobility and be advanced farther to the front.

11 It may be objected that in some wars, as where the population is hostile, it may be very difficult, or impracticable, to organize lines of depots.
In such cases they will certainly be exposed to great dangers; but these are the very cases where they are most necessary and should be most
numerous. The line from Bayonne to Madrid was such a line, which resisted for four years the attacks of the guerrillas,—although convoys were
sometimes seized. At one time the line extended as far as Cadiz.

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3. It has already been stated that half of the horse-artillery should be held in reserve, that it may be

rapidly moved to any required point.12 For this purpose it should be placed upon the most open ground,
whence it can move readily in every direction. I have already indicated the best positions for the heavy
calibers.

4. The batteries, whatever may be their general distribution along the defensive line, should give their

attention particularly to those points where the enemy would be most likely to approach, either on account
of the facility or the advantage of so doing. The general of artillery should therefore know the decisive
strategic and tactical points of the battle-field, as well as the topography of the whole space occupied. The
distribution of the reserves of artillery will be regulated by these.

5. Artillery placed on level ground or ground sloping gently to the front is most favorably situated

either for point-blank or ricochet firing: a converging fire is the best.

6. It should be borne in mind that the chief office of all artillery in battles is to overwhelm the

enemy’s troops, and not to reply to their batteries. It is, nevertheless, often useful to fire at the batteries, in
order to attract their fire. A third of the disposable artillery may be assigned this duty, but two-thirds at
least should be directed against the infantry and cavalry of the enemy.

7. If the enemy advance in deployed lines, the batteries should endeavor to cross their fire in order to
strike the lines obliquely. If guns can be so placed as to enfilade a line of troops, a most powerful effect is
produced.

8. When the enemy advance in columns, they may be battered in front. It is advantageous also to

attack them obliquely, and especially in flank and reverse. The moral effect of a reverse fire upon a body
of troops is inconceivable; and the best soldiers are generally put to flight by it. The fine movement of
Ney on Preititz at Bautzen was neutralized by a few pieces of Kleist’s artillery, which took his columns in
flank, checked them, and decided the marshal to deviate from the excellent direction he was pursuing. A
few pieces of light artillery, thrown at all hazards upon the enemy’s flank, may produce most important
results, far overbalancing the risks run.

9. Batteries should always have supports of infantry or cavalry, and especially on their flanks. Cases

may occur where the rule may be deviated from: Wagram is a very remarkable example of this.

10. It is very important that artillerists, when threatened by cavalry, preserve their coolness. They

should fire first solid shot, next shells, and then grape, as long as possible. The infantry supports should,
in such a case, form squares in the vicinity, to shelter the horses, and, when necessary, the cannoneers.
When the infantry is drawn up behind the pieces, large squares of sufficient size to contain whatever they
should cover are best; but when the infantry is on the flanks, smaller squares are better. Rocket-batteries
may also be very efficient in frightening the horses.

11. When infantry threatens artillery, the latter should continue its fire to the last moment, being

careful not to commence firing too soon. The cannoneers can always be sheltered from an infantry attack
if the battery is properly supported. This is a case for the co-operation of the three arms; for, if the
enemy’s infantry is thrown into confusion by the artillery, a combined attack upon it by cavalry and
infantry will cause its destruction.

12 Greater mobility is now given to foot-artillery by mounting the men on the boxes.

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12. The proportions of artillery have varied in different wars. Napoleon conquered Italy in 1800 with
forty or fifty pieces,—whilst in 1812 he invaded Russia with one thousand pieces thoroughly equipped,
and failed. These facts show that any fixed rule on the subject is inadmissible. Usually three pieces to a
thousand combatants are allowed; but this allowance will depend on circumstances.

The relative proportions of heavy and light artillery vary also between wide limits. It is a great

mistake to have too much heavy artillery, whose mobility must be much less than that of the lighter
calibers. A remarkable proof of the great importance of having a strong artillery-armament was given by
Napoleon after the battle of Eylau. The great havoc occasioned among his troops by the numerous guns of
the Russians opened his eyes to the necessity of increasing his own. With wonderful vigor, he set all the
Prussian arsenals to work, those along the Rhine, and even at Metz, to increase the number of his pieces,
and to cast new ones in order to enable him to use the munitions previously captured. In three months he
doubled the, matériel and personnel of his artillery, at a distance of one thousand miles from his own
frontiers,—a feat without a parallel in the annals of war.

13. One of the surest means of using the artillery to the best advantage is to place in command of it a

general who is at once a good strategist and tactician. This chief should be authorized to dispose not only
of the reserve artillery, but also of half the pieces attached to the different corps or divisions of the army.
He should also consult with the commanding general as to the moment and place of concentration of the
mass of his artillery in order to contribute most to a successful issue of the day, and he should never take
the responsibility of thus massing his artillery without previous orders from the commanding general.

CONCLUSION.

I am constrained to recapitulate the principal facts which may be regarded as fundamental in war.
War in its ensemble is not a science, but an art. Strategy, particularly, may indeed be regulated by fixed
laws resembling those of the positive sciences, but this is not true of war viewed as a whole. Among other
things, combats may be mentioned as often being quite independent of scientific combinations, and they
may become essentially dramatic, personal qualities and inspirations and a thousand other things
frequently being the controlling elements. The passions which agitate the masses that are brought into
collision, the warlike qualities of these masses, the energy and talent of their commanders, the spirit, more
or less martial, of nations and epochs,13—in a word, every thing that can be called the poetry and
metaphysics of war,—will have a permanent influence on its results.

Shall I be understood as saying that there are no such things as tactical rules, and that no theory of

tactics can be useful? What military man of intelligence would be guilty of such an absurdity? Are we to
imagine that Eugene and Marlborough triumphed simply by inspiration or by the superior courage and
discipline of their battalions? Or do we find in the events of Turin, Blenheim, and Ramillies maneuvers
resembling those seen at Talavera, Waterloo, Jena, or Austerlitz, which were the causes of the victory in
each case? When the application of a rule and the consequent maneuver have procured victory a hundred
times for skillful generals, and always have in their favor the great probability of leading to success, shall
their occasional failure be a sufficient reason for entirely denying their value and for distrusting the effect
of the study of the art? Shall a theory be pronounced absurd because it has only three-fourths of the whole
number of chances of success in its favor?

The morale of an army and its chief officers has an influence upon the fate of a war; and this seems to

be due to a certain physical effect produced by the moral cause. For example, the impetuous attack upon a
hostile line of twenty thousand brave men whose feelings are thoroughly enlisted in their cause will

13 The well-known Spanish proverb. He was brave on such a day, may be applied to nations as to individuals. The French at Rossbach were not
the same people as at Jena, nor the Prussians at Prentzlow as at Dennewitz.

31

produce a much more powerful effect than the attack of forty thousand demoralized or apathetic men
upon the same point.

Strategy, as has already been explained, is the art of bringing the greatest part of the forces of an army

upon the important point of the theater of war or of the zone of operations.

Tactics is the art of using these masses at the points to which they shall have been conducted by

well-arranged marches; that is to say, the art of making them act at the decisive moment and at the
decisive point of the field of battle. When troops are thinking more of flight than of fight, they can no
longer be termed active masses in the sense in which I use the term.

A general thoroughly instructed in the theory of war, but not possessed of military coup-d’œil,

coolness, and skill, may make an excellent strategic plan and be entirely unable to apply the rules of
tactics in presence of an enemy: his projects will not be successfully carried out, and his defeat will be
probable. If he be a man of character, he will be able to diminish the evil results of his failure, but if he
lose his wits he will lose his army.

The same general may, on the other hand, be at once a good tactician and strategist, and have made

all the arrangements for gaining a victory that his means will permit: in this case, if he be only moderately
seconded by his troops and subordinate officers, he will probably gain a decided victory. If, however, his
troops have neither discipline nor courage, and his subordinate officers envy and deceive him,14 he will
undoubtedly see his fine hopes fade away, and his admirable combinations can only have the effect of
diminishing the disasters of an almost unavoidable defeat.

No system of tactics can lead to victory when the morale of an army is bad; and even when it may be
excellent the victory may depend upon some occurrence like the rupture of the bridges over the Danube at
Essling. Neither will victories be necessarily gained or lost by rigid adherence to or rejection of this or
that manner of forming troops for battle.

These truths need not lead to the conclusion that there can be no sound rules in war, the observance of

which, the chances being equal, will lead to success. It is true that theories cannot teach men with
mathematical precision what they should do in every possible case; but it is also certain that they will
always point out the errors which should be avoided; and this is a highly-important consideration, for
these rules thus become, in the hands of skillful generals commanding brave troops, means of almost
certain success.

The correctness of this statement cannot be denied; and it only remains to be able to discriminate

between good rules and bad. In this ability consists the whole of a man’s genius for war. There are,
however, leading principles which assist in obtaining this ability. Every maxim relating to war will be
good if it indicates the employment of the greatest portion of the means of action at the decisive moment
and place. In Chapter III. I have specified all the strategic combinations which lead to such a result. As
regards tactics, the principal thing to be attended to is the choice of the most suitable order of battle for
the object in view. When we come to consider the action of masses on the field, the means to be used may
be an opportune charge of cavalry, a strong battery put in position and unmasked at the proper moment, a
column of infantry making a headlong charge, or a deployed division coolly and steadily pouring upon
the enemy a fire, or they may consist of tactical maneuvers intended to threaten the enemy’s flanks or
rear, or any other maneuver calculated to diminish the confidence of the adversary. Each of these things

14The unskillful conduct of a subordinate who is incapable of understanding the merit of a maneuver which has been ordered, and who will
commit grave faults in its execution, may produce the same result of causing the failure of the plans of an excellent commander.

32

may, in a particular case, be the cause of victory. To define the cases in which each should be preferred is
simply impossible.

If a general desires to be a successful actor in the great drama of war, his first duty is to study

carefully the theater of operations, that he may see clearly the relative advantages and disadvantages it
presents for himself and his enemies. This being done, he can understandingly proceed to prepare his base
of operations, then to choose the most suitable zone of operations for his main efforts, and, in doing so,
keep constantly before his mind the principles of the art of war relative to lines and fronts of operations.
The offensive army should particularly endeavor to cut up the opposing army by skillfully selecting
objective points of maneuver; it will then assume, as the objects of its subsequent undertakings,
geographical points of more or less importance, depending upon its first successes.

The defensive army, on the contrary, should endeavor, by all means, to neutralize the first forward

movement of its adversary, protracting operations as long as possible while not compromising the fate of
the war, and deferring a decisive battle until the time when a portion of the enemy’s forces are either
exhausted by labors, or scattered for the purpose of occupying invaded provinces, masking fortified
places, covering sieges, protecting the line of operations, depots, &c.

Up to this point every thing relates to a first plan of operations; but no plan can provide with certainty
for that which is uncertain always,—the character and the issue of the first conflict. If your lines of
operations have been skillfully chosen and your movements well concealed, and if on the other hand your
enemy makes false movements which permit you to fall on fractions of his army, you may be successful
in your campaign, without fighting general battles, by the simple use of your strategic advantages. But if
the two parties seem about equally matched at the time of conflict, there will result one of those
stupendous tragedies like Borodino, Wagram, Waterloo, Bautzen, and Dresden, where the precepts of
grand tactics, as indicated in the chapter on that subject, must have a powerful influence.

If a few prejudiced military men, after reading this book and carefully studying the detailed and

correct history of the campaigns of the great masters of the art of war, still contend that it has neither
principles nor rules, I can only pity them, and reply, in the famous words of Frederick, that “a mule which
had made twenty campaigns under Prince Eugene would not be a better tactician than at the beginning.”

Correct theories, founded upon right principles, sustained by actual events of wars, and added to

accurate military history, will form a true school of instruction for generals. If these means do not produce
great men, they will at least produce generals of sufficient skill to take rank next after the natural masters
of the art of war.

33

Königgrätz

by Samuel J. Lewis

I

The three wars won by the Prussian Army from

1

8

6

4

to 18

7

1 led to the widespread emulation of
Prussian military institutions by armies around the world. Some Prussian traits like spiked helmets were
ephemeral (as was the Prussian state itself soon to disappear). Other traits, however, such as the General
Staff system and national military service through conscription, would become, at least for several
decades, fixtures of Western military culture and, in some cases, institutions that we live with today. For
the last several weeks we have been looking at the European military revolution of the late eighteenth
and
early nineteenth centuries and its repercussions on the theory, art, and practice of war. It is in this broader
context and not that of an isolated development in northern Germany that we should examine the origins
of the Prusso-German military.1

Hajo Holborn suggested that four men created the Prussian military system: Frederick the Great,
Napoleon, Scharnhorst, and Gneisenau—a statement with which it is difficult to argue. Several weeks
ago, soon after we started this class, we observed how Frederick the Great advanced the military art of
the
limited “Cabinet,” or dynastic wars, to its highest form. For subsequent generations of the Prussian
officer corps, Frederick’s legacy was the example of victory secured against great adversity and of the
self-sacrifice required to attain that victory. Frederick also left the legacy of rigorous peacetime training,
escalating to the famous Autumn maneuvers.

2

1 Peter Paret, “Napoleon and the Revolution in War,” in Makers of Modern Strategy from Machiavelli to the Nuclear Age, edited by Paret
(Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1

9

86),

12

4.
2 Hajo Holborn, “The Prusso-German School: Moltke and the Rise of the General Staff,” in Makers of Modern Strategy, 281–84.
To Scharnhorst and Gneisenau, one must add the name of Clausewitz as another well-known Prussian military reformer. They and their
colleagues were revolutionary thinkers who, while motivated by the spirit of the French Revolution, were German nationalists and enemies of
France. Few of the reformers actually came from Prussia, and if noble, their families generally had only recently entered the ranks of the
nobility. (Two exceptions were von der Knesebeck and Ruehle von Lilienstern).

Gerhard Scharnhorst “was born a commoner in 17

5

5 in Hannover. He attended the Schaumberg-Lippe Military Academy and subsequently
served in the Hannoverian cavalry. Max Lehmann, Scharnhorst, 2

V

ols. (Leipzig: Hirzel, 1887); and Hans-Juergen Usczeck, Scharnhorst.
Theoretiker, Reformer Patriot, (East Berlin: Militaerverlag, 1972).

August W. A. von Gneisenau was born in 1760 in Saxony, where his father was an artillery officer. He was raised in humble circumstances by
relatives, attended Jesuit school in Wuerzburg, and later attended the University of Erfurt. He joined the Austrian Army in 1779 but later served in
Canada in an Ansbach regiment. He entered the Prussian Army in 1786, fought at Jena, and gained his reputation for defending the fortress of
Kolberg. A member of the reorganization committee, he performed diplomatic duties from 18

11

–1

3

, when he became Blücher’s chief of staff. He
was the Governor of Berlin in 1818, promoted to field marshal in 1825, and died in 1831. Hans Otto, Gneisenau Preussens unbequemer Patriot
(Bonn: Keil, 1979); Georg Heinrich Peltz arid Hans Delbrück, Das Leben des Feldmarschalls Grafen Neidhart von Gneisenau, 5 vols. (Berlin:
Reimer, 1864–80).

Carl von Clausewitz was born in the province of Brandenburg in 1780, the fourth son of a civil servant. He joined the Prussian light infantry in
1792 and fought against the new forces of the French Revolution. A follower of Scharnhorst, he became a key figure in the Prussian reform
effort. He is best known for his theoretical study, On War. In 1818, he became director of the War Academy and subsequently served as
inspector of artillery. Carl von Clausewitz, Hinterlassene Werke des Generals Carl von Clausewitz ueber Krieg and Kriegfuehrung,

10

vols.

1

Even before Frederick’s death, however, the Prussian Army began to show signs of deterioration, a
process that was still evident in 1806, when Napoleon defeated the Prussians at the Battle of
Jena-Auerstadt. That humiliation led Prussia into an era of reform that was not only military, but social
and economic in nature as well. In this respect, the evolution of the Prussian military system was a legacy
of the French Revolution, introduced by the harshest of the Prussian Army’s taskmasters, the Emperor
Napoleon.

The tactical methods used by France’s revolutionary armies were actually well known in the Prussian
military, with the French Army regulations being translated into German as early as 1801–02. Following
the defeat of 1806, Scharnhorst and his followers dutifully altered Prussian Army regulations to conform
to the successful French tactics. That proved relatively simple, as did the copying of the French corps
organization. Altering doctrine for the officer corps, however, which meant changing thought patterns and
behavior, proved nearly impossible. The old officer corps had been schooled to drill a mercenary army in
the minutia of Fredrician linear tactics. Now, they were being asked to make independent tactical
decisions and to do so while leading citizen-soldiers who, given Prussia’s half-feudal monarchy, would
have little desire to be in an army that only months before could be characterized as a penal institution.3

Once again, Napoleon provided the solution, by limiting the size of the Prussian Army after Jena-
Auerstadt to a mere 42,000 and leaving a large and conspicuous occupation force in Prussia. The small
size of the army assisted the reformers in purging the officer corps of its dead wood, while the occupation
awakened German nationalism.

The cornerstone of the Prussian military system was the Military Law of 1814, drafted by
Scharnhorst’s disciple, Herman von Boyen.4 Throughout the remainder of the century, most European
states used conscription, but it was basically conscription of the poor, since the wealthy could provide
either a substitute or money in lieu of service. What made the Prussian system unique was that it drafted
males from all classes. In the traditional central European pattern, units were organized on a territorial
basis, with men from the same province serving in the same unit. Prussians served for three years in the
army (two years after 1834), after which they were in reserve status for two years and subsequently could
be called up to serve in the Landwehr. The Prussian reformers designed the Landwehr to be an integral
part of the mobilized Field Army, but following the failed Revolution of 1848, the army’s senior leaders
sought to restrict the Landwehr to a purely subsidiary role. This was motivated both by a desire for
improved efficiency and conservative opposition to the Landwehr. This struggle led to the Prussian

(Berlin: Duemmler, 1832–37); On War translated and edited by Michael Howard, Peter Paret, and Bernard Brodie (Princeton, NJ: Princeton
University Press, 1976); and Paret, CIausewitz and the State (New York: Oxford University Press, 1976).

Karl Friedrich von dem Knesebeck was born on 5 May 1768 on the family estate in Brandenburg. He entered the army in 1782 and distinguished
himself in the Rhineland campaign against the French. He accompanied Gneisenau in the retreat from Auerstedt, serving the remainder of the war
as liaison officer to the Russian field army. During the wars of liberation, he served as advisor to the king. Von dem Knesebeck retired in 1831.
Eugen von dem Knesebeck, Eine Diplomatische Trilogie aus dem Leben Karl Friedrich von dem Knesebeck (Berlin, 1879).

Johann Ruehle von Lilienstein was the son of a Prussian officer born in Berlin on 16 April 1780. He retired in 1811 to the family estate but in
18

13

joined Blücher’s staff. He became army chief of staff in 1822.

3 Paret, Yorck and the Era of Prussian Reform (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1966); C. de la roche-Aymon, Des troupes Legeres
(Paris: Maginel, Anselin, Rochard, 1817).
4 Leopold Hermann L. von Boyen was born on 20 June 1771 in East Prussia, the son of a senor judicia1 official. He entered the Prussian Army at
the age of thirteen. Later he studied under Kant at the University of Königsberg. He was wounded at Auerstedt and was later on the
Reorganization Committee. In 1812, he performed secret diplomatic missions and, in 1814, became minister of war. A victim of political
reaction, he spent the years from 1819 to 1841 in private life. In the latter year, he once again became minister of war. He died on 15 February
1848 as a field marshal. Hermann von Boyen, Denkuerdigkeiten und Erinnerungen I 771–1813, 2 vols. (Stuttgart: Lutz, 1899); and Friedrich
Meinecke, Das Leben des Generalfeld-marschalls Herman von Boyen, 2 vols. (Stuttgart: Cotta, 1895–99).

2

constitutional crisis of the early 1860s, which saw the emergence of Otto von Bismarck and a
conservative victory. That political controversy and its implications lie beyond the scope of this paper.
The practical military result, however, was basically the doubling of the Field Army and the reform of the
reserves, which allowed for the victories from 1864 through 1871.5

Even with the modification of the Prussian reformers’ earlier law, Prussia had taken the implications
of the French Revolution further than any other state. Military service in Prussia was the most democratic
in Europe. The irony of this was of course that Prussia lagged far behind its western neighbors in the
evolution of the other democratic institutions. This, then, the development of universal male military
service based upon conscription, was one of the cornerstones of the Prussian military system of the
nineteenth century. What was needed, however, was an institution to organize and direct the new mass
army—that institution was the General Staff.

II

The German General Staff had its origins in Frederick the Great’s Quartermaster General Staff. In an
age of limited literacy, Frederick required a group of intelligent and literate officers to reconnoiter march
routes and bivouac sites and perform adjutant duties. In 1787, these men received their own distinctive
uniforms. In 1803, Christian von Massenbach6 reorganized the department, creating three branches
responsible for operations: west, south, and east. He named Scharnhorst as branch chief for the western
theater. In peacetime during the summer months, the officers assigned to each branch reconnoitered, and
often mapped, march routes in the theater for which they were responsible. This system could not assist
the antiquated Prussian Army in 1806, but it survived the purge following the defeat of Jena-Auerstedt,
and Scharnhorst built upon this structure to create the modern General Staff.

The Prussian General Staff system always remained elitist. It invariably consisted of a very small
number of combat arms officers who had passed rather difficult examinations. A cabinet order of 29
December 1809 stipulated that these officers must rotate from staff to line positions to ensure that they
would remain practical soldiers and not militarized clerks. The reformers transformed a Berlin military
school, later called the War Academy, into a school specifically designed to educate general staff officers.

The immediate problems that faced the Prussian Army largely shaped the form that the General Staff
system would take. The first requirement was a centralized planning center, which subsequently became
the Grossergeneralstab. The second requirement was for general staff officers to serve with headquarters
down to corps level, what became known as the Truppengeneralstab. The chiefs of staff in this second
category basically served as deputies and advisors to their commanders. Some of those commanders, and
particularly those of the other small German states, subsequently allied with Prussia but remained
relatively unfamiliar with the new form of warfare institutionalized by the French Revolution. Those
chiefs of staff, therefore, were also specially trained technical advisors to their commanders. Naturally,
the personalities of the commander and his chief of staff would prove to be of decisive importance—the
two had to function as one. For that reason, a successful matching of commander and chief of staff was
seldom broken up in wartime. Hence began the succession of successful teams or “marriages”: Blücher
and Gneisenau; Frederick

III

and Blumenthal; Hindenburg and Ludendorff; and Kleist and Zeitzler, to
name but a few. Needless to say, there were teams that did not function well and several “marriages” led

5 Renè de l’Homme de Courbiere,Die Preussische Landwehr in ihrer Entwicklung von 1815 bis zur Reorganisation von 1859 (Berlin: E. S.
Mittler, 1867); Michael Howard, “William I and the Reform of the Prussian Army,” in A Century of Conflict,, edited by M. Gilbert (London:
Hamish-Hamilton, 1966), 90–103; and Walter Goerlitz, History of the German General Staff 1657–1945, translated by Brian Battershaw
(NewYork: Frederick A. Praeger, 1965), 15–49.
6 Christian von Massenbach was born on 16 April 1758 in Schmalkalden. Educated in a Stuttgart military academy, he entered the Wuertemburg
Army in 1778. He switched over to the Prussian Army in 1782, and his publications led to him becoming tutor to Prince Ludwig. He served on
the Generalquartiermeister staff during the wars of 1787 and 1792–95. He was senior staff officer to Prince von Hohenlohe in the Jena-Auerstedt
campaign, after which he was tried and imprisoned. He died on 21 November 1827.

3

to rather quick annulments, but more often than not, the chief of staff simply soldiered on, looking
forward to his next assignment if, indeed, he did not particularly like working for his commander.
Although it was apparently never officially sanctioned, the notion of “co-responsibility” developed
whereby, if the chief of staff objected to a command decision, he had the right to enter his written
objections in the war diary. In point of fact, that rarely happened.7

The years of peace from 1815 to 1864 saw the evolution of both the Prussian Army and its small
corps of General Staff officers. The Greater General Staff remained one department of the Ministry of
War, but its role in the eventuality of war remained undefined. Its officers devoted most of their time to
mapping, observing foreign armies, and planning for both deployment and mobilization. Staff officers on
field unit staffs performed those same duties at their level. Within the army staff, officers were regarded
as the commander’s “helpers.” General staff officers advised the commander and issued his written orders
to the subordinate units. Whether issued on paper or verbally, they were mission-type orders, informing
the subordinate in general what was to be accomplished and giving him the maximum amount of freedom
to execute it. Over the last several decades, Anglo-Saxon military writers have dubbed this system
Auftragstaktik, although that word was not part of the German military vocabulary before 1945. The
Prusso-German Army always aimed at keeping the staff as small as possible. It also attempted to keep
paperwork to a minimum, for the purpose of reducing friction and misunderstanding. The aim of the
General Staff system was to provide the commander with several skilled helpers to free him to devote his
time and energy to the most important matters.8

Regimental commanders recommended officers for general staff training when they were senior
lieutenants, around the age of thirty-two. The latter had the right to decline this honor. During the course
of the three-year instruction at the War Academy, several candidates were often sent back to their
regiments. It also was theoretically possible that after finishing the course, a candidate would not
successfully pass his probationary period and subsequently not enter the General Staff corps. Failure to
advance successfully to the General Staff corps, however, did not damage an officer’s career. Instruction
at the War Academy always aimed at the practical aspects of operations, making an estimation of the
situation (Lagebeurteilung), map reading, terrain studies, war gaming, drawing the order of battle, and
mobilization and deployment plans, and, of course, writing orders. The War Academy did not study
strategy or address technological advances. One senior Prussian staff officer described other required
skills of a staff officer as follows:

He must keep up his practice on the handling of the different arms; he must train himself
to be a quick and untiring rider; he must have an eye for taking in at a glance a correct
view of the general state of things; he must write clearly, be a good draughtsman, and if
possible a practical telegraphist. Finally, by keeping himself constantly in contact with
troops, he should not lose his sense of comradeship with them or their wants; a frequent
return to regimental duty will, in this respect, refresh his knowledge, and is consequently
most desirable.9

Entrance into the General Staff corps offered the possibility of more rapid promotion, challenging and
demanding work, contacting the ruling elite in Germany, and the probability of developing ulcers—
known within the army as “General Staff Officers’ Stomach.” By the end of the century, small private
schools coached lieutenants for a fee to prep them for their examinations.

7 Heinz Helmert, “Zu den Ursachen der militaerischen Siege Preussens in den Kriegen von 1864, 1866, und 1870/71,” Zeitschrift fuer
Militaergeschichte, vol. 6 (1967), 5–22; Paul Bronsart von Schellendorf, The Duties of The General Sniff translated by W. A. H. Hare (London:
Her Majesty’s Stationery Office, n.d.); W. O. Shanahan, Prussian Military Reforms, 1786–1813 (New York: Columbia University Press, 1945);
and Goerlitz, op. cit.
8 The same sources as previous note; see page 8 in Bronsart von Schellendorf.
9 Bronsart von Schellendorf, op. cit.

4

III

Although several major developments in the Prusso-German military system clearly originated during
the French Revolution and the Napoleonic Wars, the name most associated with its nineteenth-century
victories is that of Helmuth von Moltke, chief of the General Staff from 1857 to 1888. He was born in
October 1800 in the small north German state of Mecklenburg-Schwerin to a minor noble family. His
father soon transferred to the Danish Army, and young Helmuth consequently attended the Danish cadet
school in Copenhagen. Much has been suggested on the harshness of that education and the poverty of the
von Moltke family. Nevertheless, it should be remembered that the Danish cadet school was scarcely
different from the other military academies that rimmed the Baltic at the time. In addition, von Moltke’s
father did not have such a lackluster career, retiring as a lieutenant general in the Danish Army. Helmuth
von Moltke served three years in the Danish Army, but in 1822 accepted a commission in a Prussian
infantry regiment. By 1832, he had graduated from the War Academy and entered the General Staff,
working in the topographical office.10

In 1835, he and another captain began what was supposed to be a six-month visit to Istanbul, but what
turned into a four-year tour as military advisors to the Ottoman Empire. Moltke accompanied the Ottoman
forces in campaigns against the Kurds, and in 1839, he was present at the battle of Nisib against
Mohamed Ali (the governor of Egypt). His experiences and observations survive as Brief aus der Tuerki,
a book of travel letters periodically reprinted, which a number of literary critics still regard as a classic of
German prose. The book reveals its author as a keen observer of high intellect, with a wry sense of
humor. He also proved to be surprisingly high minded, his letters revealing little if any religious, race, or
class hatred. At this time, he was still attempting to translate Gibbon’s Decline and Fall of the Roman
Empire from English into German to supplement his meager income. That publication never came to
fruition, and he gradually gave up his literary efforts. Nevertheless, it is clear that Moltke was not a
typical European officer, although like his colleagues, he was a conservative and royalist. The public
Moltke was usually silent, showing no feeling whatsoever, although each small gesture or saying in a
moment of crisis was calculated to have a specific effect. That is one of the reasons why his writings are
important. They are one of the only tools available to understand the man.

Until 1857 von Moltke alternated between staff positions and adjutant duties to various Hohenzollern
princelings, spending little if any time with troop units. His closeness to the Royal family undoubtedly
influenced his being named chief of the General Staff in 1857. Gunther Rothenberg maintains that Moltke
was not a significant military theorist but merely a grammarian of warfare. One must confess that he,
indeed, did not publish his views, like Jomini and Mahan, and that what remains of his military thought
lies buried in his official and unofficial working papers, the observations of his colleagues, and his actual
campaigns. Furthermore, he himself repeatedly stated that war was an art rather than a science and hence
exempt from general rules. He was greatly influenced by Clausewitz’ writing, frequently borrowing his
analogies. Moltke’s legacy is therefore that of a practitioner rather than that of a publicist. In addition,
Moltke should not be viewed as an isolated individual but as a vital transitional figure of the Prussian
General Staff, who carefully built upon the work of his predecessors.11

The period from 1815 to 1870 saw Western Europe change drastically as populations increased and
the Industrial Revolution began to alter the face of Europe. As European society changed, the patterns of
European warfare would change too. Many of these changes developed slowly, such as the expansion of
the battlefield as a result of larger armies, the increased lethality of weaponry, and the military use of the
railroad and telegraph. The Prussian Army, like the other western armies, fitfully attempted to grapple

10 Eberhard Kessel, editor, Moltke Gespraeche (Hamburg: Hanseatische Verlagsanstalt, 1940), 221–29; Moltke (Stuttgart: K. F. Koehler Verlag,
1957), 25–110; and Goerlitz, op. cit.
11Moltke, Briefe aus der Tuerki. Rothenberg, “Moltke, Schlieffen, and the Doctrine of Strategic Envelopment,” in Makers of Modern Strategy,
296–302; Daniel J. Hughes. Moltke on the Art of War, Selected Writings (Novato, California: Presidio Press, 1993), 1–19; and Goeriitz, op. cit.

5

with the dilemmas of technological change. One thing is certain, and that is that no European state,
certainly not Prussia, fully mastered the emerging technology. Moltke’s predecessor in 1855 directed the
General Staff to undertake the first study of European railway capacities. Thereafter, railroads figured
prominently in deployment plans and became an integral part of General Staff training. In the 1840s, the
Prussian Army adopted one of the early primitive breech-loading rifles. This “needle gun” gave the
Prussian infantry a great firepower advantage over the Austrians in 1866, but in 1870, that advantage
rested with the French infantry in the Franco-Prussian War. Prussian artillery proved inferior to that of the
Austrians in 1866, superior to the French in 1870. In short, no one side possessed a technological
advantage across the board.

To Moltke and several other senior officers, it was clear that it was becoming increasingly difficult to
command and control corps and armies. Moltke became more and more concerned with the increasing
size of military formations and armies. One could not move more than one corps on a road on the same
day, and the availability of roads dwindled as corps converged. The massing of one’s corps in the
traditional Napoleonic form before battle created enormous problems, particularly in the area of logistics.
In addition, a massed army could not maneuver rapidly, but only slowly march across fields.
Disassembling the massed army, particularly in the face of an enemy army, would be highly dangerous.
In 1865, von Moltke in all probability was already thinking of violating one of the major tenets of
Napoleonic success (as preached by the high priest Jomini), the massing of all available troops before the
battle. Moltke still desired to concentrate all his forces on the battlefield, but during the battle and not
beforehand. He concluded that the increased size of armies, coupled with large-scale deployment by
railroad, allowed for external concentration of forces on the battlefield rather than fighting on interior
lines.12

IV

In 1864, Prussia joined Austria in declaring war against Denmark over the provinces of Schleswig
and Holstein. The Prussian forces were commanded by the old and incompetent Field Marshal Wrangel.
The king soon relieved him and his chief of staff, naming Prince Frederick Charles as the new
commander and asking Moltke to serve as his provisional chief of staff.13 Their successful assault on the
Dueppel fortifications helped lead to the rapid end of the war. This was the opening round over whether
Austria or Prussia would unify Germany. Over the next two years, the two states diplomatically feuded
over Schleswig and Holstein, the cacophony usually orchestrated by Chancellor Otto von Bismarck.14

In 1860, Moltke and his deputies examined the Austrian threat and resolved that Austria’s Bohemian
Salient threatened Silesia and, in addition, could rapidly reinforce its ally Saxony, thus threatening Berlin.
Moltke decided, therefore, to adopt a defensive plan and threaten the flank of a possible Austrian
offensive. Beginning in 1865, Bismarck sought to gain the neutrality of France and Russia, a demarche
that would free additional Prussian forces, giving Moltke numerical parity with Austria. Moltke’s
operational plan remained defensive, but allowed for an early offensive to eliminate Saxony, similar to
Frederick the Great’s opening gambit in l756.15 By February 1866, Bismarck’s diplomatic offensive
convinced Moltke that a war with Austria was impending. He concluded that rapid Prussian mobilization

12 Rothenberg, op. cit.; see also Arden Bucholz, Moltke, Schlieffen and Prussian War Planning (New York: Berg, 1991); and Goerlitz, op. cit.
13 Friedrich H. E. Graf von Wrangel was born on 13 April 1784 in Stettin, the son of a colonel from an old Baltic aristocratic family. In 1796, he
entered a dragoon regiment and won the prestigious pour le meritè in 1807 at the Battle of Heilsberg. He advanced rapidly through 1815,
becoming a brigadier general in 1823. He was politically reliable in the postwar years but at the age of 80 proved incapable of effective
leadership. He held no commands after 1864 and died in Berlin on 1 November 1877. See Rudolf Thiel, Preussische Soldaten (Berlin: Paul Neff
Verlag, 1940), 367–76.
14 Otto Pflanze, Bismarck and the Development of Germany: The Period of Unification 1815–1871 (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press,
1963), 433–57; Theodor Fontane, Der Schleswig-Holsteinische Krieg im Jahre 1864 (Berlin: Decker, 1866); and German General Staff, Der
Deutsche-Daenische Krieg, 1864, 2 vols. (Berlin: E. 5. Mittler, 1886).
15 Craig, 28–30.

6

7

would be the decisive factor. In April, he decided to use an offensive rather than a defensive plan,
accepting the inherent risk of spreading his forces along the 400-kilometer semicircle north of the
Bohemian Salient. He also recognized that Prussia possessed five major rail lines leading into the salient,
while Austria had only one. The Prussian Army could thus concentrate its full strength in three weeks, the
Austrians in six. Bismarck succeeded in isolating Austria by obtaining the neutrality of both France and
Russia. Then, Italy joined Prussia in the war, tying down additional Austrian forces and, with them,
Austria’s best general, Archduke Albert (the son of Napoleon’s nemesis Archduke Charles).16

It was clear that rapid mobilization and deployment would be of major importance. The king of
Prussia, however, who still sought to avoid war with Austria, disrupted Moltke’s plans by slowing the
mobilization. On 2 June 1866, three days before the mobilization was completed, the king announced that
the Prussian General Staff would henceforth be independent of the Ministry of War, making Moltke the
de facto field commander of the army. From his desk in Berlin, Moltke ordered three Prussian armies to
invade Saxony and move on the Bohemian Salient from three directions, all aimed at the crossroads at
Gitschin. Prussia mobilized some 355,000 men and deployed 254,000 against the Bohemian Salient.
Moltke joined the army in Bohemia, where Prussian railroads and telegraphs would be of no help.17

The king of Prussia selected his nephew, Prince Frederick Charles, to command the First Army. One
might mistake the prince for a daring cavalryman, but he was a serious professional who could be
meticulous to a fault. He was also a confident, energetic commander, popular with his soldiers, who
called him “the red prince” because of his beloved red hussar uniform. Most of the German states,
including Saxony, sided with Austria. A small Prussian army under General Herwarth von Bittenfeld, the
Elbe Army, received the task of occupying Saxony with three divisions, It, too, fell under the command of
the First Army.18

Crown Prince Frederick William (later Emperor Frederick III) commanded the Second Army in
Silesia. He was thirty-five years old, a handsome man distinguished by his full beard. Besides being a
capable field commander, he was a man of considerable intelligence and learning. His army fielded the I,
V, VI and Guard Corps. It had the difficult task of advancing through the treacherous mountain passes of
the Riesengebirge. The Second Army would have to send forces through each of the mountain passes, but
yet not allow the Austrians to concentrate decisively against any one of the columns.19

Military experts across Europe expected a rapid Austrian victory. Austria possessed 35 million people
to Prussia’s 18 million, while Austria’s army had had recent combat experience. The Prussian Army had
seen hardly any real combat in the previous fifty years. In addition, military experts viewed the Prussian
Army as a sort of large militia with funny hats. On paper, the Austrian army had some 850,000 men. In
reality, however, it could only mobilize about 528,000 and deploy only 320,000 against both Prussia and

16 Archduke Friedrich Rudolf Albrecht was born on 3 August 1817 in Vienna, the son of Austria’s distinguished commander of the same name.
Privately educated, he entered the army in 1837. A disciple of Radetzky, he distinguished himself in numerous battles in northern Italy. He
defeated the Italian Army at the Battle of Custozza on 23 June 1866. He attempted to reform the Austro-Hungarian Army after 1866 and died on
18 February 1895 in Arco in the Tyrol. Goerlitz, op. cit., 69–102; Craig, 2, 28–30; and Carl von Duncker, F. M. Erzherzog Albrecht (1897).
17 Goerlitz op. cit.; and Craig, 24–31.
18 Frederick Charles was born on 20 March 1828 in Berlin. He attended the cadet schools and spent most of his life in the army. He saw his first
combat as a captain in 1848 against fellow Germans. In 1858, he married Princess Marie Anne of Anhalt. His cool detachment and tactless
manner made him a difficult superior. He was nevertheless one of Prussia’s most successful field commanders. He commanded the Second Army
in France in 1870 and was promoted to field marshal on 28 October 1870. He died in Potsdam on 15 June 1885. His chief of staff was General
Konstantin von Voigts-Rhetz, an intelligent, ambitious officer who was jealous of von Moltke. The quartermaster was General Wolf von
Stuelpnagel. See Wolfgang Foerster, Prinz Friedrich Karl von Preussen, 2 vols. (Stuttgart: Deutsche Verlag, 1910); and Craig, 18–22; and H.
Mueller-Bohn, Der Eiserne Prinz (1902).
19 The crown prince was born on 18 October 1831 in Potsdam. After attending the University of Bonn (the first Hohenzollern to attend a
university), he married Princess Victoria. A political liberal, he was frequently at odds with Otto von Bismarck. He reigned as Emperor Frederick
III for ninety-nine days before he died of throat cancer on 15 June 1888. His son William II succeeded him as emperor. His chief of staff was the
capable Leonhard von Blumenthal. W. Richter, Kaiser Friedrich III (1938); and Craig, 30–36.

8

Italy. Its soldiers tended to be poor and uneducated, speaking a polyglot of languages. Its officers were
loyal and gallant, but inclined to be self-willed and overly impetuous. Its major weaknesses were in staff
work and higher officer training. In 1854, the Prussian military attached to Vienna invited several
Austrian officers to play a war game. They turned him down, however, upon discovering that the purpose
of a war game was not to wager money. Things had not changed over the ensuing twelve years, and
unless an Austrian general brought his own maps of the theater, he would have to do without them.20

The Austrian commander in Bohemia was Ludwig August von Benedek, a Hungarian Protestant from
the lesser nobility. He was Austria’s most renowned and popular soldier, personally brave, loyal to
subordinates, liked and trusted by the common soldier. He at first turned down the command, stating that
he was sixty-two, in ill health and that all of his soldiering had been in Italy. In addition, he had never
held an independent command. Upon the emperor’s insistence, however, he accepted the command. In the
field, he displayed considerable confidence, but his letters to his wife from this period reflect a man
burdened by doubt and uncertainty.21

Both armies maintained that tactical victory would come through mass. For the Austrians, this would
be done through the battalion column, for the Prussians through the company column. The Prussian
companies, however, were more flexible than the Austrian battalions, and with their needle guns, Prussian
companies demonstrated remarkable firepower. In the first fire fights and meeting engagements, the
Prussian infantry easily demonstrated its superiority, even when handled poorly. In four days of fighting
on the frontier, Benedek lost 30,000 men killed, wounded, and captured. This had a telling effect on not
only the morale of the troops but on Benedek himself, who suggested that the emperor open negotiations.
The emperor replied via telegraph, inquiring if a battle had been fought yet.22

Both armies still maintained the cherished Napoleonic cavalry doctrine of massing horsemen in a
large cavalry reserve, which would deliver the coup de grâce at the decisive moment. In 1866, however,
that signified that the horsemen could not get into action. As a result, both armies had severe
reconnaissance problems. Benedek knew that three Prussian armies had invaded Bohemia, giving him the
advantage of interior lines, but he could only move his large army north towards Josephstadt with one
railway, which slowed his movement to a crawl. Benedek’s army contacted the Prussian First Army and
the Elbe Army on 2 July 1866, about eight miles north of the town of Königgrätz. Interior lines are only
an advantage if one attacks and defeats the opponent before he has an opportunity to converge. Benedek,
however, decided to defend the Bistritz River, digging field fortifications and hoping that the Prussian
First Army of Prince Frederick Charles would attack him. Benedek proved indecisive, living from
moment to moment, unaware of the location of the Prussian Second Army and still toying with the idea of
launching an attack against Frederick Charles.23

On the evening of 2 July, Prince Frederick Charles resolved to attack Benedek with his own First
Army and Herwarth von Bittenfeld’s Elbe Army and had his staff issue the orders. Just as importantly,
however, he sent a message to the commander of the Second Army, Crown Prince Frederick, stating his
intentions and requesting his support. Moltke was awakened at 2200 in Gitschen and informed of the
situation. He suspected that Benedek’s entire army was massed behind the Bistritz River instead of just
the four corps thus far identified and consequently feared that Frederick Charles’ frontal attack would fail.

20 Geoffrey Wawro, The Austro-Prussian War, Austria’s War with Prussia and Italy in 1866 (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1996), 6–
35; Prinz Kraft zu Hohenlohe-Ingelfingen, Aus meinen Leben, 1848–71, 4 vols. (Berlin: E. S. Mittler, 1897–1908), vol.1, 296; and Craig, 5–16,
24–30.
21 Ludwig August von Benedek was born on 14 July 1804, the son of a doctor from Oedenburg, Hungary. At fourteen, he entered the Wiener-
Neustadt Military Academy. Later, he retired to Graz, where he died on 27 April 1881. His chief of staff was General Gideon Ritter von
Krismanic. Craig, 12–15 and Wawro, op. cit.
22 The following day the Emperor directed Benedek to relieve several generals, including his chief of staff, Craig, 20–22, 77–80; and Wawro, The
Austro-Prussian War, 124–80.
23 Goerlitz, op. cit., 86–89; and Craig, 50.

9

To change orders, however, would only lead to massive confusion. Therefore, in his own orders, he
confirmed Frederick Charles’ orders but directed the crown prince to strike the Austrian right flank with
the entire Second Army.24

Benedek had contemplated a withdrawal behind the Elbe River but feared being attacked by the
Prussians before he could get across. He decided that it would be better to fight on ground of his own
choosing. After the first shock of the power of the needle gun, Benedek resolved that its firepower could
be negated by placing his troops in field emplacements and allowing the Prussians to break against his
wall. He consequently fielded about 197,000 men and 770 guns in a well-fortified defensive position
running along the rolling hills above the Bistritz River, which was not a serious military obstacle. He kept
some 58,000 men in reserve. On the morning of 3 July 1866, a cold rain began that was to last throughout
the day, limiting observation of the battlefield on occasion. Benedek also received a new chief of staff in
the morning, a man he had never seen before. His former chief of staff stayed by his side through the day
but offered little counsel.

By 0730, the Austrian and Prussian artillery began to fire across the Bistritz Valley, and it was clear
the Prussian infantry was advancing on the Bistritz River. The Prussians had been up since 0400, having
obtained little sleep and probably no breakfast. The three Prussian divisions making the attack remained
pinned down along the Bistritz through the remainder of the day, taking heavy casualties from the superb
Austrian artillery. To the north, the Prussian 7th Division advanced and seized the Swiep Forest. The
Austrian commander in the area led seven battalions to drive the Prussian out. But the power of the needle
gun was too great. The Austrian commander fell and his seven battalions were largely destroyed. His
successor continued the attacks, and when his forces were used up, he began borrowing units from the
reserve. All told, the Austrians threw forty-nine battalions against the Swiep Forest, apparently without
Benedek’s knowledge. The Prussian infantry in the Swiep Forest only barely managed to hold out. Most
of their officers were killed or wounded. At one point, one Prussian soldier was heard to say that it would
all be OK, since the Austrians were only shooting at the lieutenants. Somehow, his attempt at humor was
lost on his comrades. By the early afternoon, ammunition was running short, and Prussian soldiers began
to search the dead for unspent rounds. By noon, the situation looked quite bleak for the Prussian infantry
along the Bistritz. Some small units began to retreat, and one general considered pulling his division back.
Help, however, was on the way.25

On the Austrian left flank, Herwarth von Bittenfeld’s Elbe Army made slow progress, but by 1500
had routed the Saxon Corps. On the right flank, the crown prince’s Second Army began to arrive as early
as 1200. The key blow fell at 1500, when the Prussian Guard Corps silently marched unseen through the
fog to storm the Heights of Chlum. Until that time, Benedek thought he was winning the battle and upon
hearing the news at first refused to believe it. Now, instead of winning the battle against a numerically
inferior force, he himself was outnumbered and threatened by an attack against his northern flank. Within
minutes, another report arrived, informing him of the rout of the Saxon Corps, signifying that he was
now threatened by a double envelopment.26

The specter of defeat awakened Benedek and brought forth his finest qualities. He soon discovered
that much of his reserve had been frittered away attacking the Swiep Forest. He took his remaining forces,
however, and launched several hammer blows to secure the withdrawal of his army. Indeed, some of the
heaviest fighting took place in those last hours. The Prussian Guard took heavy casualties, holding off
repeated Austrian attacks. Benedek managed to extricate most of his army. He had lost 5,600 killed, 7,500
wounded, 7,400 missing, and 22,000 captured. But in the end, faulty staff work betrayed the army again,

24 Craig, 80–86; and Thiel, Preussisthe Soldaten, 423–26.
25 Max Jaehns, Die Schlacht vom Koeniggraetz (Leipzig: Gruenow, 1876), 143; Craig, op. cit., 86–112; and Walter von Bremen, editor,
Denkwuerdigkeiten des Preussischen Generals der Infanterie Eduard von Fransecky (Bielefeld: Velhagen & Klasing, 1901).
26 Craig, 113–38; and Thiel, Preussische Soldaten, 426–28.

10

when troop units did not receive specific march routes for the retreat, and the Elbe fortress commanders
were not instructed to facilitate the withdrawal. This produced virtual anarchy at the Elbe crossing sites,
rendering the Austrian army incapable of further action. The Hapsburg emperor soon opened peace
negotiations.27

The Prussian armies did not pursue the Austrians. In all probability, the Prussians were too exhausted
to pursue, or perhaps Moltke realized that the external concentration of his three armies on the battlefield
had created an enormous traffic jam—“foot-lock,” if you will pardon the expression. Historians do not
know for certain why there was no pursuit. Later, when Moltke and his generals demanded a triumphant
march on Vienna, Bismarck overruled them, seeking to give Austria generous peace terms. Austria lost no
territories, except Venice (which went to Italy), but was henceforth excluded from German affairs. This
freed Prussia to form a unified Germany.28

The Battle of Königgrätz, or Sadowa as it is sometimes called, was the largest battle since 1813 on
the continent, with more than 400,000 men on the battlefield. The campaign lasted only seven weeks,
however, which limited the number of combat deaths and the spread of diseases, the real killer in
prolonged warfare. Europe’s military intelligentsia had difficulty explaining Prussia’s victory. Moltke had
broken several of Napoleon’s sacred commandments, at least as preached by his self-proclaimed
disciples. They concluded that Prussian strategy had been a sin and that Moltke had only been lucky.
They explained the victory as a triumph of the needle gun and its superior firepower. There were,
however, several more thoughtful observers. The Russian observer, General Dragomirov, downplayed the
role of the needle gun, saying that the decisive factor was the men who carried the needle gun. In like
fashion, France’s attaché, Baron Stoffel, stated that it was a victory of the nation in arms possessing a
superior form of high command. Colonel Stoffel believed the Prussians would have won even without the
needle gun. In Paris, however, few if any desired to heed his council.29

Following the end of hostilities, Bismarck expanded Prussia by creating the North German
Confederation, which further increased the size of the Prussian Army. The army also attempted to correct
several of its more glaring flaws. It reorganized the cavalry so that it would be able to perform better
reconnaissance. It also reformed the artillery, replacing the muzzle-loading smooth bores with breech-
loading Krupp guns, established an artillery school for uniform officer education, and decentralized its
guns.30

V

Otto von Bismarck desired a war with France to complete the unification of Germany under Prussia,
although the ostensible cause of the war was the possibility of a Hohenzollern prince becoming the king
of Spain. Through a cheap political trick, Bismarck managed to maneuver the vain and insecure Napoleon
III into declaring war on Prussia, making France appear the aggressor and driving the remaining German
states to Prussia’s side. Napoleon III’s rash decision left France isolated against the German states.
Prussia had even greater forces available in 1870 than in 1866, with an even more rapid mobilization
timetable. It had also overcome its grosser doctrinal deficiencies for the cavalry and artillery.

France in 1870 was even less prepared than Austria had been in 1866. The French had rejected the
idea of the nation in arms in favor of a professional long-service army. To flesh out the army, France
conscripted troops through a form of lottery, with the losers serving about seven years. Since the wealthy
could purchase substitutes, basically only the poor were drafted. Following Prussia’s victory over Austria,

27 Ibid., 139–66.
28 Thiel, Preussische Soldaten, 428–30; and Craig, 165–72.
29 Craig, 172–79.
30 Goerlitz, op. cit., 88–91; and Craig, 172–79.

11

Napoleon III attempted but failed to reform the army on the Prussian model, and a compromise in 1868
pleased no one. Service was reduced to five years, followed by four years in the reserve. The recreated
National Guard, however, required only two weeks annual training. At the outbreak of the war in 1870,
the half-million men of the National Guard remained untrained, under-equipped, and unorganized.31

French troops were brave and loyal, with many veterans in the ranks. Their Chassepot breech-loading
rifles gave them a firepower advantage over the Germans. The main weaknesses of the French Army were
in structure, organization, and officer education. French officers were experienced and well versed at the
company level, but staff work had not really progressed from the Napoleonic era. It was an officer corps
that still had literacy problems and was marked by a strain of anti-intellectualism. In many ways, the
officers’ experience in leading small columns against colonial peoples had hindered rather than helped the
development of their military skills. Whereas Prussian staff officers worked on planning and mobilization
through the year, the French Army would be mobilizing for the first time on the basis of the 1868
reforms. That mobilization produced widespread chaos, with many of the reservists never reaching their
units at all. One of the major problems was that French regiments hardly ever garrisoned the areas from
which they drew their reservists. Reservists from one Zouave regiment had to report to a depot in North
Africa before joining their unit in Alsace. Most French units deployed short of men, equipment, and food.
On paper, the French Army would win through mass, but in reality, the French military system of 1870
prohibited the use of mass at the strategic or operational level.

It lies beyond the scope of this study to examine the Franco-Prussian War in detail, so what follows is
a general overview of the course of the campaign. General Marie Macmahon commanded an army
of about 100,000 men near Strasbourg, General Achille Francois Bazaine an army of roughly 150,000
about Metz, and a Reserve Army of about 50,000 men assembled in the Chalons area. The French hoped
to advance on the Main River; but the rapid Prussian advance denied them that opportunity. The Prussians
massed thirteen corps, with some 475,000 men, along the Rhine by 1 August, allowing its three armies to
take the offensive. The first meeting engagements from 2–6 August established a certain pattern: Prussian
forces would encounter a French unit and attack. The French would shoot the Prussians to pieces but then
suffer heavy casualties to the Prussian artillery. Then, other Prussian units (often without orders) would
march for the sound of the fighting and outflank the French force. The French force would retire,
encountering increasing disorder.

By 6 August, General Macmahon had lost the Vosges defiles and decided to conduct a deep retreat to
Chalons. The Prussian crown prince’s Third Army followed as far as Toul. To the north, the Prussian
First and Second Armies crossed the Moselle unopposed and enveloped Bazaine’s army at Metz from the
south. In spite of the tactical errors and sometimes willful insubordination of his subordinates following
the battles of Mars-le-Tour, Vionville, Rezonville, Gravelotte, and St. Privat, General Bazaine managed
to retire the French army to the Metz fortifications. By 23 August, Prince Frederick Charles’ army
completed the investment of Metz in what would prove to be a long siege.

On 16 August, Napoleon III joined Macmahon’s army at Chalons. There, the two men soon decided
to take their 130,000 soldiers through Rheims in an attempt to relieve Bazaine’s army in Metz. They got
as far as Beaumont sur Meuse, where the new Fourth Prussian Army under Prince Albert of Saxony
checked their advance. Retreating north to Sedan, they found themselves trapped between neutral
Belgium to the north and the Prussian crown prince’s Third Army to the south. Macmahon was wounded
on 1 September and replaced by General Auguste Alexandre Ducrot, who attacked the Germans in an

31 Otto Pflanze, Bismarck and the Development of Germany. vol. I, The Period of Unification. I815–1871 (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University
Press, 1990), 446–506; Michael Howard, The Franco-Prussian War (London and New York: Routledge, 1988), 1–63; and Goerlitz, op. cit.,
88–91.

12

attempt to escape the trap. That attempt ended in a bloody failure, and the following day, Napoleon III
and some 83,000 men surrendered in Sedan.32

Moltke had eliminated France’s two armies and captured Napoleon III, which ordinarily would
signify that the war was won. But on 4 September, the Third Republic was proclaimed in Paris, and the
French vowed to continue the struggle. This forced Moltke to advance on Paris, surround it, and wait for
someone to surrender. He also had to deploy armies to intercept any relief attempts, for in unoccupied
zones, Frenchmen were flocking to the colors, while guerrilla warfare had broken out in the German rear
areas. To complicate matters further, Bismarck demanded that Paris be shelled, both to please the right-
wing German newspapers and in the fear of intervention from foreign powers. Prussian heavy guns finally
arrived, and a bombardment opened on 5 January 1871. Moltke, however, never attempted to launch a
ground attack against Paris’s fortifications and its 400,000 troops. Inside the capital, riots broke out as
food became scarce, and on 28 January, an armistice ended both the siege and the war.33

Following the Franco-Prussian War, most Western states adopted national military service through
conscription and one form or another of a general staff system. These steps may be viewed as extensions
from the changes brought about by the French Revolution and Industrial Revolution. European nations
would henceforth train and equip increasingly larger armies, armies that would be mobilized and
deployed by general staffs using railroads, telegraphs, and whatever other technological advances that
might become available.

France and Germany would set the example for the continental armies, both doubling the size of their
standing armies from 1870 to 1914. General staffs performed their newly developed military skills,
planning the deployment of large mass armies, uniformly trained and armed. This accelerated another
long-term trend in modern Western history—the transformation of the officer corps into a long-term
professional service class, with its own professional language, journals, values, and culture. That
corporate body grew increasingly conservative and estranged from the society around it, although it could
not remain immune from two of the dominant ideas of the late nineteenth century, nationalism and
imperialism. The Prussian victories from 1864 to 1871 confirmed the Napoleonic legacy: the cult of the
offensive, waged with the greatest possible force, and aimed towards a rapid decision to destroy the
enemy in a decisive battle.

As a result of the increased lethality of weapons, Moltke had earlier foreseen the danger of
conducting frontal attacks. German doctrine subsequently emphasized outflanking enemy positions. Not
even regulations, however, could negate the cult of the offensive, known within the officer corps as
Angriffshetze (attack mania). Moltke’s operational planning following 1879 was based upon the
assumption of war against France and Russia. The strategic nightmare of a two-front war had become
altogether too real. He planned for a defensive posture in the west and an Austro-German offensive in the
east. A siege mentality soon developed within the German military decision-making circle, which gave
rise to plans for preemptive offensives. Ultimately, Moltke could find no solution to Germany’s strategic
dilemma. In 1890, he made one of his last public appearances, warning the Reichstag that with the current
European alliances and force levels, no nation could win a war with a single decisive campaign. He stated
that the next war could last seven or thirty years, which would rend the fabric of European society. But if
anyone was listening to the old man, no one was able to rectify the situation, and certainly not the narrow
technicians who would follow in his wake.34

32 Pflanze, op. cit.; Howard, op. cit., 63–223; and Thiel, Preussische Soldaten, 430–55.
33 Pflanze, op. cit.; Howard, op. cit., 224–456; and Thiel, Preussische Soldaten, 430–55.
34 Rothenburg, “Moltke, Schlieffen, and the Doctrine of Strategic Envelopment,” 296–325; and Howard, “Men Against Fire,” in Makers of
Modern Strategy, 51–126.

13

• Command and General Staff Officer Course (CGSOC) Common Core

I
II
III
IV
V

The

1

81

2

Campaign

by Jonathan M. House

THE NAPOLEONIC THREAT

The French revolutionaries and their heir, Napoleon Bonaparte, not only posed a social-political
challenge to European monarchies but redrew the map of Europe, making the French Empire and its
satellites into an intolerable threat to the existing order. We have therefore come to regard Napoleon as
another Alexander the Great, a brilliant general with no sense of natural boundaries who went to war at
the least provocation until he overreached himself and was defeated. British propaganda at the time
portrayed him as the “Corsican Ogre,” and later the example of Adolf Hitler caused the popular mind to
regard the two dictators as identical bloodthirsty autocrats.1 By contrast, a group of ardent supporters of
the emperor have tried recently to portray Napoleon in a different light: a brilliant but increasingly
reluctant conqueror who was remarkably generous to his defeated foes, who wanted nothing more than to
perfect the French government and economy but could never get the monarchs of Europe to leave him in
peace. In December 1800, the British government and French royalists even attempted to assassinate
Bonaparte with the nineteenth century equivalent of an improvised explosive device, killing dozens but
leaving their target unharmed.2

The truth undoubtedly lies somewhere between these two images. For example, Prussia forced war on
a reluctant Napoleon in 1806, and suffered the consequences. Similarly, the Russian court encouraged
Tsar Alexander to violate his 1807 agreements with the French emperor. Since both emperors had come
to power through violence, neither could afford to appear weak to his compatriots. Alexander first refused
to marry his sister to the Corsican upstart, and then took offense when Napoleon married an Austrian
archduchess instead!

3

On the other hand, Napoleon’s continued sponsorship of an independent Poland
(the Grand Duchy of Warsaw) was a clear threat to Russian imperial rule. Not only did the Poles provide
ardent troops to support the emperor, but the duchy seemed to be a convenient lever to pressure Russia
by encouraging Polish nationalism.

The primary cause of renewed conflict in 1812, however, was enforcement of the Continental
System. Britain was the center of gravity of Napoleon’s enemies, the organizer and financier of all the
allied coalitions against France. Yet, after Admiral Nelson’s defeat of the French-Spanish fleet at
Trafalgar in 180

5

, France had no chance to invade England and thereby confront its primary opponent
directly. Instead, Napoleon conceived of the Continental System, a sort of reverse blockade by which all
of Europe would refrain from trade with the British. This was Napoleon’s principal tool to weaken his
opponents,

1 See Steven Englund, “Napoleon and History,” The Journal of the Historical Society VI:1 (March 2006), 161–169.
2 See, for example, Michel Franceschi and Ben Weider, The Wars Against Napoleon: Debunking the Myth of the Napoleonic Wars (New York
and El Dorado Hills, CA: Savas Beatie, 2008) and Ben Weider, La Sagesse de Napoleon (Ottawa: Editions Lemeac, 1983.) In the interests of
full disclosure, let me note that I am a fellow of the International Napoleonic Society, although I do not necessarily subscribe to all of Weider’s
revisionist ideas.
3 Franceschi and Weider, Wars Against Napoleon, 1

4

8–150.

1

yet he sometimes violated the rules himself, authorizing limited trade to obtain British gold. Tsar
Alexander had agreed to enforce this system as part of the 1807 Treaty of Tilsit. Quite apart from the
Russian nobility’s distaste for doing Napoleon’s bidding, however, such a blockade would have disrupted
Russia’s traditional trade with Britain, seriously damaging an already weak economy. On 31 December
1810, the tsar formally declared that Russia was no longer bound by the Continental System; the same
decree demanded that Napoleon renounce the creation of a Polish state.4 After eighteen months of
diplomatic maneuvering, France invaded Russia when Napoleon ran out of options.

THE 1812 CAMPAIGN

There are numerous historical parallels between the invasions of 1812 and 1941 (See Lesson H207
for the latter.) The first was the defining moment of the Imperial Russian Army, while the second became
the core experience of its successor, the Red Army. In each case, the invader sought in vain to overcome
the vast distances of European Russia by defeating the defending armies as far westward as possible,
while the defender was caught in the midst of mobilization. Napoleon’s and Hitler’s failure to accomplish
this made both the Imperial French and the Nazi German armed forces into the poster children of the
“Western way of war,” condemned to attrition when their enemies refused to accept defeat. Each invading
army was hobbled by logistical systems that forced repeated halts while the combat forces waited for
resupply. In both instances, Western observers and historians tended to explain failure in terms of the
severity of Russian weather and the mistakes of the invading commanders, downplaying the central role
of the Russian defenders. As a result, historians of both invasions usually focus on the actions of the
invaders rather than on the Russian response. The outline of this campaign is legendary, but the subject is
so important that the balance of this paper will elaborate on various aspects of the campaign, including
leadership, strategy, and maneuver.

Unfortunately for the Russian soldiers, 1812 found their country between generations of commanders.
A. A. Suvorov and most of the great leaders of the eighteenth century were dead before Bonaparte made
himself emperor. Mikhail Illarionovich Kutuzov, the man usually credited with victory, was sixty-seven
years old in 1812—he was crafty and cautious but too old for command, and in fact died after a brief
illness in April 1813. Kutuzov was in many ways an eighteenth century general, seeking to use maneuver
to preserve his force and avoid unnecessary battles. Tsar Alexander I suspected the old general of
involvement in his father’s downfall and death, but appointed him commander in August 1812 to satisfy
the popular clamor for a “Russian” general as opposed to officers of Baltic German name and origin.5

The best generals of the next generation were not only non-Russian but relatively young,
characteristics that encouraged jealousy and criticism among their peers and subordinates. Pyotr
Ivanovich Bagration, an ethnic Georgian, had served a brilliant apprenticeship under Suvorov but was
only forty-seven when he received a mortal wound while defending the Russian left at the battle of
Borodino (7 September 1812). Michael Barclay de Tolly was fifty-three years old, but the tsar had
promoted him so rapidly (from division commander in 1807 to minister of war in January 1810) that most
of the other generals were senior in service to him. He was a fourth-generation resident of Lithuania who
was raised by his uncle, a brigadier in the tsar’s army, but Barclay never lost the German accent of Riga,
causing many contemporaries to label him falsely as a “foreigner.”6 Both Kutuzov and Alexander found
Barclay a convenient scapegoat that allowed them to evade responsibility for their own decisions. The

4 Richard K. Riehn, 1812: Napoleon’s Russian Campaign (New York, etc: McGraw-Hill Publishing, 1990), 26. This magnificent study is a gold
mine of information not only about the campaign but also about the problems of Napoleonic tactics and logistics; much of the information
discussed below comes from it.
5 Roger Parkinson, The Fox of the North: The Life of Kutuzov, General of War and Peace. (New York: David Mckay Co. Inc., 1976), 117–120.
6 Michael Josselson and Diana Josselson, The Commander: A Life of Barclay de Tolly. (Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press, 1980), esp. 1–8,
72–73, 211–17.

2

fact that Alexander later recalled Barclay to field command demonstrates that, in the tsar’s opinion at
least, the brave Lithuanian had not failed in 1812.

In the two-and-a-half years before the French invasion, Barclay labored to bring the Russian army up
to the standard of Napoleonic France. He encouraged junior officers to take a greater interest in the
welfare of their men, oversaw three major troop levies to expand the army, chaired a complete revision of
Peter the Great’s 1716 military regulations, and introduced the corps level of command.7

Barclay also reached agreement with the tsar that, in the event of invasion, they must employ Fabian
tactics, avoiding decisive battle until Napoleon’s army was weakened by the sheer effort of penetrating
the vast Russian land mass. They correctly deduced that Napoleon could not defeat Russia unless the
Russian government accepted that defeat by diplomatic negotiations. The tsar made no secret of this
strategy, and in fact propounded it to the French ambassador, Armand de Caulaincourt, in an effort to
warn off Napoleon.

“If the Emperor Napoleon makes war on me,” the Tsar Alexander said to me, “it is possible, even
probable, that we shall be defeated, assuming that we fight. But that will not mean that he can
dictate a peace. The Spaniards have often been defeated; and they are not beaten, nor have they
submitted. But they are not so far away from Paris as we are, and have neither our climate nor our
resources to help them. We shall take no risks. We have plenty of room; and our standing army is
well organized, which means, as the Emperor Napoleon had admitted, that we need never accept a
dictated peace, whatever reverses we may suffer . . . I shall not be the first to draw my sword, but I
shall be the last to sheath it.”8

Yet, while Caulaincourt certainly reported this conversation to his master, the strategy was apparently
a closely-held secret in Russia itself. The initial dispositions of the Russian army seemed to anticipate
fighting close to the western boundaries of the empire. In practice, Napoleon advanced so rapidly that he
preempted the concentration of the three Russian field armies, almost necessitating a retreat. Not only
junior officers but even senior commanders such as Bagration were outraged when the Russian army
repeatedly failed to make a stand, allowing the invader to advance hundreds of kilometers into the
motherland. Tsar Alexander, as noted above, allowed first Barclay and then his successor, Kutuzov, to
take the blame for this unpopular policy.

Despite the tsar’s brave words, no Russian leader anticipated the true depths of the French invasion.
Out of a welter of possible contingency plans to deal with an invasion, Alexander had endorsed the
proposal of General Ernst von Phull, his military advisor. Phull proposed the dispersed deployment of the
Russian armies as a means of threatening the flanks of the French advance, a proposal that suggests
ignorance of the true scale of Napoleon’s invading army. Phull also envisioned that, as a fall-back
position, the two main Russian armies would unite at Drissa, a point that he hoped would cover the east-
west roads leading to both Moscow and St. Petersburg. Originally a Prussian staff officer, Phull intended
to make Drissa into a fortified camp in imitation of Frederick the Great’s similar expedient at Bunzelwitz
in 1761. Phull also cited the advantages of Wellington’s Torres Vedras defenses in Portugal. In theory,
such field fortifications could enable a numerically inferior force to halt further invasion by posing a
threat that no enemy dared bypass; in practice, the positions at Drissa were poorly sited and incomplete.9
Carl von Clausewitz visited the camp at the end of June and was dismayed to discover that the rear of the
camp was secured only by the Duna River. He communicated these concerns to the tsar, who toured the

7 Ibid., 77–84.
8 Armand de Caulaincourt,, Memoirs of General de Caulaincourt, Duke of Vicenza, 1812–1813. Ed. Jean Hanoteau, trans. Hamish Miles.
(London, Toronto, etc: Cassell and Company, Ltd, 1935), 69.
9 Riehn, 1812: Napoleon’s Russian Campaign, 35–36; Josselson, The Commander, 93–94, 101–4.

3

site on 8 July and reluctantly agreed that Drissa was indefensible. Meanwhile, however, Phull had
actually urged Barclay to retreat more quickly, in order to reach Drissa before the enemy!10

Phull’s faulty dispositions and various miscommunications between commanders, as well as the
interference of the tsar and his brother Constantine, all caused the Russian army to conduct an
unintentional but very effective delaying campaign. Kutuzov, appointed to replace Barclay on 20 August,
adopted his predecessor’s delaying tactics as a matter of policy, so that by the time of Borodino the two
sides were almost evenly matched.11

Much has been made of Napoleon’s repeated hesitations and less than brilliant command performance
during the 1812 campaign. It would be equally true to say that his failure depended upon the Russian
refusal to surrender and the French difficulties of supply. The latter problem was not, as sometimes
suggested, that the French lacked the supplies they needed, but rather that they experienced the same
problems as their opponents in terms of moving and distributing those supplies across the sparsely
populated, landlocked terrain of Russia. As early as 1807, Napoleon had recognized the need for
organized transportation units to distribute supplies to his increasingly large armies. By 1812, he had
seventeen “train” or support battalions totaling six-thousand heavy wagons and capable of carrying forty
days’ supply. However, the draft animals of these battalions suffered as heavily from the heat and dust of
Russia as did their cavalry cousins. The same conditions caused a steady wastage of stragglers. By 29
July, Napoleon had to pause to rest the troops and allow his supplies to catch up with his spearheads; by
that time he had already lost thirty-thousand troops and eighty-thousand animals without major combat.
By October the supply problem was far more acute.12

The Russians had their own supply problems. In particular, the initial supply dumps were located too
far to the west, resulting in the capture of at least one magazine and the forced destruction of several
others as the Russians retreated. Still, every step to the east lengthened the Imperial supply lines while
shortening those of its opponents.

The retreat from Moscow is usually told from the French point of view, without examining the
corresponding Russian problems. Suffice it to say that Kutuzov’s cautiousness, which had earlier
preserved the Russian army from destruction, now caused that army to allow its disorganized foe to
escape repeatedly. Even before Napoleon left Moscow, flanking forces under General Count Peter
Wittgenstein to the north and Admiral Pavel Tshitshagov to the south had virtually cut off the route of
retreat. On his way west, the French emperor showed occasional flashes of his old brilliance, such as
when he bluffed the Russians at Krasnoi in mid-November and escaped the trap at the Berezina River at
the end of the month. Of equal significance, however, were Kutuzov’s overcaution and the continued
disunity in the Russian command structure. These problems permitted the French to rescue a precious few
thousand disorganized troops, which provided the cadres for renewed armies in 1813 and 1814.

One final piece of good planning, probably on Kutuzov’s part, was to assign Carl von Clausewitz to
the Russian vanguard during the pursuit. Although his ignorance of the Russian language had frequently
limited his utility during the campaign, in the depths of winter Clausewitz was able to contact his
compatriot, General Graf Ludwig Yorck (usually referred to as von Yorck), the commander of the
Prussian contingent within Napoleon’s X Corps. At the end of December, Clausewitz and von Yorck
negotiated the Convention of Tauroggen, by which the Prussian contingent changed sides.13 This, plus the
foot dragging and eventual neutrality of Prince Karl von Schwartzenburg, leader of the Austrian

10 Carl von Clausewitz, La Campagne de 1812 en Russie, Trans. M. Bégouen. (Paris: Librairie Militaire R. Chapelot, 1900), 11–27.
11 Riehn, 1812: Napoleon’s Russian Campaign, 236–41.
12 Ibid., 139–51, 199–200.
13 Clausewitz, La Campagne en Russie, 187–201.

4

contingent, critically weakened the French Imperial forces at the end of the 1812 campaign and made
possible the subsequent Russian advance into central Europe.

In short, blaming the 1812 defeat solely on Napoleon is a gross oversimplification, although he
certainly contributed to the disaster. It would be more accurate to note two factors. First was the relative
improvement in the Russian army by comparison to its imperial opponent. More fundamentally, the
Russian campaign, like that in Spain, represented the fact that Napoleon’s adversaries no longer fought
according to the eighteenth century rules that had permitted his earlier victories. The Grande Armée could
and did still defeat these adversaries on the field of battle; the difference was that such tactical defeats did
not translate into decisive political outcomes. The classic problem of the Western way of war was that
rapid, decisive victory was only possible when the adversary’s entire army could be defeated in a single
battle and when that adversary would accept battlefield results as final.

5

Ross,Steven T. “

Napoleon and Maneuver Warfare

.” In The Harmon Memorial Lectures in Military History, 1959–1987, edited by Harry R.
Borowski, 309–24. Washington, DC: Office of Air Force History, US Air Force, 1988.

Napoleon and Maneuver Warfare

by Steven T. Ross

It is a great honor to be invited to deliver the Twenty-eighth Harmon Memorial Lecture. Gen.
Hubert Harmon had a lifelong interest in military history. His belief in the enduring importance of the
historical study of war is confirmed by the call of many Great Captains to study the history of warfare
both for its own sake and to gain greater depth and understanding of current and future problems.

Carl von Clausewitz was fully aware of the dangers of oversimplification and mistaken analogies,
but, nevertheless, noted that “historical examples clarify everything and also provide the best kind of
proof in the empirical sciences. This is particularly true of the art of war.”1 While still a cadet at West
Point, George Patton wrote,

I believe that in order for a man to become a great soldier . . . it is necessary for him to be
so thoroughly conversant with all sorts of military possibilities that whenever an occasion
arises he has at his hand without effort on his part a parallel. To attain this end I think that
it is necessary for a man to begin to read military history in its earliest and crudest form
and to follow it down in natural sequence permitting his mind to grow with his subject
until he can grasp without effort the most abstruse question of the science of war because
he is already permeated with all its elements.2

It was, of course, Napoleon who said, “Knowledge of grand tactics is gained only by experience and
by the study of the campaigns of all the great captains.”3 He also urged officers “to read and reread the
campaigns of Alexander, Hannibal, Caesar, Gustavus, Eugene and Frederick. This is the only way to
become a great captain.”4 Thus, Napoleon, like many others, regarded the combination of experience plus
reflection upon the immediate and distant past as essential guideposts for military professionals.

Recently, there has been a rediscovery of the importance of military doctrine which Gen. Curtis
LeMay aptly described in the following terms: “At the very heart of warfare lies doctrine. It represents the
central beliefs for waging war in order to achieve victory. . . . It is the building material for strategy. It is
fundamental for sound judgement.”5 The study of doctrine has both a contemporary and a historical
dimension.

Current interest focuses on maneuver warfare, a concept that involves combined arms operations,
bold deep attacks and flexible operational methods. New U.S. Army and Air Force manuals emphasize
rapid, deep, violent assaults designed to dislocate and disorient the enemy. A strategy based on swift
unexpected strikes coupled with a relentless exploitation of initial success is not, of course, totally new.
Many if not most great commanders were masters of mobile warfare, and Napoleon was one of the most
able executors of maneuver doctrine and strategy. His reflections on the art of war have in fact a very
modern ring, and it is instructive to compare them with current American manuals.

Napoleon always understood the necessity for combined arms operations and noted that “infantry,
cavalry and artillery cannot do without one another.”6 The 1982 edition of the U.S. Army’s Field Manual
100–5 (FM 100–5) states, “the term combined arms refers to two or more arms in mutual support to
produce complementary and reinforcing effects that neither can obtain separately.”7

In his campaigns Napoleon always relied upon surprise and speed. “It is,” he wrote, “a well
established maxim of war never to do what the enemy wishes you to do.”8 He also believed that “the
strength of an army like power in mechanics is the product of the mass by the velocity.”9 Similarly, the
1984 edition of Air Force Manual 1–1 (AFM 1–1) calls upon commanders to “influence the timing and
tempo of military actions by seizing the initiative and operating beyond the enemy’s ability to react
effectively.”10 The 1984 edition of FM 100–5 calls for operations that are, “rapid, unpredictable, violent
and disorienting to the enemy.”11

Boldness and flexibility in battle were characteristic of Napoleon’s style of combat. “In audacity and
obstinacy will be found safety and conservation of the men,”12 and war, he noted, was “composed of
nothing but surprises. While a general should adhere to general principles, he should never lose the
opportunity to profit by these surprises. It is the essence of genius. In war there is only one favorable
moment. Genius seizes it.”13 AFM 1–1 for its part bluntly tells commanders to “seize the initiative,”14
while FM 100–5 enjoins commanders to “develop opportunities that the force as a whole can exploit.”15

To Napoleon fire was an essential component of maneuver, or as he put it, “in battle skill consists in
converging a mass of fire upon a single point.”16 FM 100–5 notes that “fire power provides the enabling
violent destructive force essential to successful maneuver,”17 while AFM 1–1 states, “Concentrated
firepower can overwhelm enemy defenses and secure an objective at the right time and place.”18

Pursuit in the wake of victory was another essential element of Napoleonic warfare. “Once the
offensive has been assumed,” he wrote, “it must be maintained to the extremity,”19 and he also noted that
a good general would “never let the victors or the vanquished rest.”20 FM 100–5 points out the
importance of taking “advantage of opportunities by momentum”21 and of sustaining the initiative by
“exploiting success.”22 AFM 1–1 also recognizes the need to “attack the enemy relentlessly.”23

The American military has the opportunity to create and reflect upon its doctrine before having to test
it in a major clash of arms. Napoleon on the other hand had to devise his operational techniques in the
crucible of war. Fortunately, he had an instrument to match his genius—the army created by
revolutionary France.24

The pre-1789 French Royal Army was both socially and tactically inflexible. The nobility dominated
the officer corps. In 1789 the army contained 9,578 officers of whom 6,633 were aristocrats. Enlisted
personnel numbered about 140,000 and consisted primarily of volunteers from the lower classes who
joined the army to escape poverty, unemployment and occasionally the police.

Once in uniform soldiers felt little loyalty to the ruling monarch. Desertion was a constant problem.
During the Seven Years’ War about 70,000 French soldiers fled the army. Harsh discipline was necessary
to maintain the army’s cohesion, and brutal punishments were common.

The nature of weapons reinforced the need for rigid discipline. The standard infantry weapon was the
inaccurate, short range, slow firing smoothbore flintlock musket. Under optimum conditions a trained
soldier could fire his weapon two or three times a minute and expect to hit something only if it were less
than 150 yards distant.

To obtain the most effective use of the musket, armies employed linear formations three ranks deep
and up to several miles long. The linear battle order brought the most weapons to bear and produced the
greatest volume of fire. Troop training, therefore, emphasized rapid deployments from marching columns
to battle lines and rapid volley firing. Soldiers were forbidden to show individual initiative even to the
extent of aiming their weapons, and officers and NCOs in battle typically devoted their efforts to keeping
their formations properly aligned and ready to deliver volleys upon command.

Light infantry performed special tasks: scouting, rounding up prisoners and deserters, and harassing a
retreating enemy. Light troops, however, remained functionally separate from the line battalions and
rarely participated directly in major battles.

Cavalry composed about a fifth of the army’s strength. In battle cavalry regiments usually served on
the army’s flanks and were employed as a shock force. Socially prestigious, the horsemen were
occasionally effective in battle. Light cavalry units performed special functions and often operated with
the light infantry.

Field artillery usually provided a preliminary bombardment, but once the army was fully engaged, the
guns that were too heavy to move quickly, usually fell silent. Lighter regimental guns did move with the
infantry but were too few to be of significant support to the foot soldiers. Recognizing the artillery’s
limited combat role, the Royal Army maintained a field artillery force of only 12,000 officers and men.

Old Regime battles were marked by rigid tactics. Troops in linear order traded close range volleys
with their enemies until one side broke. Army commanders could move reserves to bolster the firing line
or order cavalry charges, but linear formations made more extensive maneuvering impossible, and volley
fire remained the deciding factor in most engagements.

Delivered by serried ranks at close range, volley fire produced heavy losses among victors and
vanquished alike. Casualties could, in fact, reach as high as forty percent of the forces engaged.
Consequently, battles were rarely decisive since the victors were usually too depleted to mount an
effective pursuit, and the defeated army could usually escape annihilation.

The high casualty rate coupled with indecisive results also made generals reluctant to risk battle. The
Roya1 Army had no effective reserve system, and commanders did not want to hazard their small forces
in constant tactically expensive but strategically futile combats. Battles were, therefore, relatively rare,
and most wars were indecisive. Statesmen in old regime France, as in other states, frequently devised
ambitious diplomatic stratagems, but achievements usually fell far short of aspirations in large measure
because the nature of warfare was not suited to the goals of state policy.

For France the Seven Years’ War was an unmitigated disaster. The army entered the war without
enthusiasm, fought without distinction, and emerged without victory. After 1763 the French made a
sustained effort to improve their armed forces.

Infantry tactics were hotly debated. Some wanted to imitate Prussian expertise in linear deployments;
others called for the use of shock power by introducing massive assault columns; and still others
advocated a flexible combination of lines and small columns. The government increased the number of
light infantrymen, and a few farsighted thinkers advocated that line troops receive light infantry training,
thus creating a soldier who could fight in either close or open order.

The artillery corps made great strides. The number of gun calibers was reduced to four, and new guns,
lighter than their predecessors, had standardized parts and packaged rounds. One officer, the Chevalier
Jean du Teil, argued that light, mobile field guns used in large concentrations against infantry rather than

in counterbattery work would be decisive in combat. Du Teil’s elder brother commanded an artillery
regiment and trained his cadets, including a young Corsican named Bonaparte, according to the
Chevalier’s doctrine.

To improve interarm coordination the War Ministry in 1776 divided France into sixteen military
districts. The number was later raised to eighteen. Each district had a permanent garrison from all three
service branches. Inspector generals were empowered to hold combined arms maneuvers, and for
campaigns they could create task forces composed of elements of two or more branches.

Thus by 1789 the Royal Army had made some progress in improving its tactics and in developing
combined arms doctrine. It, nevertheless, remained a small, long service volunteer force run by aristocrats
and staffed by society’s lower orders. Moreover, the reforms were tentative, and it was to take the impact
of domestic revolution coupled with foreign war to alter fundamentally the army’s organization and
doctrine.

The first years of the Revolution witnessed a continuation of the reform efforts of the Old Regime.
Infantry drill regulations, issued on August 1, 1791, described a variety of line and column formations
and encouraged commanders to employ formations and maneuvers best suited to their particular
geographic and tactical circumstances. The artillery corps introduced horse batteries, where mounted
gunners accompanied their cannons into battle, and the aristocracy lost their virtual monopoly over the
officer corps.

It was, however, the war which began on April 20, 1792, that forced French leaders to undertake
drastic reforms to save the nation and its revolution. By 1793 France was at war with most of Europe,
under invasion from the Channel coast to the Alps and from the Mediterranean to the Pyrenees. The
nation also faced counterrevolutionary insurrections in the western departments, in the Loire and Rhone
valleys and in the major Mediterranean seaports.

The Republic’s first priority was to expand the army. When calls for volunteers proved inefficient, the
government resorted to conscription. On February 21, 1793, the National Convention called 300,000 men
to the colors; and on August 23, 1793, the government passed the levée en masse decree, placing all
French men and women in a state of permanent requisition for the duration of hostilities.

Conscription was quite effective. Most of the French people supported the revolution, had a personal
stake in the Republic’s survival and were willing to participate in the national defense effort. By January
1794, France had 670,000 men under arms, and by the end of the year the Republic had 1,108,000 troops,
of whom 850,000 served in the field armies while the remainder garrisoned fortresses, guarded the coasts
or underwent training in depots.

The government organized its soldiers into demi-brigades consisting of one battalion from the old
regular army and two conscript battalions. By early 1794, the army contained 198 demi-brigades and
fourteen smaller light demi-brigades. Army commanders began to place two or more demi-brigades with
supporting artillery under a single officer. Division strengths varied widely as did the number of field
guns, but by 1794 the use of the multiarm division was standard in all field armies.

Since about two thirds of the officers of the old army left their posts because of opposition to the
Revolution, the Republic had to create a new officer corps. Talent, experience and loyalty replaced birth
and status as promotion criteria. The new officer corps was by social origin overwhelmingly middle class.
Nobles who supported the revolution continued to serve the Republic; however, a few high ranking
officers came from artisan and peasant backgrounds. Many generals of the Republic had previous service

as enlisted men in the Royal Army, while others had served in the National Guard, an organization
created during the Revolution’s early years to provide local security.

The new officers were young and energetic. Not all were great commanders, but Republican officers
on the whole were able leaders and succeeded in molding regulars, volunteers and conscripts into a
fighting force able to face Europe’s professional armies on better than even terms.

Officers used the 1791 regulations as the basic drill manual and also gave troops light infantry
training. Their goal was to create all purpose infantrymen able to fight in open order, as part of an assault
column or as a member of a firing line.

A typical nine company infantry battalion about 1,000 strong usually entered battle in a closed
column, two companies wide and four deep. Thus, the column resembled a rectangle eighty men across
and twelve deep. The ninth company remained in reserve. Depending upon battlefield conditions, the
commander had a number of options. He could detach companies as skirmishers and reinforce them
using, if necessary, the entire battalion. Alternatively, he could order the companies in column to launch a
bayonet assault, or he could deploy his troops for fire action.

The demi-brigade enjoyed similar flexibility. The commander could place all three of his battalions in
line or establish three parallel columns screened by light infantry. He also could put some battalions in
line and others in column and shift formations from one mode to another during combat to respond to
changing tactical circumstances.

Divisions could march and fight independently or as part of a larger force. Commanders could,
therefore, wage encounter battles, feeding troops into action as they arrived on the field instead of waiting
until their entire force deployed. Army commanders often used ad hoc, multi-division formations for
specific missions. These corps could operate also on their own or as part of a field army.

Divisional and army commanders adopted du Teil’s views concerning the employment of field guns.
Serving in large batteries, guns provided close fire support for the infantry and operated as an integral part
of Republican battle formations.

Only the cavalry arm did not witness a marked improvement, plagued as it was by insufficient
training and a serious shortage of horses. Nevertheless, the cavalry performed useful services including
scouting and screening the main body’s advance. The Republican cavalry earned the unique distinction of
capturing a fleet. In January 1795, French horsemen charged over ice-covered water and seized a Dutch
fleet.

Republican logistics were at best sketchy. Troops lived by requisitioning, and when there was nothing
to requisition they did without. There were constant shortages of food, pay, shoes and uniforms in
Republican armies, but troops put up with privations that would have destroyed an Old Regime army
because they had a personal stake in the war.

The Republican army in which soldiers were motivated by patriotism and hope of reward as well as
by fear of punishment allowed generals to operate with a boldness and flexibility that was simply not
possible under the Old Regime. Commanders could and did attack constantly, seeking to wear down and
destroy their enemies in pitched battles. The French were not always successful and did not win every
engagement. Nor did the Republican forces have the ability to wage campaigns and battles of
annihilation. With rare exceptions Republican forces employed a strategy of exhaustion. Fighting
aggressively and attacking constantly, the French typically wore down their enemies in a series of
engagements. Still, the creation of a citizen army, all purpose infantrymen and combined arms formations

able to operate in any kind of terrain enabled the Republic to wage a multi-front war, defeat two great
power coalitions, and expand substantially French territory and power.

Napoleon, after seizing power in November 1799, did not introduce fundamental changes in the
French Army’s organization and tactics because he was satisfied with the Republican system. His infantry
continued to train according to the 1791 regulations and to serve in three battalion demi-brigades that he
renamed regiments in 1803. Napoleon continued to employ the division, which, as under the Republic,
varied in size from three to five regiments. He also regularized the use of the corps. Napoleonic army
corps ranged from 17,000 to 30,000 men in order to battle enemy intelligence, fit a particular mission and
suit the capabilities of the commander. A corps contained from two to four divisions, a brigade or division
of cavalry and thirty to forty field guns. A corps could march independently and fight on its own. It could
begin and sustain major engagements until the rest of the army arrived.25

Napoleon sought to expand the artillery corps, and by 1805 he had 8,300 howitzers, 1,700 mortars,
4,300 heavy guns and 7,300 light cannons. He also reorganized the cavalry and created a large reserve
directly under his control. Cavalry capabilities improved, but as in the days of the Republic it remained
the weakest service arm.

Napoleon noted that “I give myself only half the credit for the battles I have won . . . the fact is that a
battle is won by the army,”26 and he devoted much effort to training his forces in order that officers and
men would fully understand his tactical and operational techniques.

Between 1801 and 1803 special inspectors visited regiments checking on maneuvers and testing
sergeants on their knowledge of the drill regulations. Battalion officers and NCOs met twice a week with
their regimental adjutants to study tactics. At the Boulogne camp in 1804 and 1805, Napoleon ordered
officers to devote two days a week to battalion drill, three days to division drill and one day to corps
maneuvers. Every fifteenth day the Emperor conducted a grand evolution involving several corps.
Napoleon did not insist on rigid adherence to every detail of the 1791 drill book, but he did want his
entire army to be able to operate in the flexible spirit embodied in the regulations.

At the start of the Austerlitz Campaign of 1805 Napoleon’s Grand Army, 210,000 men strong, was a
highly effective fighting machine. Almost all the senior officers were combat tested. About a quarter of
the rank and file were veterans of Republican campaigns, another quarter entered the army between 1800
and 1804, and the remainder were new conscripts. Against them the Austrians sent 95,000 men into Italy,
23,000 into the Tyrol and 70,000 into Bavaria. About 95,000 Russian troops were to follow the Austrians
into Germany.

Faced by threats to northern Italy and eastern France, Napoleon, whose forces were concentrated on
the Channel coast, decided to seize the initiative by striking the Austrian forces in south Germany before
the Russians could reach them.

He moved the Grand Army to the Rhine, sent 50,000 men to Italy to hold the Austrians in check and
placed 30,000 troops at Boulogne to guard against an English descent. On August 26 he issued orders for
the Grand Army to wheel south from the Rhine toward the Danube. Light forces were to demonstrate in
the Black Forest to draw the Austrians further west while the Grand Army then crossed the Danube and
enveloped the enemy forces.

The Duke of Marlborough had executed a similar maneuver in 1704, but he led a force of 40,000.
Napoleon’s plan called for moving more than five times that number. He assigned each corps an
independent line of march, thus ensuring that only a single formation would have to live off the
countryside in any given area. He reduced supply trains to a minimum and ordered engineer officers to

scout the German roads. On the night of September 24–25, the Emperor ordered his forces to cross the
Rhine and begin the enveloping maneuver.

While feints drew the Austrians west, the Grand Army advanced at a rate of about thirty kilometers a
day, and on the evening of October 6–7 leading elements reached the Danube and seized a crossing.
Napoleon next sent two corps toward Munich to hold off the Russians if they should arrive and seek to
join the Austrian army camped around Ulm. He ordered his remaining corps to move south and west in
order to surround the Austrians.

The ring tightened quickly. There were several sharp actions in which the demoralized Austrians lost
about 20,000 men. On October 21 the Austrian forces at Ulm, 27,000 strong, laid down their arms while
remnants of the Hapsburg army fled east. In twenty-six days Napoleon had marched from the Rhine to the
Danube, scored a major victory and completely dislocated the plans of the Third Coalition.

Despite his triumph Napoleon realized he could not rest. Large Austrian armies were still in the field,
the Russians were moving forward, and Prussia was contemplating joining the Coalition. Napoleon,
therefore, decided to strike rapidly deep into Austrian territory in order to bring the Austro-Russian forces
to battle. By October 25 the Grand Army was again on the march, and by November 12 the French were
in Vienna.

The Austro-Russian forces retreated into Bohemia where they gathered 85,000 men near the small
town of Austerlitz. Napoleon’s forces were tired, deep in enemy territory and short of supplies. In
addition to casualties French troop strength was further reduced by the need to garrison captured positions
and guard lines of communication. By late November Napoleon had 53,000 men near Austerlitz with
another 22,000 around Vienna. To make matters worse, the Prussians were becoming more belligerent,
and Austrian battalions from Italy were moving steadily north.

The logical thing for the Emperor to do was retreat in order to rest and replenish his forces, but
Napoleon’s response to his dilemma was to seek a decisive battle. He began by deliberately giving the
impression that his army was weak and exhausted. He accepted an allied offer to discuss an armistice,
deliberately pulled his troops back from Austerlitz and the Pratzen Heights, the supposed geographic key
to the area, and gave the impression that his right flank was especially vulnerable. The enemy took the
bait and planned to strike the French right and sever the Grand Army’s line of communications with
Vienna.

The Battle of Austerlitz, fought on December 2, 1805, was the decisive victory that Napoleon sought.
The allied forces fell on the French right, but to achieve this concentration the allies weakened their
center. One of Napoleon’s reserve corps had arrived to strengthen the Grand Army’s left and center the
night before the battle. The other corps moved up from Vienna, covering eighty miles in fifty hours, and
the divisions entered the battle on Napoleon’s right directly off the march.

When he felt that the allies were fully committed against his right, Napoleon unleashed his strategic
reserve against the Austro-Russian center. After bitter fighting, the French broke the allied center and
pivoted south against the allied left wing. When the allies finally retreated, they left behind 27,000
casualties—a third of their original strength. The Austrians soon sought an armistice while the Russians
marched back to Poland.

Napoleon had struck at his enemies with deep, rapid, slashing maneuvers that threatened their
communications and threw them off balance strategically and psychologically. Napoleon constantly
retained the initiative, striking boldly and ruthlessly, and never gave his foes the opportunity to gather
their forces or their senses. The capabilities of the Grand Army were, of course, vital to Napoleon’s

success. Their ability to move rapidly with a minimum of logistic support and their tactical proficiency on
the battlefield enabled the Emperor to transfer his plans into action and provides an excellent historical
object lesson.

The Prussian campaign of 1806 marked the apogee of Napoleonic maneuver warfare. The Grand
Army, numbering about 180,000 troops, consisted almost entirely of seasoned troops. The Prussians had
about 254,000 men under arms, of whom 171,000 were available for field operations. The Prussian king
was irresolute, and the leading generals comprised a junta of septuagenarians. The troops, heirs of the
traditions of Frederick the Great, were well drilled and well disciplined. Prussian battalions lacked the
flexibility of French units but were still Europe’s masters of linear tactics.

French troops were quartered in south Germany with army headquarters at Munich. In September the
Prussians occupied Saxony and concentrated their forces at Leipzig, Dresden and Göttingen. Three
possible courses of action presented themselves to the Prussian high command. The army could stand on
the defensive, retreating slowly eastward in a series of holding actions until the Russians mobilized and
moved west. A slightly bolder scheme called for the army to concentrate in the vicinity of Erfurt north of
the Thuringian Forest. If Napoleon moved east, the army could threaten the French left. A more daring
strategy called for a concentrated drive from Erfurt towards Stuttgart to threaten the line of the Rhine,
catching the French in their scattered garrisons and defeating them in detail.

The Prussian high command finally decided to pursue an offensive strategy, and in early October the
Duke of Brunswick ordered the Prussian army to concentrate around Erfurt in preparation for a blow
against Napoleon’s left flank.

Never willing to await passively an enemy blow, Napoleon was determined to seize the initiative. He,
therefore, decided to seek out and crush the Prussian army before the Russians could come to their
assistance. A drive on Berlin would, he felt, force his enemies to offer battle.

In seeking a decisive engagement Napoleon examined several avenues of strategic approach. He
could concentrate his forces on the Rhine near the Dutch border and march directly on Berlin. Such a
move would, however, force him to redeploy the Grand Army, a time-consuming process that would
grant additional weeks for the Russians to mobilize. Moreover, a Prussian army, if defeated on the north
German plain, could simply retreat toward Berlin, its depots and the Russians.

A concentration at Mainz and an advance on Berlin via Frankfurt and Erfurt made the initial
concentration of forces easier. Such a movement, however, faced daunting geographical obstacles,
including the vast Thuringian Forest with its scanty road net. Once again the Prussians, if defeated, could
retreat towards their magazines and reinforcements.

A rapid concentration of forces around Bamberg and Bayreuth in northeastern Bavaria followed by an
advance north toward Leipzig or Dresden and then to Berlin promised the most spectacular results. The
terrain posed problems since the Grand Army would have to pass through the Thuringian Forest, but
given the current disposition of the army, the concentration area was most convenient. Moreover, a rapid
advance through Saxony toward Berlin would at one stroke threaten the Prussian lines of communication,
outflank their field forces, place the French in a commanding position between Frederick William and the
Russians and imperil the Prussian bases and capital. If the Prussians held their ground, Napoleon might
repeat the maneuver of Ulm. If they retreated hastily, the Grand Army would have several opportunities
to defeat them piecemeal.

On September 5 Napoleon ordered engineer officers to reconnoiter the roads leading north from
Bamberg. On September 18 and 19, the Emperor dictated 102 separate orders including the famous
“General Dispositions for the Assembly of the Grand Army” wherein he directed six army corps, the
Guard, the Cavalry Reserve and a Bavarian contingent to begin moving toward northeastern Bavaria. He
then ordered his brother Louis, King of Holland, to mobilize 30,000 men and directed a 22,000 man corps
to Mainz. These forces were to attract Prussian attention to the north, and in case of disaster they were to
hold the line of the Rhine while the Grand Army retreated. If the Prussians lunged west, the troops in
Mainz and Holland would form the anvil against which Napoleon could hammer the enemy from the rear.

Napoleon left Paris on September 24 and on October 2 took personal command of his forces. Three
days later he issued orders for the advance through the Thuringian Forest and on into Saxony. The
Emperor formed the Grand Army into what he called a bataillon carré able to meet an attack from any
direction. The army was to march in three columns each two corps strong. The Bavarians joined the right
flank column; the Guard and Cavalry Reserve followed the center column. All of the columns were
within supporting distance of each other. If the Prussians struck one of the columns, the commander was
to fight a defensive battle while Napoleon maneuvered the unengaged forces to attack the enemy rear.

At first light on October 8, 1806, the three columns preceded by a light cavalry screen began to
advance. By nightfall on the 9th the Grand Army had largely passed through the forest meeting only
sporadic opposition.

In the days following the French continued to march toward Leipzig, crushing an isolated detachment
and taking 1,800 prisoners and thirty-three guns in the process. Caught off balance, the anxious Prussians
gave up all thought of attacking the Grand Army. On October 13 the Prussians decided upon a hasty
retreat to Leipzig to protect their communications. The main body, some 63,000 strong, was to march to

Leipzig by way of Auerstadt. Two large detachments with a combined total of 53,000 troops were to take
up positions between Jena and Weimar until the main body was clear of Auerstadt and then join the
retreat to the north.

Receiving sporadic reports of the Prussian movements, Napoleon reacted quickly, issuing orders to
his corps to swing westward in preparation for a major battle. The Emperor presumed that he would face
the bulk of the Prussian army around Jena. What he did not realize was that the main enemy forces were
already in full retreat and that the fighting on October 14 would in fact evolve into two separate
engagements.

The dual battles of Jena-Auerstadt demonstrated that French tactical ability was again equal to the
Emperor’s strategic genius. At Jena one corps began the engagement, and Napoleon fed additional units
into the battle as they arrived on the field. Ultimately, four corps with 96,000 troops crushed the
Prussians, inflicting 25,000 casualties for a loss of 5,000. At Auerstadt a single corps of 27,000 men met
the Prussian main force. So tactically superior were the French that at the end of the fight the Prussians
were in full retreat having lost 10,000 men and 115 guns, while French casualties amounted to 7,000
killed and wounded.

Virtually without pause Napoleon ordered a relentless pursuit of the scattered demoralized Prussian
forces. One force moved west taking Erfurt and 9,000 prisoners on the 16th, while other units pushed to
the Elbe, covering seventy-five miles to reach the river on October 20. Four days and ninety miles later
the French advanced guard was in the outskirts of Berlin. On October 25 the French marched through the
city while other corps moved toward the Baltic and still others advanced on the Oder. By the 29th the
French were at Stettin; Lübeck fell on November 5, and other corps were approaching the Oder.
Throughout the advance the various corps took thousands of prisoners and huge amounts of equipment.

In the space of thirty-three days the Grand Army killed or wounded 25,000 Prussians and took
140,000 prisoners and 2,000 cannons. The king with remnants of his once mighty army fled across the
Oder to join the Russians, leaving most of his state to the mercies of the Emperor.

As in 1805 Napoleon again struck his enemy from a completely unexpected direction. Surprise
coupled with mobility completely disoriented the Prussian high command from the outset of the war.
Moreover, Napoleon never gave the Prussians an opportunity to regroup.

Napoleon was, of course, ultimately defeated. There are numerous factors, including British sea
power, his own policy of continual expansion and military reforms by enemy armies, that contributed to
his downfall. Additionally and critically, the capabilities of the French army declined after 1807.
Casualties plus ever-expanding military commitments diluted the quality of the Grand Army. New
recruits were not as masterful on the battlefield as were the victors of Austerlitz, Jena and Auerstadt.
Napoleon, therefore, had little choice but to substitute mass for tactical flexibility in his battles.

After 1808 his battles became battles of attrition. He won decisively at Austerlitz with 73,000 men,
and 96,000 troops triumphed at Jena. A vastly outnumbered force emerged victorious at Auerstadt. At
Wagram Napoleon deployed 170,000 men, at Borodino 133,000, at Dresden 120,000 and at Leipzig
195,000. Yet in each engagement, despite very heavy losses, he never destroyed an enemy field army. He
remained a master of the bold strategic maneuver, but his army’s tactical execution no longer matched his
strategic genius.
The Revolutionary and Napoleonic era imposed dramatic changes on warfare. War became national,
and entire peoples participated in the great affairs of state. Armies ceased to be composed of automatons
adhering to a rigid tactical doctrine. Citizen armies employing flexible tactics and emphasizing individual
initiative down to the small unit level dominated the battlefield. After 1815 military 1eaders had to reflect

upon and absorb the lessons of the Napoleonic wars, and even in the far off United States military men
responded to this imperative.

In 1815 Sylvanus Thayer went to Europe to buy texts for the West Point library. Most of the books
purchased were French, and French was the only modern foreign language taught at the academy. D. H.
Mahan, father of the U.S. Navy’s A. T. Mahan, studied at the Metz artillery school. He then joined the
faculty at West Point, and for the rest of his career he proclaimed to his cadets that the study of
Napoleonic tactics was essential for the modern officer. His textbook on tactics emphasized the flexible
employment of lines and columns covered by skirmishers. Instructors and cadets formed a Napoleon Club
where they discussed at length the Emperor’s tactics and strategy.

Newly commissioned West Point graduates entered an army that despite its small size amid unique
frontier experience, nevertheless resembled on a minute scale the Imperial forces. During the
Revolutionary War, Congress adopted a drill manual written by Baron von Steuben. It was a simplified
version of Prussian drill. These 1779 regulations proved inadequate during the War of 1812, and Gen.
Winfield Scott proceeded to drill the troops under his command according to the French regulations of
1791. In 1815 the government appointed Scott to head a board charged with revising the army’s drill. The
board ultimately adopted the 1791 manual for all infantry regiments. Scott translated the manual, and the
army used it until 1854. In the following year the army adopted a more recent French drill book, and it
was not until 1867 that the United States Army ceased using translations of French manuals and wrote its
own.

It is now 180 years since Napoleon launched his Ulm-Austerlitz campaign, but despite vast changes
in the technology of war, the Emperor’s operational methods may still hold valid lessons. His use of bold
slashing strokes pursued resolutely until victory, his ability to combine all of the service arms effectively,
his insistence upon developing and perfecting a tactical system able to execute his strategic thrusts and his
desire that everyone in his army understand his methods and use their initiative at every level to
accomplish the mission seem to apply to contemporary military organizations.

Napoleon once noted, “Speeches preceding a battle do not make soldiers brave. Old soldiers scarcely
listen and recruits forget them at the first cannon shot.”27 The Emperor believed that intellectual
preparation for war was essential but it had to take place long before combat. Genius cannot be taught, but
the study of a particular genius and his methods may indeed be useful to mere mortals.

Notes

1. Michael Howard and Peter Paret, eds., Carl von Clausewitz, On War (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University
Press, 1976), p. 170.

2. Martin Blumenson, The Many Faces of George Patton (Colorado Springs: USAFA, 1972), p. 25.
3. C.H. Lanza, ed., Napoleon and Modern War. His Military Maxims (Harrisburg, PA: Military Service

Publishing Co., 1949), Maxim 77.
4. Ibid., Maxim 78.
5. Department of the Air Force Manual 1–1, Functions and Basic Doctrine of the United States Air Force

(Washington, DC: USGPO, 1984), Front Cover.
6. Lanza, Maxim 47.
7. Department of the Army Field Manual 100–5, Operations (Washington, DC: USGPO, 1982), p. 7–4.
8. Lanza, op. cit., Maxim 16.
9. Ibid., Maxim 9.
10. AFM 1–1, p. 2–8.
11. FM 100–5, p. 2–1.
12. Lanza, Maxim 15.

13. Ibid., Maxim 95.
14. AFM 1–1, p. 2–16.
15. FM 100–5, p. 2–1.
16. Lanza, Maxim 92.
17. FM 100–5, p. 2–4.
18. AFM 1–1, p. 2–7.
19. Lanza, Maxim 6.
20. Ibid., Maxim 83.
21. FM 100–5, p. 9–1.
22. Ibid., p. 2–4.
23. AFM 1–1, p. 2–13.
24. For bibliographical guidance on the armies of the Old Regime and Revolution see: Steven T. Ross, French

Military History 1661–1799. A Guide to the Literature (New York and London: Garland Publishing, Inc., 1984).
25. Some of the more useful studies of Napoleon and his campaigns are: David Chandler, The Campaigns of

Napoleon (New York, The MacMillan Co., 1966); T. D. Dodge, Napoleon, 4 vols. (London: Gay and Bird, 1904–
1907); Christopher Duffy, Austerlitz, 1805 (London: Leo Cooper Ltd., 1977); B. H. Liddell Hart, The Ghost of
Napoleon (London: Faber and Faber, 1933); F. N. Maude, The Jena Campaign 1806 (London: S. Sonnenschein &
Company LTD., 1909).

26. J. C. Herold, The Mind of Napoleon (New York: Columbia University Press, 1955), p. 219–20.
27. Lanza, Maxim 61.

Napoleon and Maneuver Warfare