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Title: The Navy as a Fighting Machine


Author: Bradley A. Fiske



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THE NAVY AS A FIGHTING MACHINE

by

REAR ADMIRAL BRADLEY A. FISKE
U. S. Navy

Former Aid for Operations of the Fleet; President of the U. S.
Naval Institute; Gold Medallist of the U. S. Naval Institute and
The Franklin Institute of Pennsylvania

Author of "Electricity in Theory and Practice," "War Time in Manila,"
Etc.

With Map







PREFACE

What is the navy for?

Of what parts should it be composed?

What principles should be followed in designing, preparing, and
operating it in order to get the maximum return for the money expended?

To answer these questions clearly and without technical language
is the object of the book.

    BRADLEY A. FISKE.

  U. S. NAVAL WAR COLLEGE,
NEWPORT, R. I., September 3, 1916.




CONTENTS

   PART I

   GENERAL CONSIDERATIONS

   CHAPTER
        I. WAR AND THE NATIONS
       II. NAVAL A, B, C
      III. NAVAL POWER
       IV. NAVAL PREPAREDNESS
        V. NAVAL DEFENSE
       VI. NAVAL POLICY

   PART II

   NAVAL STRATEGY

      VII. GENERAL PRINCIPLES
     VIII. DESIGNING THE MACHINE
       IX. PREPARING THE ACTIVE FLEET
        X. RESERVES AND SHORE STATIONS
       XI. NAVAL BASES
      XII. OPERATING THE MACHINE

   STRATEGIC MAP OF THE ATLANTIC AND PACIFIC OCEANS

   *** Chapters III and VII were published originally in _The U. S.
   Naval Institute_; chapters I, II, IV, V, and VII in _The North
   American Review_.




PART I

GENERAL CONSIDERATIONS




CHAPTER I

WAR AND THE NATIONS

Because the question is widely discussed, whether peace throughout
the world may be attained by the friendly co-operation of many
nations, and because a nation's attitude toward this question may
determine its future prosperity or ruin, it may be well to note
what has been the trend of the nations hitherto, and whether any
forces exist that may reasonably be expected to change that trend.
We may then be able to induce from facts the law which that trend
obeys, and make a reasonable deduction as to whether or not the
world is moving toward peace. If we do this we shall follow the
inductive method of modern science, and avoid the error (with its
perilous results) of first assuming the law and then deducing
conclusions from it.

Men have always been divided into organizations, the first organization
being the family. As time went on families were formed into tribes,
for self-protection. The underlying cause for the organization was
always a desire for strength; sometimes for defense, sometimes
for offense, usually for both.

At times tribes joined in alliance with other tribes to attain a
common end, the alliance being brought about by peaceful agreement,
and usually ceasing after the end had been attained, or missed, or
when tribal jealousies forbade further common effort. Sometimes
tribes joined to form one larger tribe; the union being either
forced on a weaker by a stronger tribe, or caused by a desire to
secure a strength greater and more lasting than mere alliance can
insure.

In the same way, and apparently according to similar laws, sovereign
states or nations were formed from tribes; and in later years, by
the union of separate states. The states or nations have become
larger and larger as time has gone on; greater numbers, not only
of people but of peoples, living in the same general localities
and having hereditary ties, joining to form a nation.

Though the forms of government of these states or nations are numerous,
and though the conceptions of people as to the purposes and functions
of the state vary greatly, we find that one characteristic of a
state has always prevailed among all the states and nations of the
world--the existence of an armed military force, placed under the
control of its government; the purpose of this armed force being
to enable the government not only to carry on its administration
of internal matters, but also to exert itself externally against
the armed force of another state.

This armed force has been a prominent factor in the life of every
sovereign state and independent tribe, from history's beginning,
and is no less a factor now. No instance can be found of a sovereign
state without its appropriate armed force, to guard its sovereignty,
and preserve that freedom from external control, without which
freedom it ceases to exist as a sovereign state.

The armed force has always been a matter of very great expense. It
has always required the anxious care of the government and the people.
The men comprising it have always been subjected to restraint and
discipline, compelled to undergo hardships and dangers greater than
those of civil life, and developed by a training highly specialized
and exacting.

The armed force in every state has had not only continuous existence
always, but continuous, potential readiness, if not continuous
employment; and the greatest changes in the mutual relations of
nations have been brought about by the victory of the armed force
of one state over the armed force of another state. This does not
mean that the fundamental causes of the changes have been physical,
for they have been psychological, and have been so profound and so
complex as to defy analysis; but it does mean that the actual and
immediate instrument producing the changes has been physical force;
that physical force and physical courage acting in conjunction,
of which conjunction war is the ultimate expression, have always
been the most potent instruments in the dealings of nations with
each other.

Is there any change toward peaceful methods now?

No, on the contrary; war is recognized as the most potent method
still; the prominence of military matters is greater than ever
before; at no time in the past has interest in war been so keen
as at the present, or the expenditure of blood and money been so
prodigal; at no time before has war so thoroughly engaged the intellect
and energy of mankind.

In other words, the trend of the nations has been toward a clearer
recognition of the efficacy of military power, and an increasing
use of the instrumentality of war.

This does not mean that the trend of the nations has been regular;
for, on the contrary, it has been spasmodic. If one hundred photographs
of the map of Europe could be taken, each photograph representing
in colors the various countries as they appeared upon the map at
one hundred different times, and if those hundred photographs could
be put on films and shown as a moving-picture on a screen, the
result would resemble the shifting colored pieces in a kaleidoscope.
Boundaries advanced and receded, then advanced again; tribes and
nations moved their homes from place to place; empires, kingdoms,
principalities, duchies, and republics flourished brilliantly for a
while, and then went out; many peoples struggled for an autonomous
existence, but hardly a dozen acquired enough territory or mustered
a sufficiently numerous population to warrant their being called
"great nations." Of those that were great nations, only three have
endured as great nations for eight hundred years; and the three
that have so endured are the three greatest in Europe now--the
French, the British, and the German.

Some of the ancient empires continued for long periods. The history
of practical, laborious, and patient China is fairly complete and
clear for more than two thousand years before our era; and of dreamy,
philosophic India for almost as long, though in far less authentic
form. Egypt existed as a nation, highly military, artistic, and
industrious, as her monuments show, for perhaps four thousand years;
when she was forced by the barbarians of Persia into a condition
of dependence, from which she has never yet emerged. The time of
her greatness in the arts and sciences of peace was the time of her
greatest military power; and her decline in the arts and sciences
of peace accompanied her decline in those of war. Assyria, with
her two capitals, Babylon and Nineveh, flourished splendidly for
about six centuries, and was then subdued by the Persians under
Cyrus, after the usual decline. The little kingdom of the Hebrews,
hardy and warlike under Saul and David, luxurious and effeminate
under Solomon, lasted but little more than a hundred years. Persia,
rising rapidly by military means from the barbarian state, lived
a brilliant life of conquest, cultivated but little those arts of
peace that hold in check the passions of a successful military
nation, yielded rapidly to the seductions of luxury, and fell abruptly
before the Macedonian Alexander, lasting less than two hundred
and fifty years. Macedonia, trained under Philip, rose to great
military power under Alexander, conquered in twelve years the ten
most wealthy and populous countries of the world--nearly the whole
known world; but fell to pieces almost instantly when Alexander
died. The cities of Greece enjoyed a rare pre-eminence both in
the arts and sciences of peace and in military power, but only
for about one hundred and fifty years: falling at last before the
superior military force of Macedon, after neglecting the practice
of the military arts, and devoting themselves to art, learning,
and philosophy. Rome as a great nation lasted about five hundred
years; and the last three centuries of her life after the death
of Commodus, about 192 A. D., illustrate curiously the fact that,
even if a people be immoral, cruel, and base in many ways, their
existence as an independent state may be continued long, if military
requirements be understood, and if the military forces be preserved
from the influence of the effeminacy of the nation as a whole. In
Rome, the army was able to maintain a condition of considerable
manliness, relatively to the people at large, and thus preserve
internal order and keep the barbarians at bay for nearly three
hundred years; and at the same time exert a powerful and frequently
deciding influence in the government. But the effeminacy of the
people, especially of those in the higher ranks, made them the
creatures of the army that protected them. In some cases, the Emperor
himself was selected by the army, or by the Pretorian Guard in Rome;
and sometimes the guard removed an Emperor of whom it disapproved
by the simple expedient of killing him.

After the fall of the Western Empire in 476, when Rome was taken by
Odoacer, a condition of confusion, approaching anarchy, prevailed
throughout Europe, until Charlemagne founded his empire, about 800
A. D., except that Constantinople was able to stand up against all
outside assaults and hold the Eastern Empire together. Charlemagne's
empire united under one government nearly all of what is now France,
Germany, Austria, Italy, Belgium, and Holland. The means employed by
Charlemagne to found his empire were wholly military, though means
other than military were instituted to preserve it. He endeavored
by just government, wise laws, and the encouragement of religion
and of education of all kinds to form a united people. The time
was not ripe, however; and Charlemagne's empire fell apart soon
after Charlemagne expired.

The rapid rise and spread of the Mohammedan religion was made possible
by the enthusiasm with which Mahomet imbued his followers, but the
actual founding of the Arabian Empire was due wholly to military
conquest, achieved by the fanatic Mussulmans who lived after him.
After a little more than a hundred years, the empire was divided
into two caliphates. Brilliant and luxurious courts were thereafter
held by caliphs at Bagdad and Cordova, with results similar to
those in Egypt, Persia, Assyria, and Rome; the people becoming
effeminate, employed warriors to protect them, and the warriors
became their masters. Then, effeminacy spreading even to the warriors,
strength to resist internal disorders as well as external assaults
gradually faded, and both caliphates fell.

From the death of Charlemagne until the fall of Constantinople, in
1453, the three principal nations of Europe were those of France,
Germany, and England. Until that time, and dating from a time shortly
before the fall of Rome, Europe was in perpetual turmoil--owing
not only to conflicts between nations, but to conflicts between
the Church of Rome and the civil power of the Kings and Emperors,
to conflicts among the feudal lords, and to conflicts between the
sovereigns and the feudal lords. The power of the Roman Church was
beneficent in checking a too arrogant and military tendency, and
was the main factor in preventing an utter lapse back to barbarism.

The end of the Middle Ages and the beginning of what are usually
called "Modern Times" found only four great countries in the
world--France, Germany, Spain, and England. Of these Spain dropped
out in the latter part of the sixteenth century. The other three
countries still stand, though none of them lies within exactly
the same boundaries as when modern times began; and Austria, which
was a part of Germany then, is now--with Hungary--a separate state
and nation.

This very brief survey of history shows that every great nation
has started from a small beginning and risen sometimes gradually,
sometimes rapidly to greatness; and then fallen, sometimes gradually,
sometimes rapidly, to mediocrity, dependence, or extinction; that
the instrument which has effected the rise has always been military
power, usually exerted by armies on the land, sometimes by navies
on the sea; and that the instrument which has effected the actual
fall has always been the military power of an adversary. In other
words, _the immediate instrument that has decided the rise and
the fall of nations has been military power_.

That this should have been so need not surprise us, since nations
have always been composed of human beings, influenced by the same
hopes and fears and governed by the same laws of human nature. And
as the most potent influence that could be brought to bear upon
a man was a threat against his life, and as it was the province of
military power to threaten life, it was unavoidable that military
power should be the most potent influence that could be brought
to bear upon a nation.

The history of the world has been in the main a history of war
and a narrative of wars. No matter how far back we go, the same
horrible but stimulating story meets our eyes. In ancient days,
when every weapon was rude, and manipulated by one man only, the
injury a single weapon could do was small, the time required for
preparation was but brief, and the time required for recuperation
after war was also brief. At that time, military power was almost
the sole element in the longevity of a tribe, or clan, or nation;
and the warriors were the most important men among the people.
But as civilization increased, the life not only of individuals
but of nations became more complex, and warriors had to dispute
with statesmen, diplomatists, poets, historians, and artists of
various types, the title to pre-eminence. Yet even in savage tribes
and even in the conduct of savage wars, the value of wisdom and
cunning was perceived, and the stimulating aid of the poet and
the orator was secured. The relative value of men of war and men
of peace depended during each period on the conditions prevailing
then--in war, warriors held the stage; in peace, statesmen and
artists had their day.

Naturally, during periods when war was the normal condition, the
warrior was the normal pillar of the state. In how great a proportion
of the time that history describes, war was the normal condition
and peace the abnormal, few realize now in our country, because
of the aloofness of the present generation from even the memory
of war. Our last great war ended in 1865; and since then only the
light and transient touch of the Spanish War has been laid upon
us. Even that war ended seventeen years ago and since then only
the distant rumblings of battles in foreign lands have been borne
across the ocean to our ears.

These rumblings have disturbed us very little. Feeling secure behind
the 3,000-mile barrier of the ocean, we have lent an almost incredulous
ear to the story that they tell and the menace that they bear;
though the story of the influence of successful and unsuccessful
wars upon the rise and fall of nations is told so harshly and so
loudly that, in order not to hear it, one must tightly stop his
ears.

That war has not been the only factor, however, in the longevity of
nations is obviously true; and it is also true that nations which
have developed the warlike arts alone have never even approximated
greatness. In all complex matters, in all processes of nature and
human nature, many elements are present, and many factors combine
to produce a given result. Man is a very complex individual, and
the more highly he is developed the more complex he becomes. A
savage is mainly an animal; but the civilized and highly educated
man is an animal on whose elemental nature have been superposed
very highly organized mental, moral, and spiritual natures. Yet
even a savage of the most primitive or warlike character has an
instinctive desire for rest and softness and beauty, and loves
a primitive music; and even the most highly refined and educated
gentleman raises his head a little higher, and draws his breath a
little deeper, when war draws near. Thus in the breast of every man
are two opposing forces; one urging him to the action and excitement
of war, the other to the comparative inaction and tranquillity of
peace. On the side that urges war, we see hate, ambition, courage,
energy, and strength; on the side that urges peace we see love,
contentment, cowardice, indolence, and weakness. We see arrayed for
war the forceful faults and virtues; for peace the gentle faults
and virtues. Both the forceful and the gentle qualities tend to
longevity in certain ways and tend to its prevention in other ways;
but history clearly shows that the _forceful qualities have tended
more to the longevity of nations than the gentle_. If ever two
nations, or two tribes, have found themselves contiguous, one forceful
and the other not, the forceful one has usually, if not always,
obtained the mastery over the other, and therefore has outlived
it. If any cow and any lion have found themselves alone together,
the lion has outlived the cow.

It is true that the mere fact of being a lion has not insured long
life, and that the mere fact of being a cow has not precluded it;
and some warlike tribes and nations have not lived so long as tribes
and nations of softer fibre. This seems to have been due, however,
either to the environments in which the two have lived, or to the
fact that the softer nation has had available some forces that
the other did not have. The native Indians of North America were
more warlike than the colonists from Europe that landed on their
shores; but the Indians were armed with spears and arrows, and
the colonists with guns.

Now, those guns were the product of the arts of peace; no nation
that had pursued a warlike life exclusively could have produced them
or invented the powder that discharged them. This fact indicates what
a thousand other facts of history also indicate, that civilization
and the peaceful arts contribute to the longevity of nations--not only
by promoting personal comfort, and by removing causes of internal
strife, and thus enabling large bodies of people to dwell together
happily, but also by increasing their military power. Every nation
which has achieved greatness has cultivated assiduously both the
arts of peace and the arts of war. Every nation which has long
maintained that greatness has done so by maintaining the policy
by which she acquired it. _Every nation that has attained and then
lost greatness, has lost it by losing the proper balance between the
military and the peaceful arts; never by exalting unduly the military,
but always by neglecting them, and thereby becoming vulnerable to
attack_.

In other words, the history of every great nation that has declined
shows three periods, the rise, the table-land of greatness, and
the decline. During the rise, the military arts hold sway; on the
table-land, the arts of peace and war are fairly balanced; during
the decline the peaceful arts hold sway. _Facilis descensus Averni_.
The rise is accomplished by expending energy, for which accomplishment
the possession of energy is the first necessity; the height of
the table-land attained represents the amount of energy expended;
the length of time that the nation maintains itself upon this
table-land, before starting on the inevitable descent therefrom,
represents her staying power and constitutes her longevity as a
great nation.

How long shall any nation stay upon the table-land? As long as
she continues to adapt her life wisely to her environment; as long
as she continues to be as wise as she was while climbing up; for
while climbing, she had not only to exert force, she had also to
guide the force with wisdom. So we see that, in the ascent, a nation
has to use both force and wisdom; on the table-land, wisdom; in
the decline, neither. Among the nations of antiquity one might
suppose that, because of the slowness of transportation and
communication, and the feebleness of weapons compared with those
of modern days, much longer periods of time would be required for
the rise of any nation, and also a longer period before her descent
began. Yet the vast empire of Alexander lasted hardly a day after
he expired, and the Grecian cities maintained their greatness but
a century and a half; while Great Britain, France, and Germany
have been great nations for nearly a thousand years.

Why have they endured longer than the others?

The answer is hard to find; because many causes, and some of them
obscure, have contributed to the result. But, as we observe the
kind of constitution and the mode of life of long-lived people,
in order to ascertain what kind of constitution and mode of life
conduce to longevity in people, so perhaps we may logically do
the same with nations.

Observing the constitution and mode of life of the British, French,
and German nations, we are struck at once with the fact that those
peoples have been by constitution active, ambitious, intelligent,
and brave; and that they have observed in their national life a
skilfully balanced relation between the arts of peace and the arts
of war; neglecting neither and allowing neither to wax great at the
expense of the other. In all those countries the _first_ aim has
been protection from both external attack and internal disorder.
Protection from external attack has been gained by military force
and highly trained diplomacy; protection from internal disorder
has been gained _first_ by military force, and _second_ by wise
laws, just courts, and the encouragement of religion and of those
arts and sciences that lead to comfort and happiness in living.

China may attract the attention of some as an instance of longevity;
but is China a nation in the usual meaning of the word? Certainly,
she is not a great nation. It is true that no other nation has
actually conquered her of late; but this has been largely by reason
of her remoteness from the active world, and because other nations
imposed their will upon her, without meeting any resistance that
required the use of war to overcome. And even China has not lived
a wholly peaceful life, despite the non-military character of her
people. Her whole history was one of wars, like that of other nations,
until the middle of the fourteenth century of our era. Since then,
she has had four wars, in all of which she has been whipped: one in
the seventeenth century when the country was successfully invaded,
and the native dynasty was overthrown by the Tartars of Manchuria;
one in 1840, when Great Britain compelled her to cede Hong-Kong
and to open five ports to foreign commerce, through which ports
opium could be introduced; one in 1860, with Great Britain and
France, that resulted in the capture of Pekin; and one with Japan
in 1894. Since that time (as well as before) China has been the
scene of revolutions and wide-spread disturbances, so that, even
though a peace-loving and non-resisting nation, peace has not reigned
within her borders. The last dynasty was overthrown in 1912. Since
then a feeble republic has dragged on a precarious existence,
interrupted by the very short reign of Yuan Shih K'ai.

This brief consideration of the trend of people up to the present
time seems to show that, owing to the nature of man himself, especially
to the nature of large "crowds" of men, the direction in which
nations have been moving hitherto has not been toward increasing
the prevalence of peace, but rather toward increasing the methods,
instruments, and areas of war; furthermore, that this direction of
movement has been necessary, in order to achieve and to maintain
prosperity in any nation.

This being the case, what forces exist that may reasonably be expected
to change that trend?

Three main forces are usually mentioned: Civilization, Commerce,
Christianity.

Before considering these it may be well to note Newton's first law
of motion, that every body will continue in a state of rest or of
uniform motion in a straight line unless acted on by some external
force; for though this law was affirmed of material bodies, yet its
applicability to large groups of men is striking and suggestive.
Not only do human beings have the physical attributes of weight and
inertia like other material bodies, but their mental organism,
while of a higher order than the physical, is as powerfully affected
by external forces. And though it is true that psychology has not
yet secured her Newton, and that no one has yet formulated a law
that expresses exactly the action of the minds and spirits of men
under the influence of certain mental and moral stimuli or forces,
yet we know that our minds and spirits are influenced by fear,
hope, ambition, hate, and so forth, in ways that are fairly well
understood and toward results that often can be predicted in advance.

Our whole theory of government and our laws of business and every-day
life are founded on the belief that men are the same to-day as
they were yesterday, and that they will be the same to-morrow. The
whole science of psychology is based on the observed and recorded
actions of the human organism under the influence of certain external
stimuli or forces, and starts from the assumption that this organism
has definite and permanent characteristics. If this is not so--if
the behavior of men in the past has not been governed by actual
laws which will also govern their behavior in the future--then
our laws of government are built on error, and the teachings of
psychology are foolish.

This does not mean that any man will necessarily act in the same
way to-morrow as he did yesterday, when subjected to the influence
of the same threat, inducement, or temptation; because, without
grappling the thorny question of free will, we realize that a man's
action is never the result of only one stimulus and motive, but
is the resultant of many; and we have no reason to expect that
he will act in the same way when subjected to the same stimulus,
unless we know that the internal and external conditions pertaining
to him are also the same. Furthermore, even if we cannot predict what
a certain individual will do, when exposed to a certain external
influence, because of some differences in his mental and physical
condition, on one occasion in comparison with another, yet when we
consider large groups of men, we know that individual peculiarities,
permanent and temporary, balance each other in great measure; that
the average condition of a group of men is less changeable than
that of one man, and that the degree of permanency of condition
increases with the number of men in the group. From this we may
reasonably conclude that, if we know the character of a man--or a
group of men--and if we know also the line of action which he--or
they-have followed in the past, we shall be able to predict his--or
their--line of action in the future with considerable accuracy;
and that the accuracy will increase with the number of men in the
group, and the length of time during which they have followed the
known line of action. Le Bon says: "Every race carries in its mental
constitution the laws of its destiny."

Therefore, the line of action that the entire human race has followed
during the centuries of the past is a good index--or at least the
best index that we have--to its line of action during the centuries
of the future.

Now, men have been on this earth for many years; and history and
psychology teach us that in their intercourse with each other,
their conduct has been caused by a combination of many forces,
among which are certain powerful forces that tend to create strife.
The strongest by far of these forces is the _ego_ in man himself,
a quality divinely implanted which makes a man in a measure
self-protecting. This ego prompts a man not only to seek pleasure
and avoid trouble for himself, but also to gain superiority, and,
if possible, the mastery over his fellow men. Men being placed in
life in close juxtaposition to each other, the struggles of each
man to advance his own interests produce rivalries, jealousies,
and conflicts.

Similarly with nations. Nations have been composed for the most
part of people having an heredity more or less common to them all,
so that they are bound together as great clans. From this it has
resulted that nations have been jealous of each other and have
combated each other. They have been doing this since history began,
and are doing it as much as ever now.

In fact, mankind have been in existence for so many centuries,
and their physical, moral, mental, and spiritual characteristics
were so evidently implanted in them by the Almighty, that it seems
difficult to see how any one, except the Almighty himself, can
change these characteristics and their resulting conduct. It is
a common saying that a man cannot lift himself over the fence by
his boot straps, though he can jump over the fence, if it is not
too high. This saying recognizes the fact that "a material system
can do no work on itself"; but needs external aid. When a man pulls
upward on his boot straps, the upward force that he exerts is exactly
balanced by the downward reaction exerted by his boot straps; but
when he jumps, the downward thrust of his legs causes an equal
reaction of the earth, which exerts a direct force upward upon
the man; and it is this external force that moves him over the
fence. It is this external force, the reaction of the earth or
air or water, which moves every animal that walks, or bird that
flies, or fish that swims. It is the will of the Almighty, acting
through the various stimuli of nature, that causes the desire to
walk, and all the emotions and actions of men. If He shall cause
any new force to act on men, their line of conduct will surely
change. But if He does not--how can it change, or be changed; how
can the human race turn about, by means of its own power only, and
move in a direction the reverse from that in which it has been
moving throughout all the centuries of the past?

These considerations seem to indicate that nations, regarded in
their relation toward each other, will go on in the direction in
which they have been going unless acted upon by some external force.

Will civilization, commerce, or Christianity impart that force?

Inasmuch as civilization is merely a condition in which men live, and
an expression of their history, character and aims, it is difficult
to see how it could of itself act as an external force, or cause an
external force to act. "Institutions and laws," says Le Bon, again,
"are the outward manifestation of our character, the expression of
its needs. Being its outcome, institutions and laws cannot change
this character."

Even if the civilization of a given nation may have been brought
about in some degree by forces external to that nation, yet it is
clear that we must regard that civilization rather as the result of
those forces than as a force itself. Besides, civilization has never
yet made the relations of nations with each other more unselfish,
civilized nations now and in the past, despite their veneer of
courtesy, being fully as jealous of each other as the most savage
tribes. That this should be so seems natural; because civilization
has resulted mainly from the attempts of individuals and groups to
enhance the pleasures and diminish the ills of life, and therefore
cannot tend to unselfishness in either individuals or nations.
Civilization in the past has not operated to soften the relations
of nations with each other, so why should it do so now? Is not
modern civilization, with its attendant complexities, rivalries,
and jealousies, provocative of quarrels rather than the reverse? In
what respect is modern civilization better than past civilization,
except in material conveniences due to material improvements in the
mechanic arts? Are we any more artistic, strong, or beautiful than
the Greeks in their palmy days? Are we braver than the Spartans,
more honest than the Chinese, more spiritual than the Hindoos,
more religious than the Puritans? Is not the superior civilization
of the present day a mechanical civilization pure and simple? And
has not the invention of electrical and mechanical appliances,
with the resulting insuring of communication and transportation,
and the improvements in instruments of destruction, advantaged
the great nations more than the weaker ones, and increased the
temptation to great nations to use force rather than decreased
it? Do not civilization's improvements in weapons of destruction
augment the effectiveness of warlike methods, as compared with
the peaceful methods of argument and persuasion?

Diplomacy is an agency of civilization that was invented to avoid
war, to enable nations to accommodate themselves to each other
without going to war; but, practically, diplomacy seems to have
caused almost as many wars as it has averted. And even if it be
granted that the influence of diplomacy has been in the main for
peace rather than for war, we know that diplomacy has been in use
for centuries, that its resources are well understood, and that
they have all been tried out many times; and therefore we ought
to realize clearly that diplomacy cannot introduce any new force
into international politics now, or exert, an influence for peace
that will be more potent in the future than the influence that
it has exerted in the past.

These considerations seem to show that we cannot reasonably expect
civilization to divert nations from the path they have followed
hitherto.

Can commerce impart the external force necessary to divert nations
from that path?

Since commerce bears exactly the same relation to nations now as
in times past, and since it is an agency within mankind itself, it
is difficult to see how it can act as an external force, or cause
an external force to be applied. Of course, commercial interests
are often opposed to national interests, and improvements in speed
and sureness of communication and transportation increase the size
and power of commercial organizations. But the same factors increase
the power of governments and the solidarity of nations. At no time
in the past has there been more national feeling in nations than
now. Even the loosely held provinces of China are forming a Chinese
nation. Despite the fundamental commercialism of the age, national
spirit is growing more intense, the present war being the main
intensifying cause. It is true that the interests of commerce are
in many ways antagonistic to those of war. But, on the other hand,
of all the causes that occasion war the economic causes are the
greatest. For no thing will men fight more savagely than for money;
for no thing have men fought more savagely than for money; and the
greater the rivalry, the more the man's life becomes devoted to
it, and the more fiercely he will fight to get or keep it. Surely
of all the means by which we hope to avoid war, the most hopeless
by far is commerce.

The greatest of all hopes is in Christianity, because of its inculcation
of love and kindliness, its obvious influence on the individual
in cultivating unselfishness and other peaceful virtues, and the
fact that it is an inspiration from on high, and therefore a force
external to mankind. But let us look the facts solemnly in the
face that the Christian religion has now been in effect for nearly
two thousand years; that the nations now warring are Christian
nations, in the very foremost rank of Christendom; that never in
history has there been so much bloodshed in such wide-spread areas
and so much hate, and that we see no signs that Christianity is
employing any influence that she has not been employing for nearly
two thousand years.

If we look for the influence of Christianity, we can find it in
the daily lives of people, in the family, in business, in politics,
and in military bodies; everywhere, in fact, in Christian countries,
so long as we keep inside of any organization the members of which
feel bound together. This we must all admit, even the heathen know
it; but where do we see any evidence of the sweetening effect of
Christianity in the dealings of one organization with another with
which it has no special bonds of friendship? Christianity is invoked
in every warring nation now to stimulate the patriotic spirit of
the nation and intensify the hate of the crowd against the enemy;
and even if we think that such invoking is a perversion of religious
influence to unrighteous ends, we must admit the fact that the
Christian religion itself is at this moment being made to exert
a powerful influence--not toward peace but toward war! And this
should not amaze us; for where does the Bible say or intimate that
love among nations will ever be brought about? The Saviour said:
"I bring not peace but a sword." So what reasonable hope does even
Christianity give us that war between nations will cease? And even if
it did give reasonable hope, let us realize that between reasonable
hope and reasonable expectation there is a great gulf fixed.

Therefore, we seem forced to the conclusion that the world will move
in the future in the same direction as in the past; that nations
will become larger and larger and fewer and fewer, the immediate
instrument of international changes being war; and that certain
nations will become very powerful and nearly dominate the earth
in turn, as Persia, Greece, Rome, Spain, France, and Great Britain
have done--and as some other country soon may do.

Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, a certain law of decadence
seems to have prevailed, because of which every nation, after acquiring
great power, has in turn succumbed to the enervating effects which
seem inseparable from it, and become the victim of some newer nation
that has made strenuous preparations for long years, in secret,
and finally pounced upon her as a lion on its prey.

Were it not for this tendency to decadence, we should expect that
the nations of the earth would ultimately be divided into two great
nations, and that these would contend for the mastery in a world-wide
struggle.

But if the present rate of invention and development continues,
improvements in the mechanic arts will probably cause such increase
in the power of weapons of destruction, and in the swiftness and
sureness of transportation and communication, that some _monster
of efficiency_ will have time to acquire world mastery before her
period of decadence sets in.

In this event, wars will be of a magnitude besides which the present
struggle will seem pygmy; and will rage over the surface of the
earth, for the gaining and retaining of the mastery of the world.




CHAPTER II

NAVAL A, B, C

In order to realize what principles govern the use of navies, let
us first consider what navies have to do and get history's data
as to what navies in the past have done. It would obviously be
impossible to recount here all the doings of navies. But neither
is it necessary; for the reason that, throughout the long periods
of time in which history records them, their activities have nearly
always been the same.

In all cases in which navies have been used for war there was the
preliminary dispute, often long-continued, between two peoples or
their rulers, and at last the decision of the dispute by force. In
all cases the decision went to the side that could exert the most
force at the critical times and places. The fact that the causes
of war have been civil, and not military, demands consideration, for
the reason that some people, confusing cause and effect, incline
to the belief that armies and navies are the cause of war, and that
they are to be blamed for its horrors. History clearly declares
the contrary, and shows that the only rôle of armies and navies
has been to wage wars, and, by waging, to finish them.

It may be well here, in order to clear away a possible preconception
by the reader, to try and dispel the illusion that army and navy
officers are eager for war, in order that they may get promotion.
This idea has been exploited by people opposed to the development
of the army and navy, and has been received with so much credulity
that it seriously handicaps the endeavors of officers to get an
unbiassed hearing. But surely the foolishness of such an idea would
promptly disappear from the brain of any one if he would remind
himself that simply because a man joins the army or navy he does
not cease to be a human being, with the same emotions of fear as
other men, the same sensitiveness to pain, the same dread of death,
and the same horror of leaving his family unsupported after his
death. It is true that men in armies and navies are educated to
dare death if need be; but the present writer has been through
two wars, has been well acquainted with army and navy officers for
forty-five years, and knows positively that, barring exceptions,
they do not desire war at all.

Without going into an obviously impossible discussion of all naval
wars, it may be instructive to consider briefly the four naval
wars in which the United States has engaged.

The first was the War of the American Revolution. This war is
instructive to those who contend that the United States is so far
from Europe as to be safe from attack by a European fleet; because
the intervening distance was frequently traversed then by British
and French fleets of frail, slow, sailing ships, which were vital
factors in the war. Without the British war-ships, the British
could not have landed and supported their troops. Without the French
war-ships the French could not have landed and supported their
troops, who, under Rochambeau, were also under Washington, and
gave him the assistance that he wofully needed, to achieve by arms
our independence.

The War of 1812 is instructive from the fact that, though the actions
of our naval ships produced little material effect, the skill,
daring, and success with which they were fought convinced Europeans
of the high character and consequent noble destiny of the American
people. The British were so superior in sea strength, however,
that they were able to send their fleet across the ocean and land
a force on the shores of Chesapeake Bay. This force marched to
Washington, attacked the city, and burned the Capitol and other
public buildings, with little inconvenience to itself.

The War of the Rebellion is instructive because it shows how two
earnest peoples, each believing themselves right, can be forced,
by the very sincerity of their convictions, to wage war against
each other; and because it shows how unpreparedness for war, with
its accompanying ignorance of the best way in which to wage it,
causes undue duration of a war and therefore needless suffering.
If the North had not closed its eyes so resolutely to the fact
of the coming struggle, it would have noted beforehand that the
main weakness of the Confederacy lay in its dependence on revenue
from cotton and its inability to provide a navy that could prevent
a blockade of its coasts; and the North would have early instituted
a blockade so tight that the Confederacy would have been forced
to yield much sooner than it did. The North would have made naval
operations the main effort, instead of the auxiliary effort; and
would have substituted for much of the protracted and bloody warfare
of the land the quickly decisive and comparatively merciful warfare
of the sea.

In the Spanish War the friction between the United States and Spain
was altogether about Cuba. No serious thought of the invasion of
either country was entertained, no invasion was attempted, and
the only land engagements were some minor engagements in Cuba and
the Philippines. The critical operations were purely naval. In the
first of these, Commodore Dewey's squadron destroyed the entire
Far Eastern squadron of the Spanish in Manila Bay; in the second,
Admiral Sampson's squadron destroyed the entire Atlantic squadron of
the Spanish near Santiago de Cuba. The two naval victories compelled
Spain to make terms of peace practically as the United States wished.
Attention is invited to the fact that this war was not a war of
conquest, was not a war of aggression, was not a war of invasion,
was not a war carried on by either side for any base purpose; but
was in its intention and its results for the benefit of mankind.

The Russo-Japanese War was due to conflicting national policies.
While each side accused the other of selfish ends, it is not apparent
to a disinterested observer that either was unduly selfish in its
policy, or was doing more than every country ought to advance the
interests and promote the welfare of its people. Russia naturally
had a great deal of interest in Manchuria, and felt that she had
a right to expand through the uncivilized regions of Manchuria,
especially since she needed a satisfactory outlet to the sea. In
other words, the interests of Russia were in the line of its expanding
to the eastward. But Japan's interests were precisely the reverse of
Russia's--that is, Japan's interests demanded that Russia should not
do those things that Russia wanted to do. Japan felt that Russia's
movement toward the East was bringing her entirely too close to
Japan. Russia was too powerful a country, and too aggressive, to
be trusted so close. Japan had the same feeling toward Russia that
any man might have on seeing another man, heavily armed, gradually
coming closer to him in the night. Japan especially wished that
Russia should have no foothold in Corea, feeling, as she expressed
it, that the point of Corea under Russian power would be a dagger
directed at the heart of Japan. This feeling about Corea was the
same feeling that every country has about land near her; it has
a marked resemblance to the feeling that the United States has
embodied in Monroe Doctrine.

After several years of negotiation in which Japan and Russia endeavored
to secure their respective aims by diplomacy, diplomacy was finally
abandoned and the sword taken up instead. Japan, _because of the
superior foresight of her statesmen_, was the first to realize
that diplomacy must fail, was the first to realize that she must
prepare for war, was the first to begin adequate preparation for
war, was the first to complete preparation for war, was the first
to strike, and in consequence was the victor. Yet Russia was a
very much larger, richer, more populous country than Japan.

Russia sent large forces of soldiers to Manchuria by the trans-Siberian
railroad, and Japan sent large forces there by transports across the
Sea of Japan. Japan could not prevent the passage of soldiers by
the railroad, but Russia could prevent the passage of transports
across the Japan Sea, provided her fleet could overcome the Japanese
fleet and get command of the sea. Russia had a considerable fleet
in the Far East; but she had so underestimated the naval ability
of the Japanese, that the Russian fleet proved unequal to the task;
and the Japanese gradually reduced it to almost nothing, with very
little loss to themselves.

Russia then sent out another fleet. The Japanese met this fleet on
the 27th of May, 1904, near the Island of Tsushima, between Corea
and Japan. The battle was decided in about an hour. The Japanese
sank practically all the Russian ships before the battle was entirely
finished, with comparatively small loss to Japan. This battle was
carried on 12,000 miles by sea route from Saint Petersburg. No
invasion of Russia or Japan was contemplated, or attempted, and
yet the naval battle decided the issue of the war completely, and
was followed by a treaty of peace very shortly afterward.

These wars show us, as do all wars in which navies have engaged,
that the function of a navy is not only to defend the coast in
the sense of preventing an enemy from landing on it, but also to
exert force far distant from the coast. The study of war has taught
its students for many centuries that a merely passive defense will
finally be broken down, and that the most effective defense is
the "offensive-defensive."

Perhaps the clearest case of a correct offensive-defensive is Nelson's
defense of England, which he carried on in the Mediterranean, in
the West Indies, and wherever the enemy fleet might be, finally
defeating Napoleon's plan for invading England--not by waiting off
the coast of England, but by attacking and crippling Napoleon's
fleet off the Spanish coast near Trafalgar.

The idea held by many people that the defense of a country can
be effected by simply preventing the invasion of its coasts, is a
little like the notion of uneducated people that a disease can be
cured by suppressing its symptoms. For even a successful defense
of a coast against invasion by a hostile force cannot remove the
inimical influence to a country's commerce and welfare which that
hostile force exerts, any more than palliatives can cure dyspepsia.
Every intelligent physician knows that the only way to cure a disease
is to remove its cause; and every intelligent military or naval man
knows that history teaches that the only way in which a country
can defend itself successfully against an enemy is to defeat the
armed force of that enemy--be it a force of soldiers on the land, or
a force of war-ships on the sea. In naval parlance, "our objective
is the enemy's fleet."

If the duty of a navy be merely to prevent the actual invasion
of its country's coasts, a great mistake has been made by Great
Britain, France, and other countries in spending so much money
on their navies, and in giving so much attention to the education
and training of their officers and enlisted men. To prevent actual
invasion would be comparatively an easy task, one that could be
performed by rows of forts along the coast, supplemented by mines
and submarines. If that is the only kind of defense required, navies
are hardly needed. The army in each country could man the forts
and operate the mines, and a special corps of the army could even
operate the submarines, which (if their only office is to prevent
actual invasion) need hardly leave the "three-mile limit" that
skirts the coasts. If the people of any country do not care to have
dealings outside; if the nation is willing to be in the position
of a man who is safe so long as he stays in the house, but is afraid
to go outdoors, the problem of national defense is easy.

But if the people desire to prevent interference with what our
Constitution calls "the general welfare," the problem becomes
exceedingly complex and exceedingly grave--more complex and grave
than any other problem that they have. If they desire that their
ships shall be free to sail the seas, and their citizens to carry
on business and to travel in other lands; and if they desire that
their merchants shall be able to export their wares and their farmers
their grain, also that the people shall be able to import the things
they wish from foreign countries, then they must be able to exert
actual physical force on the ocean at any point where vessels carrying
their exports and imports may be threatened. Naval ships are the
only means for doing this.

The possibility that an armed force sent to a given point at sea
might have to fight an enemy force, brought about first the sending of
more than one vessel, and later--as the mechanic arts progressed--the
increasing of the size of individual vessels, and later still the
development of novel types.

There are two main reasons for building a small number of large
ships rather than a large number of small ships. The first reason
is that large ships are much more steady, reliable, safe, and fast
than small ships. The second reason is that, when designed for
any given speed, the large ships have more space available for
whatever is to be carried; one 15-knot ship of 20,000 tons normal
displacement, for instance, has about one and a half times as much
space available for cargo, guns, and what-not, as four 15-knot
ships of 5,000 tons each. These two reasons apply to merchant ships
as well as naval ships. A third reason applies to naval vessels
only, and is that a few large ships can be handled much better
together than a large number of small ships, and embody that
"concentration of force" which it is the endeavor of strategy and
tactics to secure. A fourth reason is the obvious one that large
ships can carry larger guns than small ships.

The distinctly military (naval) purpose for which a war-ship is
designed necessitates, first, that in addition to her ability to
go rapidly and surely from place to place, she be able to exert
physical force against an enemy ship or fort, and, second, that
she have protection against the fire of guns and torpedoes from
enemy ships and forts, against bombs dropped from aircraft, and
against mines.

This means that a man-of-war, intended to exert the maximum of
physical force against an enemy and to be able to withstand the
maximum of punishment, must have guns and torpedoes for offense,
and must have armor and cellular division of the hull for defense;
the armor to keep out the enemy's shells, and the cellular division
of the hull to prevent the admission of more water than can fill
one water-tight compartment in case the ship is hit.

It must be admitted here that, at the present moment, torpedoes
hold such large charges of explosive that the cellular division of
ships does not adequately protect them. This means that a contest
has been going on between torpedo-makers and naval constructors like
the contest between armor-makers and gunmakers, and that just now the
torpedo-makers are in the lead. For this reason a battleship needs
other protection than that imparted by its cellular subdivision.
This is given by its "torpedo defense battery" of minor guns of
about 5-inch calibre.

By reason of the great vulnerability of all ships to attack below
the water-line, the torpedo was invented and developed. In its
original form, the torpedo was motionless in the water, either
anchored to the ground, or floating on the surface, and was in
fact what now is called a "mine." But forty-eight years ago an
Englishman named Whitehead invented the automobile, auto-steering,
torpedo, which still bears his name. This torpedo is used in all
the navies, and is launched on its mission from battleships, battle
cruisers, destroyers, submarines, and other craft of various kinds.

Most torpedoes are to be found in destroyers--long, fast, frail
vessels, averaging about 700 tons displacement, that are intended to
dash at enemy ships at night, or under other favorable conditions,
launch their torpedoes, and hurry away. The torpedo is "a weapon
of opportunity." It has had a long, slow fight for its existence;
but its success during the present war has established it firmly
in naval warfare.

The submarine has followed the destroyer, and some people think
will supplant it; though its relatively slow speed prevents those
dashes that are the destroyer's rôle. The submarine is, however,
a kind of destroyer that is submersible, in which the necessities
of submersibility preclude great speed. The submarine was designed
to accomplish a clear and definite purpose--a secret under-water
attack on an enemy's ship in the vicinity. It has succeeded so well
in its limited mission that some intelligent people declare that
we need submarines only--ignoring the fact that, even if submarines
could successfully prevent actual invasion, they could not carry
on operations at a distance from their base of supplies. It is
true that submarines may be made so large that they can steam at
great speed from place to place, as capital ships steam now, carry
large supplies of fuel and food, house their crews hygienically,
and need no "mother ship" or tender. But if submarines achieve
such size, they will be more expensive to build and run than
battleships--and will be, in fact, submersible battleships. In
other words, the submarine cannot displace the battleship, but may
be developed and evolved into a new and highly specialized type
of battleship.

The necessity for operating at long distances from a base carries
with it the necessity for supplying more fuel than even a battleship
can carry; and this means that colliers must be provided. In most
countries, the merchant service is so large that colliers can be
taken from it, but in the United States no adequate merchant marine
exists, and so it is found necessary to build navy colliers and
have them in the fleet. The necessity for continuously supplying
food and ammunition to the fleet necessitates supply ships and
ammunition ships; but the problem of supplying food and ammunition
is not so difficult as that of supplying fuel, for the reason that
they are consumed more slowly.

In order to take care of the sick and wounded, and prevent them from
hampering the activities of the well, hospital ships are needed.
Hospital ships should, of course, be designed for that purpose
before being constructed; but usually hospital ships were originally
passenger ships, and were adapted to hospital uses later.

The menace of the destroyer--owing to the sea-worthiness which this
type has now achieved, and to the great range which the torpedo
has acquired--has brought about the necessity of providing external
protection to the battleships; and this is supplied by a "screen"
of cruisers and destroyers, whose duty is to keep enemy destroyers
and (so far as is practicable) the submarines at a safe distance.

We now see why a fleet must be composed of various types of vessels.
At the present moment, the battleship is the primary, or paramount
type, the others secondary, because the battleship is the type
that can exert the most force, stand the hardest punishment, steam
the farthest in all kinds of weather, and in general, serve her
country the best.

Of course, "battleship" is merely a name, and some think not a
very good name, to indicate a ship that can take the part in battle
that used to be taken by the "ship of the line." The reason for
its primacy is fundamental: its displacement or total weight--the
same reason that assured the primacy of the ship of the line. For
displacement rules the waves; if "Britannia rules the waves," it
is simply because Britannia has more displacement than any other
Power.

The fleet needs to have a means of knowing where the enemy is, how
many ships he has, what is their character, the direction in which
they are steaming, and their speed. To accomplish this purpose,
"scouts" are needed--fast ships, that can steam far in all kinds
of weather and send wireless messages across great distances. So
far as their scout duties go, such vessels need no guns whatever,
and no torpedoes; but because the enemy will see the scout as soon
as the scout sees the enemy, and because the enemy will try to
drive away the scout by gun and torpedo fire, the scouts must be
armed. And this necessity is reinforced by the necessity of driving
off an enemy's scouts.

In foreign navies the need for getting information in defiance
of an enemy's attempts to prevent it, and to drive off the armed
scouts of an enemy, has been one of the prime reasons for developing
"battle cruisers," that combine the speed of the destroyer with
the long steaming radius of the battleship, a battery almost as
strong, and a very considerable protection by armor.

The aeroplane and the air-ship are recent accessions to the list of
fighting craft. Their rôle in naval warfare cannot yet be defined,
because the machines themselves have not yet reached an advanced
stage of development, and their probable performance cannot be
forecast. There is no doubt, however, in the minds of naval men
that the rôle of aircraft is to be important and distinguished.




CHAPTER III

NAVAL POWER

Mahan proved that sea power has exercised a determining influence on
history. He proved that sea power has been necessary for commercial
success in peace and military success in war. He proved that, while
many wars have culminated with the victory of some army, the victory
of some navy had been the previous essential. He proved that the
immediate cause of success had often resulted inevitably from another
cause, less apparent because more profound; that the operations of
the navy had previously brought affairs up to the "mate in four
moves," and that the final victory of the army was the resulting
"checkmate."

Before Mahan proved his doctrine, it was felt in a general way
that sea power was necessary to the prosperity and security of
a nation. Mahan was not the first to have this idea, for it had
been in the minds of some men, and in the policy of one nation,
for more than a century. Neither was Mahan the first to put forth
the idea in writing; but he was the first to make an absolute
demonstration of the truth. Newton was not the first man to know,
or to say, that things near the earth tend to fall to the earth; but
he was the first to formulate and prove the doctrine of universal
gravitation. In the same way, all through history, we find that
a few master minds have been able to group what had theretofore
seemed unrelated phenomena, and deduce from them certain laws.
In this way they substituted reasoning for speculation, fact for
fancy, wisdom for opportunism, and became the guides of the human
race.

The effect of the acceptance of Mahan's doctrine was felt at once.
Realizing that the influence of sea power was a fact, comprehending
Great Britain's secret, after Mahan had disclosed it, certain other
great nations of the world, especially Germany, immediately started
with confidence and vigor upon the increase of their own sea power,
and pushed it to a degree before unparalleled; with a result that
must have been amazing to the man who, more than any other, was
responsible for it.

Since the words "sea power," or their translation, is a recognized
phrase the world over, and since the power of sea power is greater
than ever before, and is still increasing, it may be profitable
to consider sea power as an entity, and to inquire what are its
leading characteristics, and in what it mainly consists.

There is no trouble in defining what the sea is, but there is a
good deal of trouble in defining what power is. If we look in a
dictionary, we shall find a good many definitions of power; so
many as to show that there are many different kinds of power, and
that when we read of "power," it is necessary to know what kind of
power is meant. Clearly "sea power" means power on the sea. But
what kind of power? There are two large classes into which power
may be divided, passive and active. Certainly we seem justified,
at the start, in declaring that the power meant by Mahan was not
passive, but active. Should this be granted, we cannot be far from
right if we go a step further, and declare that sea power means
ability to do something on the sea.

If we ask what the something is that sea power has ability to do,
we at once perceive that sea power may be divided into two parts,
commercial power and naval power.

The power exerted by commercial sea power is clearly that exerted by
the merchant service, and is mainly the power of acquiring money. It
is true that the merchant service has the power of rendering certain
services in war, especially the power of providing auxiliary vessels,
and of furnishing men accustomed to the sea; but as time goes on the
power contributable by the merchant service must steadily decrease,
because of the relatively increasing power of the naval service, and
the rapidly increasing difference between the characteristics of
ships and men suitable for the merchant service and those suitable
for the naval service.

But even in the past, while the importance of the merchant service was
considerable in the ways just outlined, it may perhaps be questioned
whether it formed an element of _sea power_, in the sense in which
Mahan discussed sea power. The power of every country depends on all
the sources of its wealth: on its agriculture, on its manufacturing
activities, and even more directly on the money derived from exports.
But these sources of wealth and all sources of wealth, including
the merchant service, can hardly be said to be elements of power
themselves, but rather to be elements for whose protection power
is required.

In fact, apart from its usefulness in furnishing auxiliaries, it
seems certain that the merchant service has been an element of
_weakness_. The need for navies arose from the weakness of merchant
ships and the corresponding necessity for assuring them safe voyages
and proper treatment even in time of peace; while in time of war
they have always been an anxious care, and have needed and received
the protection of fighting ships that have been taken away from
the fleet to act as convoys.

If commercial sea power was not the power meant by Mahan, then he
must have meant naval power. And if one reads the pages of history
with patient discrimination, the conviction must grow on him that
what really constituted the sea power which had so great an influence
on history, was _naval_ power; not the power of simply ships upon
the sea, but the power of a navy composed of ships able to fight,
manned by men trained to fight, under the command of captains skilled
to fight, and led by admirals determined to fight. Trafalgar was
not won by the merchant service; nor Mobile, Manila, or Tsushima.

If sea power be essentially naval power, it may be interesting to
inquire: In what does naval power consist and what are its principal
characteristics?

If one looks at a fleet of war-ships on the sea, he will be impressed
consciously or unconsciously with the idea of power. If he is impressed
consciously, he will see that the fleet represents power in the
broadest sense--power active and power passive; power to do and
power to endure; power to exert force and power to resist it.

If he goes further and analyzes the reasons for this impression
of power, he will see that it is not merely a mental suggestion,
but a realization of the actual existence of tremendous mechanical
power, under complete direction and control.

In mechanics we get a definition of power, which, like all definitions
in mechanics, is clear, definite, and correct. In mechanics, power
is the rate at which mechanical work is performed. It is ability
to do something in a certain definite time.

Now this definition gives us a clear idea of the way in which a
navy directly represents power, because the power which a navy
exerts is, primarily, mechanical; and any other power which it
exerts is secondary and derived wholly from its mechanical power.
The power of a gun is due wholly to the mechanical energy of its
projectile, which enables it to penetrate a resisting body; and
the power of a moving ship is due wholly to the mechanical energy
of the burning coal within its furnaces.

It may be objected that it is not reasonable to consider a ship's
energy of motion as an element of naval power, in the mechanical
sense in which we have been using the word "power," for the reason
that it could be exerted only by the use of her ram, an infrequent
use. To this it may be answered that energy is energy, no matter
to what purpose it is applied; that a given projectile going at
a given speed has a certain energy, whether it strikes its target
or misses it; and that a battleship going at a certain speed must
necessarily have a certain definite energy, no matter whether it
is devoted to ramming another ship or to carrying itself and its
contents from one place to another.

Besides the mechanical power exerted by the mere motion of the
ship, and often superior to it, there is the power of her guns and
torpedoes.

Perhaps the most important single invention ever made was the invention
of gunpowder. Why? Because it put into the hands of man a tremendous
force, compressed into a very small volume, which he could use
instantaneously or refrain from using at his will. Its first use
was in war; and in war has been its main employment ever since.
War gives the best field for the activity of gunpowder, because
in war, we always wish to exert a great force at a definite point
at a given instant; usually in order to _penetrate_ the bodies of
men, or some defensive work that protects them. Gunpowder is the
principal agent used in war up to the present date. It is used
by both armies and navies, but navies use it in larger masses,
fired in more powerful guns.

Of course this does not mean that it would be impossible to send
a lot of powder to a fort, more than a fleet could carry, and fire
it; but it does mean that history shows that forts have rarely
been called upon to fire much powder, that their lives have been
serene, and that most of the powder fired on shore has been fired
by infantry using muskets--though a good deal has been fired by
field and siege artillery.

Leaving forts out of consideration and searching for something
else in which to use gunpowder on a large scale, we come to
siege-pieces, field-pieces, and muskets. Disregarding siege-pieces
and field-pieces, for the reason that the great variety of types
makes it difficult to compare them with navy guns, we come to muskets.

Now the musket is an extremely formidable weapon, and has, perhaps,
been the greatest single contributor to the victory of civilization
over barbarism, and order over anarchy, that has ever existed up to
the present time. But the enormous advances in engineering, including
ordnance, during the last fifty years, have reduced enormously the
relative value of the musket. Remembering that energy, or the ability
to do work, is expressed by the formula: E=1/2 MV^2, remembering
that the projectile of the modern 12-inch gun starts at about 2,900
f. s. velocity and weighs 867 pounds, while the bullet of a musket
weighs only 150 grains and starts with a velocity of 2,700 feet
per second, we see that the energy of the 12-inch projectile is
about 47,000 times that of the bullet on leaving the muzzle. But
after the bullet has gone, say 5,000 yards, its energy has fallen
to zero, while the energy of the 12-inch projectile is nearly the
same as when it started.

While it would be truthful, therefore, to say that the energy of
the 12-inch gun within 5,000 yards is greater than that of 47,000
muskets, it would also be truthful to say that outside of 5,000
yards, millions of muskets would not be equal to one 12-inch gun.

Not only is the 12-inch gun a weapon incomparably great, compared
with the musket, but when placed in a naval ship, it possesses a
portability which, while not an attribute of the gun itself, is
an attribute of the combination of gun and ship, and a distinct
attribute of naval power. A 12-inch gun placed in a fort may be
just as good as a like gun placed in a ship, but it has no power
to exert its power usefully unless some enemy comes where the gun
can hit it. And when one searches the annals of history for the
records of whatever fighting forts have done, he finds that they
have been able to do very little. But a 12-inch gun placed in a
man-of-war can be taken where it is needed, and recent history
shows that naval 12-inch guns, modern though they are, have already
done effective work in war.

Not only are 12-inch guns powerful and portable, but modern mechanical
science has succeeded in so placing them in our ships that they can
be handled with a precision, quickness, and delicacy that have
no superior in any other branch of engineering. While granting
the difficulty of an exact comparison, I feel no hesitation in
affirming that the greatest triumph of the engineering art in handling
heavy masses is to be found in the turret of a battleship. Here
again, and even inside of 5,000 yards, we find the superiority
of the great gun over the musket, as evidenced by its accuracy in
use. No soldier can fire his musket, even on a steady platform,
himself and target stationary, and the range known perfectly, as
accurately as a gun-pointer can fire a 12-inch gun; and if gun
and target be moving, and the wind be blowing, and the range only
approximately known, as is always the case in practice, the advantage
of the big gun in accuracy becomes incomparable.

But it is not only the big projectile itself which has energy, for
this projectile carries a large charge of high explosive, which
exploding some miles away from where it started, exerts a power
inherent in itself, that was exhibited with frightful effect at
the battles of Tsushima and the Skagerak.

This brings us to the auto-torpedo, a weapon recently perfected;
in fact not perfected yet. Here is another power that science has
put into the hands of naval men in addition to those she had already
put there. The auto-torpedo, launched in security from below the
water-line of the battleship, or from a destroyer or submarine,
can be directed in a straight line over a distance and with a speed
that are constantly increasing with the improvement of the weapon.
At the present moment, a speed of 27 knots over 10,000 yards can
be depended on, with a probability that on striking an enemy's
ship below the water-line it will disable that ship, if not sink
her. There seems no doubt that, in a very few years, the systematic
experiments now being applied to the development of the torpedo
will result in a weapon which can hardly be called inferior to
the 12-inch or even 16-inch gun and will probably surpass it.

_Controllability_.--If one watches a fleet of ships moving on the
sea, he gets an impression of tremendous power. But if he watches
Niagara, or a thunder-storm, he also gets an impression of tremendous
power. But the tremendous power of Niagara, or the thunder-storm,
is a power that belongs to Niagara or the thunder-storm, and not to
man. Man cannot control the power of Niagara or the thunder-storm;
but he can control the power of a fleet.

Speaking, then, from the standpoint of the human being, one may say
that the fleet has the element of controllability, while Niagara
and the thunder-storm have not. One man can make the fleet go faster
or slower or stop; he can increase its power of motion or decrease
it at his will; he can reduce it to zero. He cannot do so with
the forces of nature.

_Directability_.--Not only can one man control the power of the
fleet, he can also direct it; that is, can turn it to the right
or the left as much as he wishes. But one man cannot change the
direction of motion of Niagara or the lightning-bolt.

_Power, Controllability, and Directability_.--We may say, then,
that a fleet combines the three elements of mechanical power,
controllability, and directability.

_The Unit of Military Power_.--This is an enormous power that has
come into the hands of the naval nations; but it has come so newly
that we do not appreciate it yet. One reason why we do not and cannot
appreciate it correctly is that no units have been established by
which to measure it.

To supply this deficiency, the author begs leave to point out that,
since the military power of every nation has until recently been
its army, of which the unit has been the soldier, whose power has
rested wholly in his musket, the musket has actually been the unit
of military power. In all history, the statement of the number of
men in each army has been put forward by historians as giving the
most accurate idea of their fighting value; and in modern times,
nearly all of these men have been armed with muskets only.

It has been said already that the main reason why the invention
of gunpowder was so important was that it put into the hands of
man a tremendous mechanical power compressed into a very small
space, which man could use or not use at his will. This idea may
be expressed by saying that gunpowder combines power and great
controllability. But it was soon discovered that this gunpowder,
put into a tube with a bullet in front of it, could discharge that
bullet in any given direction. A musket was the result, and it
combined the three requisites of a weapon--mechanical power,
controllability, and directability.

While the loaded gun is perhaps the clearest example of the combination
of the three factors we are speaking of, the moving ship supplies
the next best example. It has very much greater mechanical power;
and in proportion to its mass, almost as much controllability and
directability.

The control and direction of a moving ship are very wonderful things;
but the very ease with which they are exercised makes us overlook
the magnitude of the achievement and the perfection of the means
employed. It may seem absurd to speak of one man controlling and
directing a great ship, but that is pretty nearly what happens
sometimes; for sometimes the man at the wheel is the only man on
board doing anything at all; and he is absolutely directing the
entire ship. At such times (doubtless they are rare and short)
the man at the wheel on board, say the _Vaterland_, is directing
unassisted by any human being a mass of 65,000 tons, which is going
through the water at a speed of 24 knots, or 27 miles, an hour,
nearly as fast as the average passenger-train. In fact, it would
be very easy to arrange on board the _Vaterland_ that this should
actually happen; that everybody should take a rest for a few minutes,
coal-passers, water-tenders, oilers, engineers, and the people
on deck. And while such an act might have no particular value,
_per se_, and prove nothing important, yet, nevertheless, a brief
reflection on the possibility may be interesting, and lead us to
see clearly into the essential nature of what is here called
"directability." The man at the wheel on board the _Vaterland_,
so long as the fires burn and the oil continues to lubricate the
engines, has a power in his hands that is almost inconceivable.
The ship that he is handling weighs more than the 870,000 men that
comprise the standing army of Germany.

Now can anybody imagine the entire standing army of Germany being
carried along at 27 miles an hour and turned almost instantly to the
right or left by one man? The standing army of Germany is supposed
to be the most directable organization in the world; but could
the Emperor of Germany move that army at a speed of 27 miles an
hour and turn it as a whole (not its separate units) through 90
degrees in three minutes?

The _Vaterland_ being a merchant ship and not fully representing naval
power, perhaps it might be better to take, say, the _Pennsylvania_.
The weight is about half that of the _Vaterland_, that is, it is
nearly twice the weight of the men of the British standing army;
and the usual speed is about, say, 15 knots. But in addition to
all the power of the ship, as a ship, or an energy greater than
that of 275,000 muskets, she has the power of all the guns, twelve
14-inch guns, and twenty-two 5-inch guns, whose projectiles, not
including the torpedoes fired from four torpedo-tubes, have an
energy at the muzzle equal to 750,000 muskets, seven-eighths of
all the muskets in the German standing army. Now any one who has
seen a battleship at battle practice knows that all the various
tremendous forces are under excellent direction and control. And
while it cannot be strictly said that they are absolutely under
the direction and control of the captain, while it must be admitted
that no one man can really direct so many rapidly moving things,
yet it is certainly well within the truth to say that the ship
and all it contains are very much more under the control of her
captain than the German standing army is under the control of the
Kaiser. The captain, acting through the helmsman, chief engineer,
gunnery officer, and executive officer, can get very excellent
information as to what is going on, and can have his orders carried
out with very little delay; but the mere space occupied by an army
of 870,000 men, and the unavoidable dispersion of its units prevent
any such exact control.

In other words, the captain of the _Pennsylvania_ wields a weapon
more mechanically powerful than all the muskets of the German standing
army: and his control of it is more absolute than is the Kaiser's
control of that army.

_Mechanism vs. Men_.--Now what is the essential reason for the
efficient direction exercised by the helmsman of the _Pennsylvania_,
and the relative impotency of generals? Is it not that the helmsman
acts through the medium of mechanism, while the generals act through
the medium of men? A ship is not only made of rigid metal, but all
her parts are fastened together with the utmost rigidity; while
the parts of an army are men, who are held together by no means
whatever except that which discipline gives, and the men themselves
are far from rigid. In the nature of things it is impossible that
an army should be directed as perfectly as a ship. The rudder of a
ship is a mechanical appliance that can be depended upon to control
the direction of the ship absolutely, while an army has no such
a thing as a rudder, or anything to take its place. Again, the
rudder is only a few hundred feet from the helmsman, and the
communication between them, including the steering-engine itself,
is a strong reliable mechanism that has no counterpart in the army.

The control of the main engines of a ship is almost as absolute
as the control of the rudder; and the main engines are not only
much more powerful than the legs of soldiers, but they act together
in much greater harmony.

_Inherent Power of a Battleship_.--Possibly the declaration may be
accepted now that a battleship of 30,000 tons, such as the navies
are building now, with, say, twelve 14-inch guns is a greater example
of power, under the absolute direction and control than anything
else existing; and that the main reason is the concentration of
a tremendous amount of mechanical energy in a very small space,
all made available by certain properties of water. Nothing like
a ship can be made to run on shore; but if an automobile could
be constructed, carrying twelve 14-inch guns, twenty-two 5-inch
guns, and four torpedo-tubes, of the size of the _Pennsylvania_,
and with her armor, able to run over the land in any direction at
20 knots, propelled by engines of 31,000 horse-power, it could
whip an army of a million men just as quickly as it could get hold
of its component parts. Such a machine could start at one end of
an army and go through to the other like a mowing-machine through
a field of wheat; and knock down all the buildings in New York
afterward, smash all the cars, break down all the bridges, and sink
all the shipping.

_Inherent Power of a Fleet_.--An idea of the power exertable by a
fleet of modern ships may be derived from the following comparison.

When Sherman made his wonderful march to the sea from Atlanta to
Savannah, he made a march whose details are historically known,
which was unopposed, which was over a flat country, in good weather,
and without the aid of railroad-trains. It was a march, pure and
simple; and inasmuch as men are the same now as they were then, it
gives excellent data of the way in which purely military or army
power can move from one place to another, _while still preserving
its character and exercising its functions_. Similarly, when Admiral
Schroeder, in November, 1910, went from the east coast of the United
States to the English Channel, his march was unopposed, its details
are known, and it gave an excellent illustration of how naval power
can move from one place to another, _while still preserving its
character and exercising its functions_.

Now General Sherman was a man of world-wide fame, and so were some
of his generals, and Sherman's fame will last for centuries. Compared
with Sherman, Admiral Schroeder was obscure; and compared with
Sherman's officers, Admiral Schroeder's were obscure. Sherman's
soldiers, privates and all, were made glorious for the rest of
their lives by having been in Sherman's march to the sea, while
Admiral Schroeder's sailors achieved no glory at all. So, the next
paragraph is not intended to detract in the slightest from Sherman
and his army, but simply to point out the change in conditions
that mechanical progress has brought about.

The statement of comparison is simply that when General Sherman
marched from Atlanta to the sea his army composed 62,000 men, and
it took him twenty-five days to go about 230 land miles or 200 sea
miles; and when Admiral Schroeder went from our coast to Europe he
had 16 ships, and he made the trip of more than 3,000 sea miles in
less than fourteen days. Disregarding twenty-eight 5-inch guns, two
hundred and fifty-two 3-inch guns, and a lot of smaller guns, and
disregarding all the torpedoes, Admiral Schroeder took eighty-four
12-inch guns, ninety-six 8-inch guns, eighty-eight 7-inch guns,
and forty-eight 6-inch guns, _all mounted and available_; which,
assuming the power of the modern musket as a unit, equalled more
than 5,000,000 modern muskets.

Such an enormous transfer of absolute, definite, available power
would be impossible on land, simply because no means has been devised
to accomplish it. Such a transfer on land would be the transfer
of ninety times as many soldiers as Sherman had (even supposing
they had modern muskets) over fifteen times the distance and at
thirty times the speed; and as the work done in going from one
place to another varies practically as the square of the speed, a
transfer on land equivalent in magnitude and speed to Schroeder's
would be a performance 90 x 15 x 30^2= 1,215,000 times as great
as Sherman's.

This may seem absurd, and perhaps it is; but why? The comparison
is not between the qualities of the men or between the results
achieved. Great results often are brought about by very small forces,
as when some state of equilibrium is disturbed, and vice versa. The
comparison attempted is simply between the _power_ of a certain
army and the power of a certain fleet. And while it is true that,
for some purposes, such as overcoming small resistance, great power
may not be as efficacious as feeble power or even gentleness, yet,
nevertheless, it must be clear that, for the overcoming of _great_
resistance quickly great power must be applied.

The existence of a certain power is quite independent of the
desirability of using it. The existence of the power is all the
writer wishes to insist upon at present; the question of its employment
will be considered later.

Not only is the power of a fleet immeasurably greater than that of
an army, but it must always be so, from the very nature of things.
The speed of an army, _while exercising the functions of an army_,
and the power of a musket, while exercising its functions as a
weapon of one soldier, cannot change much from what they were when
Sherman went marching through Georgia. But, thanks to mechanical
science, there is no limit in sight to the power to which a fleet
may attain.

The power of a navy is of recent growth, but it is increasing and
is going to continue to increase. Every advance of civilization will
advance the navy. Every new discovery and invention will directly
or indirectly serve it. The navy, more than any other thing, will
give opportunity for mechanism and to mechanism. Far beyond any
possible imagination of to-day, it will become the highest expression
of the Genius of Mechanism, and the embodiment of its spirit.

The amount of money now being spent by the United States on its
navy is so great that the expenditure can be justified only on
the basis that great naval power is essential to the country.

Is it essential, and if so, why?

_Primary Use for a Navy_.--To answer this wisely, it may be well
to remind ourselves that the principal object of all the vocations
of men is directly or indirectly the acquiring of money. Money, of
course, is not wealth; but it is a thing which can be so easily
exchanged for wealth, that it is the thing which most people work
for. Of course, at bottom, the most important work is the getting
of food out of the ground; but inasmuch as people like to congregate
together in cities, the thing taken out of the ground in one place
must be transported to other places; and inasmuch as every person
wants every kind of thing that he can get, a tremendous system of
interchange, through the medium of money, has been brought about,
which is called "trade." For the protection of property and life, and
in order that trade may exist at all, an enormous amount of human
machinery is employed which we call "government." This government
is based on innumerable laws, but these laws would be of no avail
unless they were carried out; and every nation in the world has
found that employment of a great deal of force is necessary in
order that they shall be carried out. This force is mainly exercised
by the police of the cities; but many instances have occurred in
the history of every country where the authority of the police
has had to be supported by the army of the national government.
There is no nation in the world, and there never has been one,
in which the enforcement of the necessary laws for the protection
of the lives, property, and trade of the people has not depended
ultimately on the army; and the reason why the army could enforce
the laws was simply the fact that the army had the power to inflict
suffering and death.

As long as a maritime country carried on trade within its own borders
exclusively, as long as it lived within itself, so long as its
people did not go to countries oversea, a navy was not necessary.
But when a maritime country is not contented to live within its
own borders, then a navy becomes essential to guard its people
and their possessions on the highways of the sea; to enforce, not
municipal or national law, as an army does, but international law.

Now the desire of the people of a country to extend their trade
beyond the seas seems in some ways not always a conscious desire,
not a deliberate intent, but to be an effort of self-protection,
or largely an effort of expansion; for getting room or employment.
As the people of a country become civilized, labor-saving devices
multiply; and where one man by means of a machine can do the work
of a hundred, ninety-nine men may be thrown out of employment; out
of a hundred men who till the soil, only one man may be selected
and ninety-nine men have to seek other employment. Where shall it
be gotten? Evidently it must be gotten in some employment which
may be called "artificial," such as working in a shop of some kind,
or doing some manufacturing work. But so long as a people live
unto themselves only, each nation can practically make and use all
the machinery needed within its borders, and still not employ all
the idle hands; and when the population becomes dense, employment
must be sought in making goods to sell beyond the sea. The return
comes back, sometimes in money, sometimes in the products of the
soil and the mine and the manufactures of foreign lands.

In this way every nation becomes like a great business firm. It
exports (that is, sells,) certain things, and it imports (that
is, buys,) certain things; and if it sells more than it buys it is
making money; if it buys more than it sells it is spending money.
This is usually expressed by saying that the "balance of trade"
is in its favor or against it.

In a country like the United States, or any other great nation, the
amount of exporting and importing, of buying and selling almost every
conceivable article under the sun, is carried on in the millions and
millions of dollars; and so perfect has the organization for doing
this business become in every great country, that the products of
the most distant countries can be bought in almost every village;
and any important event in any country produces a perceptible effect
wherever the mail and telegraph go.

The organization for effecting this in every country is so excellent
and so wonderful, that it is like a machine.

In fact, it is a machine, and with all the faults of a machine.
Now one of the faults of a machine, a fault which increases in
importance with the complexity of the machine, is the enormous
disturbance which may be produced by a cause seemingly trivial.
That such is the case with the machine which the commerce of every
great nation comprises, every-day experience confirms. So long
as the steamers come and go with scheduled regularity, so long
will the money come in at the proper intervals and be distributed
through the various channels; so long will the people live the
lives to which they are habituated; so long will order reign.

But suppose the coming and going of all the steamers were suddenly
stopped by a blockade. While it may be true that, in a country like
the United States, no foreign trade is really necessary; while it
may be true that the people of the United States would be just as
happy, though not so rich, if they had no foreign trade--yet the
sudden stoppage of foreign trade would not bring about a condition
such as would have existed if we had never had any foreign trade,
but would bring about a chaotic condition which cannot fitly be
described by a feebler word than "horrible." The whole machinery of
every-day life would be disabled. Hundreds of thousands of people
would be thrown out of employment, and the whole momentum of the
rapidly moving enormous mass of American daily life would receive
a violent shock which would strain to its elastic limit every part
of the entire machine.

It would take a large book to describe what would ensue from the
sudden stoppage of the trade of the United States with countries
over the sea. Such a book would besides be largely imaginative;
because in our history such a condition has never yet arisen. Although
wars have happened in the past in which there has been a blockade
of our coast more or less complete, peace has been declared before
the suffering produced had become very acute; and furthermore the
conditions of furious trade which now exist have never existed
before. Disasters would ensue, apart from the actual loss of money,
owing simply to the sudden change. In a railroad-train standing
still or moving at a uniform speed, the passengers are comfortable;
but if that same train is suddenly brought to rest when going at a
high speed, say by collision, the consequences are horrible in the
extreme, and the horror is caused _simply by the suddenness of the
change_. The same is true all through nature and human nature. Any
sudden change in the velocity of any mass has its exact counterpart
in any sudden change in the conditions of living of any man or
woman, or any sudden change in the conditions under which any
organization must carry on its business. The difficulty is not with
individuals only, or with the organizations themselves, and does
not rest solely on the personal inability of people to accommodate
themselves to the losing of certain conveniences or luxuries; but it
is an inertia which resists even the strenuous efforts of individuals
and organizations to meet new situations promptly, and to grapple
effectively with new problems.

Every organization, no matter how small, is conducted according
to some system, and that system is based upon certain more or less
permanent conditions, which, if suddenly changed, make the system
inapplicable. The larger the organization and the more complex it
is, the more will it be deranged by any change of external conditions
and the longer time will it take to adapt itself to them.

The sudden stoppage of our sea trade, including our coasting trade,
by even a partial blockade of our ports, would change practically
all the conditions under which we live. There is hardly a single
organization in the country which would not be affected by it.
And, as every organization would know that every other organization
would be affected, but to a degree which could not possibly be
determined, because there would be no precedent, it cannot be an
exaggeration to declare that the blockading of our principal ports
would, entirely apart from direct loss of money and other commodities,
produce a state of confusion, out of which order could not possibly
be evolved except by the raising of the blockade.

In addition to the confusion brought about, there would, of course,
be the direct loss of money and non-receipt of imported things;
but what would probably be the very worst thing of all would be
the numbers of men thrown out of employment by the loss of foreign
markets. _So long as a country can keep its people in employment,
so long the people will live in comparative order_. But when there
are many unemployed men in a country, not only do their families
lose the means of subsistence, but the very fact of the men being
unemployed leads them into mischief. Should the ports of any great
commercial nation be suddenly closed, the greatest danger to the
country would not be from the enemy outside, but from the unemployed
people inside, unless the government gave them employment, by enlisting
them in an enormous, improvised army.

It will be seen, therefore, that the blockading of the principal
ports of any purely commercial country would be a disaster so great
that there could not be a greater one except actual invasion. Another
disaster might be the total destruction of its fleet by the enemy's
fleet; but the only _direct_ result of this would be that the people
of the country would have fewer ships to support and fewer men
to pay. The loss of the fleet and the men would not _per se_ be
any loss whatever to the country, but rather a gain. The loss of
the fleet, however, would make it possible for the enemy's fleet
to blockade our ports later, and thus bring about the horrors of
which we have spoken.

While it is true that an absolute blockade of any port might be
practically impossible at the present day, while it is true that
submarines and torpedo-boats might compel blockading ships to keep
at such distance from ports that many loopholes of escape would be
open to blockade runners, yet it may be pointed out that even a
partial blockade, even a blockade that made it risky for vessels
to try to break it, would have a very deleterious effect upon the
prosperity of the country and of every man, woman, and child within
it. A blockade like this was that maintained during the greater
part of the Civil War by the Northern States against the Southern
States. This blockade, while not perfect, while it was such as to
permit many vessels to pass both ways, was nevertheless so effective
that it made it impossible for the Southern States to be prosperous,
or to have any reasonable hope of ever being prosperous. And while
it would be an exaggeration to state that the navy itself, unaided
by the army, could have brought the South to terms; while it would
be an exaggeration to state that all the land battles fought in the
Civil War were unnecessary, that all the bloodshed and all the ruin
of harvests and of homesteads were unnecessary, nevertheless it does
seem that so long as the navy maintained the blockade which it did
maintain, the people of the South would have been prevented from
achieving enough prosperity to carry on an independent government;
so that their revolt would have failed. The South, not being able
to raise the blockade by means of their navy, might have tried to
do so by sending an army into the Northern States, to whip the
Northerners on their own ground; but this would clearly have been
impossible.

The sentences above are not written with the intention of minimizing
the services rendered by the army in the Civil War, or of detracting
from the glory of the gallant officers and men who composed it, or
of subtracting one jot or tittle from a grateful appreciation of
their hardships and bloodshed; neither do they dare to question
the wisdom of the statesmen who directed that the war should be
fought mainly by the army. Their sole intention is to point out
that, if a meagre naval force could produce so great an effect
against a country _mainly agricultural_, a very powerful naval
force, blockading effectively the principal ports of a _manufacturing
country_, would have an effect so great that it can hardly be estimated.

It is plainly to be seen that the effect of a blockade against a
purely commercial country by a modern navy would be incomparably
greater now than it was fifty years ago, for two very important
reasons. One reason is that the progress of modern engineering
has made navies very much more powerful than they were fifty years
ago; and the other reason is that the same cause has made countries
very much more vulnerable to blockade, because it has made so many
millions of people dependent upon manufacturing industries and the
export of manufactured things, and forced them to live an artificial
life. While the United States, for instance, does not depend for
its daily bread on the regular coming of wheat from over the sea,
yet millions of its people do depend, though indirectly, upon the
money from the export of manufactured things; for with countries,
as with people, habits are formed both of system and of mode of
life, which it is dangerous suddenly to break; so that a country
soon becomes as dependent upon outside commerce as a man does upon
outside air, and a people suddenly deprived of a vigorous outside
commerce would seem to be smothered almost like a man deprived
of outside air.

A rough idea of the possible effect of a blockade of our coast may
be gathered from the fact that our exports last year were valued
at more than $2,000,000,000; which means that goods to this amount
were sold, for which a return was received, either in money or
its equivalent, most of it, ultimately, as wages for labor. Of
course no blockade could stop all of this; but it does not seem
impossible that it could stop half of it, if our fleet were destroyed
by the enemy. Supposing that this half were divided equally among
all the people in the United States, it would mean that each man,
woman, and child would lose about $10 in one year. If the loss
could be so divided up, perhaps no very great calamity would ensue.
But, of course, no such division could be made, with the result
that a great many people, especially poor people, earning wages
by the day, would lose more than they could stand. Suppose, for
instance, that a number of people earning about $900 a year, by
employment in export enterprises, were the people upon whom the
actual loss eventually fell by their being thrown out of employment.
This would mean that more than a million people--men, women, and
children--would be actually deprived of the means of living. It
seems clear that such a thing would be a national disaster, for
any loss of money to one man always means a loss of money or its
equivalent to other men besides. For instance: suppose A owes $20
to B, B owes $20 to C, C owes $20 to D, D owes $20 to E, E owes
$20 to F, F owes $20 to G, G owes $20 to H, H owes $20 to I, and
I to J. If A is able to pay B, and does so, then B pays C, and so
on, and everybody is happy. But suppose that A for some reason,
say a blockade, fails to receive some money that he expected; then
A cannot pay B, B cannot pay C, and so on; with the result, that
not only does J lose his $20, but nine men are put in debt $20
which they cannot pay; with the further result that A is dunned by
H, B is dunned by C, and so on, producing a condition of distress
which would seem to be out of all proportion to a mere lack of $20,
but which would, nevertheless, be the actual result. So in this
country of 100,000,000 people, the sudden loss of $1,000,000,000
a year would produce a distress seemingly out of all proportion
to that sum of money, because the individual loss of every loser
would be felt by everybody else.

Since to a great manufacturing nation, like ours, the greatest
danger from outside (except actual invasion) would seem to be the
sudden stoppage of her oversea trade by blockade, we seem warranted
in concluding that, since _the only possible means of preventing
a blockade is a navy_, the primary use for our navy is to prevent
blockade.

This does not mean that a fleet's place is on its own coast, because
a blockade might be better prevented by having the fleet elsewhere;
in fact it is quite certain that its place is not on the coast as
a rule, but at whatever point is the best with relation to the
enemy's fleet, until the enemy's fleet is destroyed. In fact, since
the defensive and the offensive are so inseparably connected that
it is hard sometimes to tell where one begins and the other ends,
the best position for our fleet might be on the enemy's coast. It
may be objected that the coast of the United States is so long
that it would be impossible to blockade it. Perhaps, but that is
not necessary: it would suffice to blockade Boston, Newport, New
York, the Delaware, the Chesapeake, and the Gulf, say with forty
ships. And we must remember that blockade running would be much more
difficult now than in the Civil War, because of the increased power
and accuracy of modern gunnery and the advent of the search-light,
wireless telegraph, and aeroplane.

It may also be objected that the blockading of even a defenseless
coast would cost the blockading country a good deal of money, by
reason of the loss of trade with that country. True; but war is
always expensive, and the blockade would be very much more expensive
to the blockaded country; and though it might hold out a long while,
it would be compelled to yield in the end, not only because of the
blockade itself but because of the pressure of neutral countries;
and the longer it held out, the greater the indemnity it would
have to pay. The expense of blockading would therefore be merely
a profitable investment.

The author is aware that actual invasion of a country from the
sea would be a greater disaster than blockade, and that defense
against invasion has often been urged in Great Britain as a reason
for a great navy; so that the primary reason for a navy might be
said to be defense against invasion. But why should an enemy take
the trouble to invade us? Blockade is easier and cheaper, and can
accomplish almost everything that an enemy desires, especially
if it be enlivened by the occasional dropping of thousand-pound
shells into Wall Street and the navy-yard.

While, however, the _primary_ use of naval power seems to be to
prevent blockade, a navy, like any other weapon, may be put to
any other uses which circumstances indicate. For instance, the
Northerners in the Civil War used the navy not to prevent blockade,
but to make blockade; the Japanese used the navy to cover the
transportation of their armies to Manchuria and Corea; and Great
Britain has always used her navy to protect her trade routes.

A general statement of the various uses of a navy has been put into
the phrase "command of the sea."

Of course, the probability of getting "command of the sea," or
of desiring to get it is dependent on the existence of a state
of war, and there are some who believe that the probability of
our becoming involved in a war with a great naval nation is too
slight to warrant the expense of money and labor needed to prepare
the necessary naval power. So it may be well to consider what is
the degree of probability.

This degree of probability cannot be determined as accurately as
the probabilities of fire, death, or other things against which
insurance companies insure us; for the reason that wars have been
much less frequent than fires, deaths, etc., while the causes that
make and prevent them are much more numerous and obscure. It seems
clear, however, that, as between two countries of equal wealth,
the probability of war varies with the disparity between their
navies, and unless other nations are involved, is practically zero,
when their navies are equal in power; and that, other factors being
equal, the _greatest probability of war is between two countries,
of which one is the more wealthy and the other the more powerful_.

In reckoning the probability of war, we must realize that _the most
pregnant cause of war is the combination of conflicting interests
with disparity in power_. And we must also realize that it is not
enough to consider the situation as it is now: that it is necessary
to look at least ten years ahead, because it would take the United
States that length of time to prepare a navy powerful enough to
fight our possible foes with reasonable assurance of success.

Ten years, however, is not really far enough ahead to look, for
the simple reason that, while we could get a great many ships ready
in ten years, we could not get the entire navy ready as will be
explained later. If, for instance, some change in policies or in
interests should make war with Great Britain probable within ten
years, we could not possibly build a navy that could prevent our
being beaten, and blockaded, and forced to pay an enormous indemnity.

Is there _no_ probability of this? Perhaps there is no great
probability; but there certainly is a possibility. In fact, it
might be a very wise act for Great Britain, seeing us gradually
surpassing her, to go to war with us before it is too late, and
crush us. It has often been said that Great Britain could not afford
to go to war with us, because so many of her commercial interests
would suffer. Of course, they would suffer for a while; but so do
the commercial interests of competing railroads when they begin
to cut rates. Cutting rates is war--commercial war: but it is often
carried on, nevertheless, and at tremendous cost.

Just now, Great Britain does not wish to crush us; but it is certain
that she can. It is certain that the richest country in the world
lies defenseless against the most powerful; and that we could not
alter this condition in ten years, even if we started to build
an adequate navy now.

Yet even if the degree of probability of war with Great Britain,
within say ten years, seems so small that we need not consider her,
are there no other great Powers with whom the degree of probability
of war is great enough to make it wise for us to consider them?

Before answering this question, let us realize clearly that one
of the strongest reasons that leads a country to abstain from war,
even to seek relief from wrongs, actual or imagined, is a doubt
of success; and that that reason disappears if another country,
sufficiently powerful to assure success, is ready to help her,
either by joining openly with her, or by seeking war herself at
the same time with the same country. As we all know, cases like
this have happened in the past. Great Britain knows it; and the
main secret of her wealth is that she has always been strong enough
to fight any two countries.

It is plain that a coalition of two countries against us is possible
now. The United States is regarded with feelings of extreme irritation
by the two most warlike nations in the world, one on our eastern side
and the other on the western. War with either one would call for
all the energies of the country, and the issue would be doubtful.
But if either country should consider itself compelled to declare
war, the other, if free at the time, might see her opportunity to
declare war simultaneously. The result would be the same as if
we fought Great Britain, except that our Pacific coast would be
blockaded besides the Atlantic, and we should have to pay indemnity
to two countries instead of to one country.

A coalition between these two countries would be an ideal arrangement,
because it would enable each country to force us to grant the conditions
it desires, and secure a large indemnity besides.

Would Great Britain interfere in our behalf? This can be answered
by the man so wise that he knows what the international situation
and the commercial situation will be ten years hence. Let him speak.


WILL THE IMPORTANCE OF NAVAL POWER INCREASE OR DECREASE?

It is clear that the importance to a country of a navy varies with
two things--the value of that country's foreign trade and the
probability of war.

It is also clear that, other things being equal, the probability
of a country becoming involved in war varies as the value of her
foreign trade; because the causes of friction and the money at
stake vary in that proportion.

Therefore, _the importance to a country of her navy varies as the
square of the value of her foreign trade_.

In order to answer the question, therefore, we must first consider
whether foreign trade--sea trade--is going to increase or decrease.

As to the United States alone, the value of our exports is about
ten times what it was fifty years ago, and it promises to increase.
But the United States is only one country, and perhaps her increase
in foreign trade has been due to conditions past or passing. So
what is the outlook for the future, both for the United States
and other countries? Will other countries seek foreign trade?

Yes. The recent commercial progress of Germany, Argentina, and
Japan, shows the growing recognition by civilized and enterprising
countries of the benefits of foreign trade, and of the facilities
for attaining it which are now given by the advent of large, swift,
modern steamers; steamers which are becoming larger and swifter
and safer every year, more and more adapted for ocean trade. For
not only have the writings of Mahan brought about an increase in
the sea power of every great country; but this increase has so
aroused the attention of the engineering professions that the
improvement of ships, engines, and other sea material has gone ahead
faster than all the other engineering arts.

The reason why the engineering arts that are connected with the
sea have gone ahead more rapidly than any other arts is simply
that they are given wider opportunity and a greater scope. It is
inherent in the very nature of things that it is easier to transport
things by water than by land; that water transportation lends itself
in a higher degree to the exercise of engineering skill, to the
attainment of great results.

The underlying reason for this difference seems to be that it is
not possible to make any vehicle to travel on land appreciably
larger than the present automobile, unless it run on rails; whereas
the floating power of water is such that vehicles can be made, and
are made, as large as 65,000 tons. The _Mauretania_, of 45,000
tons displacement, has been running for eight years, larger vessels
are even now running and vessels larger still will undoubtedly
be run; for the larger the ships, the less they cost per ton of
carrying power, the faster they go, and the safer they are.

Sea commerce thus gives to engineers, scientists, and inventors,
as well as to commercial men, that gift of the gods--opportunity.
The number of ships that now traverse the ocean and the larger
bodies of water communicating with it aggregate millions of tons,
and their number and individual tonnage are constantly increasing.
These vessels cruise among all the important seaports of the world,
and form a system of intercommunication almost as complete as the
system of railroads in the United States. They bring distant ports
of the world very close together, and make possible that ready
interchange of material products, and that facility of personal
intercourse which it is one of the aims of civilization to bring
about. From a commercial point of view, London is nearer to New
York than San Francisco, and more intimately allied with her.

The evident result of all this is to make the people of the world
one large community, in which, though many nationalities are numbered,
many tongues are spoken, many degrees of civilization and wealth
are found, yet, of all, the main instincts are the same: the same
passions, the same appetites, the same desire for personal advantage.

Not only does this admirable system of intercommunication bring all
parts of the world very closely together, but it tends to produce
in all a certain similarity in those characteristics and habits
of thought that pertain to the material things of life. We are
all imitative, and therefore we tend to imitate each other; but
the inferior is more apt to imitate the superior than vice versa.
Particularly are we prone to imitate those actions and qualities
by which others have attained material success. So it is to be
expected, it is already a fact, that the methods whereby a few
great nations attained success are already being imitated by other
nations. Japan has imitated so well that in some ways she has already
surpassed her models.

With such an example before her, should we be surprised that China
has also become inoculated with the virus of commercial and political
ambitions? It cannot be many years before she will be in the running
with the rest of us, with 400,000,000 of people to do the work;
people of intelligence, patience, endurance, and docility; people
with everything to gain and nothing to lose; with the secret of
how to succeed already taught by other nations, which she can learn
from an open book.

If Japan has learned our secret and mastered it in fifty years,
will China not be able to do it in less than fifty years?

Before we answer this question, let us realize clearly that China
is much nearer to us in civilization than Japan was fifty years
ago; that China has Japan's example to guide her, and also that
any degree of civilization which was acquired by us in say one
hundred years will not require half that time for another nation
merely to learn. The same is true of all branches of knowledge; the
knowledge of the laws of nature which it took Newton many years to
acquire may now be mastered by any college student in two months.
And let us not forget, besides, that almost the only difficult
element of civilization which other people need to acquire, in order
to enter into that world-wide competition which is characteristic of
the time we live in, is "engineering" broadly considered. Doubtless
there are other things to learn besides; but it is not apparent
that any other things have contributed largely to the so-called
new civilization of Japan. Perhaps Japan has advanced enough in
Christianity to account for her advance in material power, but
if so she keeps very quiet about it. It may be, also, that the
relations of the government to the governed people of Japan are
on a higher plane than they used to be, but on a plane not yet so
high as in our own country; but has any one ever seen this claimed
or even stated? It may be that the people of Japan are more kindly,
brave, courteous, and patriotic than they were, and that their
improvement has been due to their imitating us in these matters;
but this is not the belief of many who have been in Japan. One
thing, however, is absolutely sure; and that is that Japan's advance
has been simultaneous with her acquirement of the engineering arts,
especially as applied to military and naval matters and the merchant
marine.

But even supposing that China does not take part in the world-wide
race for wealth, we cannot shut our eyes to the fact that Great
Britain, Germany, France, Italy, Japan, Argentina, and the United
States, besides others like Sweden, Norway, Belgium, Holland, Spain,
and Portugal, are in the race already; and that several in South
America bid fair to enter soon. Not only do we see many contestants,
whose numbers and ardor are increasing, but we see, also, the cause
of this increasing. The cause is not only a clearer appreciation
of the benefits to be derived from commerce across the water under
conditions that exist now; it is also a growing appreciation of the
possibilities of commerce under conditions that will exist later
with countries whose resources are almost entirely undeveloped. For
four hundred years, we of the United States, have been developing
the land within our borders, and the task has been enormous. At
one time it promised to be the work of centuries; and with the
mechanical appliances of even one hundred years ago, it would have
taken a thousand years to do what we have already done. Mechanical
appliances of all kinds, especially of transportation and agriculture,
have made possible what would, otherwise, have been impossible;
and mechanical appliances will do the same things in Tierra del
Fuego and Zululand.

Mechanism, working on land and sea, is opening up the resources
of the world. And now, another allied art, that of chemistry, more
especially biology, is in process of removing one of the remaining
obstacles to full development, by making active life possible, and
even pleasant, in the tropics. It is predicted by some enthusiasts
that, in the near future, it will be healthier and pleasanter to live
in the tropics, and even do hard work there, than in the temperate
zone. When this day comes, and it may be soon, the development of
the riches of lands within the tropics will begin in earnest, and
wealth undreamed of now be realized.

The opening of the undeveloped countries means a continuing increase
of wealth to the nations that take advantage of the opportunity,
and a corresponding backsliding to those nations that fail. It
means over all the ocean an increasing number of steamers. It means
the continuing increase of manufacturing in manufacturing countries,
and the increasing enjoyment in them of the good things of all the
world. It means in the undeveloped countries an increasing use
of the conveniences and luxuries of civilization and an increasing
possession of money or its equivalent. It means, throughout all
the world, an increase of what we call "Wealth."

In discussing a subject so great as sea trade, while it may be
considered presumptuous to look fifty years ahead, it can hardly
be denied that we ought at least to try to look that far ahead.
To look fifty years ahead, is, after all, not taking in a greater
interval of time than fifty years back; and it certainly seems
reasonable to conclude that, if a certain line of progress has
been going on for fifty years in a perfectly straight line, and
with a vigor which is increasing very fast and shows no sign of
change, the same general line of progress will probably keep up
for another fifty years. If we try to realize what this means, we
shall probably fail completely and become dazed by the prospect.
We cannot possibly picture accurately or even clearly to ourselves
any definite conditions of fifty years hence; but we certainly are
warranted in concluding that by the end of fifty years, practically
all of the countries of the world, including Africa, will be open
to trade from one end to the other; that the volume of trade will
be at least ten times as great as it is now; that the means of
communication over the water and through the air will be very much
better than now; and that there will be scores of appliances, methods,
and processes in general use of which we have, as yet, no inkling,
and cannot even imagine.

Now let us call to mind the accepted proverb that "Competition is
the life of trade," and this will make us see that, accompanying
this stupendous trade, extending over, and into, every corner of
the world, there will be stupendous competition, involving in a
vast and complicated net, every red-blooded nation of the earth.

We seem safe in concluding, therefore, that the importance of naval
power will increase.

A great deal is said and written nowadays about the ability of
arbitration to make wars unnecessary, and a good deal also about
the possibility of an agreement among the nations, whereby armaments
may be limited to forces adequate to insure that every nation shall
be compelled to abide by the decision of the others in any disputed
case.

In view of the number, the earnestness, and the prominence of many
of the men interested in this cause; in view of the number of
arbitration treaties that have been already signed; in view of the
fact that arbitration among nations will simply establish a law
among them like the law in any civilized country; in view of the
fact that individuals in their dealings with each other sometimes
surrender certain of their claims, and even rights, for the common
good; in view of the fact that nations, like all business firms,
like to cut down expenses, and in further view of the fact that
a navy is not directly, but only indirectly, a contributor to a
nation's prosperity, it seems probable that arbitration will be
more and more used among the nations, and that armaments may be
limited by agreement. It is clear, however, that the practical
difficulties in the way of making the absolute agreement required
are enormous, and that the most enthusiastic advocates of the plan
do not expect that the actual limitation of armaments will become
a fact for many years.

After the necessary preliminaries shall have been arranged, and
the conference takes place which shall settle what armament each
nation may have, it is plain that it will be to the interest of
each nation to keep down the armament of every other nation, and to
be allowed as much as possible itself. In this way, the operation
of making the agreement will be somewhat like the forming of a
trust among several companies, and the advantage will lie with that
nation which is the most powerful.

For this reason it would seem a part of wisdom for each country
to enter the conference with as large a navy as possible.

Therefore, the probability of an approaching agreement among the
nations as to limitation of armaments, instead of being a reason
for abating our exertions toward establishing a powerful navy,
is really a conclusive reason for redoubling them.

This brings us to the important question, "how powerful should our
navy be?"

This may seem a question impossible to answer. Of course it is
impossible to answer it in terms of ships and guns; but an approximate
estimate may be reached by considering the case of a man playing
poker who holds a royal straight flush. Such a man would be a fool
if he did not back his hand to the limit and get all the benefit
possible from it. So will the United States, if she fails to back
her hand to the limit, recognizing the fact that in the grand game
now going on for the stakes of the commercial supremacy of the world,
she holds the best hand. She has the largest and most numerous
seaports, the most enterprising and inventive people, and the most
wealth with which to force to success all the various necessary
undertakings.

This does not mean that the United States ought, as a matter either
of ethics or of policy, to build a great navy in order to take
unjust advantage of weaker nations; but it does mean that she ought
to build a navy great enough to save her from being shorn of her
wealth and glory by simple force, as France was shorn in 1871.

It is often said that the reason for Great Britain's having so
powerful a navy is that she is so situated geographically that,
without a powerful navy to protect her trade, the people would
starve.

While this statement may be true, the inference usually drawn is
fallacious: the inference that if Great Britain were not so situated,
she would not have so great a navy.

Why would she not? It is certain that that "tight little island"
has attained a world-wide power, and a wealth per capita greater
than those of any other country; that her power and wealth, as
compared with her home area, are so much greater than those of
any other country as to stagger the understanding; that she could
not have done what she has done without her navy; that she has
never hesitated to use her navy to assist her trade, and yet that
she has never used her navy to keep her people from starving.

In fact, the insistence on the anti-starvation theory is absurd.
Has any country ever fought until the people as a mass were starving?
Has starving anything to do with the matter? Does not a nation
give up fighting just as soon as it sees that further fighting
would do more harm than good? A general or an admiral, in charge
of a detached force, must fight sometimes even at tremendous loss
and after all hope of local success has fled, in order to hold a
position, the long holding of which is essential to the success
of the whole strategic plan; but what country keeps up a war until
its people are about to starve? Did Spain do so in our last war? Did
Russia fear that Japan would force the people of her vast territory
into starvation?

No--starvation has nothing to do with the case. If some discovery
were made by which Great Britain could grow enough to support all
her people, she would keep her great navy nevertheless--simply
because she has found it to be a good investment.

The anti-starvation theory--the theory that one does things simply
to keep from starving--does apply to some tropical savages, but
not to the Anglo-Saxon. Long after starvation has been provided
against, long after wealth has been secured, we still toil on. What
are we toiling for? The same thing that Great Britain maintains
her navy for--wealth and power.

The real reason for Great Britain's having a powerful navy applies
with exact equality to the United States. Now that Great Britain
has proved how great a navy is best for her, we can see at once
how great a navy is best for us. That is--since Great Britain and
the United States are the wealthiest countries in the world, and
since the probability of war between any two countries is least
when their navies are equal in power--the maximum good would be
attained by making the United States navy exactly equal to the
British navy.




CHAPTER IV

NAVAL PREPAREDNESS

In a preceding chapter I endeavored to show why it is that the
necessities of the naval defense of a country have caused the gradual
development of different types of vessels, each having its distinctive
work. If those different types operated in separate localities they
would lose that mutual support which it is the aim of organization
to secure, and each separate group could be destroyed in turn by
the combined groups of an enemy. For this reason, the types or
groups are combined in one large fleet, and an admiral is placed
in command.

The command of a fleet is the highest effort of the naval art. Its
success in time of war demands in the admiral himself a high order
of mind and nerve and body; and it demands in all the personnel,
from the highest to the lowest, such a measure of trained ability
and character that each shall be able to discharge with skill and
courage the duties of his station.

In order that the material fleet shall be efficient as a whole,
each material unit must be efficient as a unit. Each ship must
be materially sound; each pump, valve, cylinder, gun, carriage,
torpedo, and individual appliance, no matter how small, must be
in condition to perform its expected task. The complexity of a
fleet baffles any mental effort, by even those most familiar with
it, to grasp it fully. Each dreadnaught, battle cruiser, destroyer,
submarine, collier, tender, hospital ship, scout, supply ship, and
what-not, is a machine in itself, and is filled with scores--in
some cases, hundreds--of highly specialized machines, operated
by steam, oil, air, electricity, and water. A superdreadnaught
is a machine which, including the machines inside of her, costs
$15,000,000; a battle cruiser more.

The personnel is nearly as complicated as the material. Not only
are there all the various ranks of commissioned officers in the
line, medical corps, pay corps, marine corps, etc., but there are
ten kinds of warrant officers besides; while in the enlisted personnel
there are ninety-one different "ratings" in the navy, and thirteen
in the marine corps, besides temporary ratings, such as gun-pointer,
gun-trainer, gun-captain, etc. Each rank and rating carries its
rigidly prescribed duties, as well as its distinctive uniform and
pay. That such a multitudinous host of types and individuals, both
material and personnel, can be actually combined in one unit fleet,
and that fleet operated as a mobile directable organism by its
admiral, is a high achievement of the human intellect.

How is it done?

By discipline, by training, by knowledge, by energy, by devotion,
by will; by the exercise of those mental, moral, and spiritual
faculties that may be grouped under the one term "mind": the same
power that co-ordinates and controls a still more complex machine,
the organism of the human body.

Despite its relative crudeness, a fleet possesses, more fully than
any other fruit of man's endeavor, the characteristics of an organism,
defined by Webster as "an individual constituted to carry on the
activities of life by means of parts or organs more or less separate
in function, but mutually dependent." And though it must be true
that no fleet can approximate the perfection of nature's organisms,
nevertheless there is an analogy which may help us to see how a
complex fleet of complex vessels has been slowly evolved from the
simple galley fleets of earlier days; how its various parts may
be mutually dependent yet severally independent; and how all must
be made to work as one vast unit, and directed as one vast unit
by the controlling mind toward "the end in view."

The common idea is that an army consists of a number of soldiers,
and a navy of a number of ships. This idea is due to a failure
to realize that soldiers and ships are merely instruments, and
that they are useless instruments unless directed by a trained
intelligence: that the first essential in an army and the first
essential in a navy is mind, which first correctly estimates the
situation, then makes wise plans to meet it, then carries out those
plans; which organizes the men and designs the ships, and then
directs the physical power exertable by the men and the ships toward
"the end in view."

Owing to the enormous mechanical power made available in ships
by the floating properties of water, machinery is more used by
navies than by armies; but this does not mean that machinery can
take the place of men more successfully in navies than in armies,
except in the sense that navies can use more mechanical power.
The abundant use of machines and instruments in navies does not
mean that machinery and instruments can take the place of trained
intelligence--but exactly the reverse. Under the guidance of trained
intelligence, a machine or instrument can perform wonders. But
it is not the machinery that does the wonders; it is the trained
intelligence that devised the instrument or machine, and the trained
intelligence that operates it. Let the trained intelligence err,
or sleep, and note the results that follow. The _Titanic_, a mass
of 40,000 tons, moving through the water at 20 knots an hour, a
marvel of the science and skill of man, crashes into an iceberg,
because the trained intelligence directing her errs--and is reduced
at once to an inert mass of iron and brass. The mighty fleet of
Russia meets the Japanese fleet in Tsushima Straits; and because
the trained intelligence that directed its movements seriously
erred, in an engagement decided in less than an hour, is stripped of
its power and glory, and transformed into a disorganized aggregation
of separate ships--some sunk, some sinking, some in flight. The
Japanese fleet, on the other hand, because it is directed with
an intelligence more highly trained than that which directs the
Russian fleet, and because, in consequence, the officers and enlisted
men perform their various duties not only in the actual battle,
but in preparation for it, with a skill greater than that used in
the Russian fleet, suffers but little damage in the fight--though
the advantage in number and size of ships is slightly with the
Russians. As a consequence of that battle, the war between Russia
and Japan was decided in favor of Japan, and terms of peace were
soon agreed upon. Russia lost practically all the ships that took
part in the battle, and several thousand of her officers and
sailors--and _she lost the whole object for which she went to war_.

The difference between the Russian and Japanese fleets that gave
the victory to the Japanese was a difference in trained intelligence
and in the relative degrees of preparedness which that difference
caused.

During the actual battle, the intelligence was that of the officers
and men in the respective fleets, in managing the two fleets, the
ships themselves, and the guns, engines, and machines of all kinds that
those ships contained. It is this factor--trained intelligence--that
has decided most of the battles of history, and the course that
nations thereafter followed. Battles have usually been fought between
forces not very different in point of numbers and material, for the
reason that a force which knew itself to be weaker than another
would not fight unless compelled to fight; and in cases where two
forces of widely differing strength have fought, the situation has
usually been brought about directly by a superior intelligence. In
fact, one of the most frequent and important endeavors of strategy
and tactics--used triumphantly by Napoleon--has always been such
a handling of one's forces as to be superior to the enemy at the
point of contact--to "get the mostest men there the firstest," as
General Forrest is said to have expressed it.

The effect of superior-trained intelligence is greatest "at the top,"
but it can accomplish little unless a fine intelligence permeates the
whole. A fine intelligence at the top will so direct the men below,
will so select men for the various posts, and will so co-ordinate
their efforts, that the organization will resemble a veritable
organism: all the various organs fulfilling separately yet accurately
their allotted functions; all the fire-control parties, all the
gun crews, all the torpedo crews, all the engineer forces properly
organized and drilled; all the hulls of the vessels, all the guns,
all the torpedoes, all the multifarious engines, machines, and
instruments in good material condition and correctly adjusted for
use.

But it is not only in the actual battle that fine intelligence is
required; it is required long before the battle and far distant
from the scene--in the "admiralty" at home. The Japanese fleet set
out fully manned with a highly trained, enthusiastic, and confident
personnel; the Russian fleet set out manned with a poorly trained
and discouraged personnel, only too well aware of their defects.
The issue at Tsushima was decided before the respective fleets
left their respective homes--though that issue was not then known
to mortals. The battle emphasized, but did not prove, what had
been proved a hundred times before: the paramount importance of
preparedness; that _when two forces fight--the actual battle merely
secures the decision as to the relative values of two completed
machines, and their degrees of preparedness for use_.

Preparedness of material is not, of course, so important as preparedness
of personnel, because if the personnel is prepared, they will inevitably
prepare the material. And the preparedness must pervade all grades:
for while it is true that the preparedness of those in high command
is more important than the preparedness of those in minor posts,
yet there is no post so lowly that its good or its ill performance
will not be a factor in the net result. An unskilful oiler may
cause a hot bearing that will slow down a battleship, and put out
of order the column of a squadron; a signalman's mistake may throw
a fleet into confusion.

Perfect preparedness of personnel and material is essential because
events follow each other so rapidly in war that no preparation can
be made after it has begun. To fight is the most intense work a
man can do; and a war is nothing but a fight. No matter how great
or how small a war may be, no war can lose the essential qualities
of a fight, or (save in the treatment of prisoners) be more brutal or
less brutal when fought between two little savage tribes, than when
fought between two colossal groups of Christian nations, civilized to
the highest point. War is the acme of the endeavor of man. Each side
determines that it will win at all costs and at all hazards; that
nobody's comfort, happiness, or safety shall receive the slightest
consideration; that everybody's strength and courage must be worked
to the limit by night as well as by day, and that there must be
no rest and no yielding to any softening influence whatever; that
the whole strength and mind of the nation, and of every individual
in it, must be devoted, and must be sacrificed, if need be, to
the cause at stake.

In war, a navy's primary duty has usually been to protect the coast
and trade routes of its country; and in order to do this, it has had
to be able to oppose to an attacking fleet a defending fleet more
militarily effective. If it were less effective, even if no invasion
were attempted, the attacking fleet could cripple or destroy the
defending fleet and then institute a blockade. In modern times an
effective blockade, or at least a hostile patrol of trade routes,
could be held hundreds of miles from the coast, where the menace
of submarines would be negligible; and this blockade would stop
practically all import and export trade. This would compel the
country to live exclusively on its own resources, and renounce
intercourse with the outside world. Some countries could exist
a long time under these conditions. But they would exist merely,
and the condition of mere existence would never end until they
sued for peace; because, even if new warships were constructed
with which to beat off the enemy, each new and untrained ship would
be sunk or captured shortly after putting out to sea as, on June
1, 1813, in Massachusetts Bay, the American frigate _Chesapeake_
was captured and nearly half her crew were killed and wounded in
fifteen minutes by a ship almost identical in the material qualities
of size and armament--the better-trained British frigate _Shannon_.

For these reasons, every nation that has acquired and has long
retained prosperity, has realized that every country liable to
be attacked by any navy must either be defended by some powerful
country, or else must keep a navy ready to repel the attack
successfully. To do this, the defending navy must be ready when the
attack comes; because if not ready then, it will never have time
to get ready. In regard to our own country, much stress is laid by
some intelligent people--who forget the _Chesapeake_ and _Shannon_--on
the 3,000 miles of water stretching between the United States and
Europe. This 3,000 miles is, of course, a factor of importance,
but it is not a prohibition, because it can be traversed with great
surety and quickness--with much greater surety and quickness, for
instance, than the 12,000 miles traversed by the Russian fleet,
in 1904, in steaming from Russia to Japan.

The 3,000 miles that separate the United States from Europe can
be traversed by a fleet more powerful than ours in from two to
three weeks; and the fleet would probably arrive on our shores in
good condition, and manned by full crews of well-trained officers
and men, habituated to their duties by recent practice and thoroughly
ready to fight, as the _Shannon_ was. We could not meet this fleet
successfully unless we met it with a fleet more militarily effective;
and we could not do this unless we had in the regular service and
the reserve a personnel of officers and men sufficiently numerous
to man immediately all the vessels that would be needed, and to
man in addition all the shore stations, which would have to be
expanded to a war basis. The officers and enlisted men, of course,
would have to be at least as well trained as the corresponding
personnel in the attacking fleet, and have as recent and thorough
practice in their respective duties; for otherwise, no matter how
brave and devoted they might be, the fate of the American fleet
would be the fate of the _Chesapeake_.

In order to be ready when war breaks, the first essential is a
plan for preparation. Preparation is divided naturally into two
parts: first, preparation of sufficient material and personnel;
second, preparation of plans for the conduct of the war after it has
begun. These two parts are both considered in what are technically
called "War Plans."

Preparation for war has always been known to be essential. Lack
of preparation has never been due to lack of knowledge, but always
to neglect. The difference between the wise and the foolish virgins
was not a difference in knowledge but a difference in character.
The difference between Alexander's little army and the tremendous
army of Darius was not so much in numbers as in preparedness. Trained
under Philip of Macedon for many years, organized for conquest
and aggression, prepared to meet any situation that might arise,
Philip's army carried Philip's son from victory to victory, and
made him the master of the world. Cæsar was great in peace as well
as war, but it was by Cæsar's army that Cæsar's greatness was
established; and it was a thoroughness of preparation unknown before
that made Cæsar's army great. Napoleon's successes were built on
the splendid preparation of a mind transcendently fitted to grasp
both principles and details, and on the comparatively unprepared
state of his opponents.

The Great Elector began in 1640 a course of laborious and scientific
preparation which committed all Prussia, as well as the army, to
acquiring what now we call "efficiency." As this plan developed,
especially under the Elector's grandson King Frederick William,
the next King found himself, as Alexander had done, the chief of
an army more highly prepared for war than any other. By means of
that army he made himself Frederick the Great, and raised Prussia
from a minor position to the first rank of European Powers. Pursuing
Frederick William's system of progressive preparation, Prussia
continued her prosperous course till William I defeated Austria,
then France, and founded the German Empire. This does not mean that
the only result of developing national efficiency to its highest
point is to secure success in war--in fact, we know that it is not.
But it does mean that the same quality--efficiency--which tends
to prosperity in peace tends also to victory in war.

Preparing for war was a simple thing in the olden days compared
with preparing now, for the reason that the implements of war are
much more numerous and complicated than they used to be, especially
in navies. A navy is not ready unless all preparations and plans
have been made, tested, and kept up to date, to insure that all
of the vessels of every kind and all the shore stations will be
in material condition, fully equipped and manned by a sufficient
and efficient personnel of officers and crews, in time to meet
the enemy on advantageous terms, and unless the central authority
has already decided what it will do, when any probable emergency
shall arise. This was the condition of the German army in 1870.
This was also the condition of the British navy, when war broke
out in August, 1914; the British navy was ready; and therefore it
was able to assume command of the sea at once, drive its enemy's
commerce from the ocean, and imprison its fleets in sheltered ports.

In all countries the peace establishment of the army and navy is
smaller than the war establishment, for reasons of economy, upon
the assumption that there will be enough time after war is declared
to get on a war basis before the enemy can strike. But since 1870,
all the military nations have realized that the vital struggle of
a war takes place _before_ a shot is fired; that _the factors that
decide which nation shall be the victor and which the vanquished are
determined before the war begins_; that they are simply "functions"
of preparedness. Germany was ready not only for war but for victory,
because her troops were so much better trained, organized, and equipped
than those of France, and her war plans so much more complete,
that she was able to lay France prostrate, before the enormous
resources of that country in men and material could rally in her
defense.

The relative conditions in which two opposing forces will enter a
war, and their relative performances afterward, will depend upon
the relative excellence of the war plans made for them, and the
thoroughness with which the plans are tested before war breaks. So
it is not difficult to see why all the great armies have patterned
after Germany, and organized special bodies of officers for the
preparation and execution of War plans; and why it is that they
endeavor to secure for that peculiar duty the most thorough and
industrious of their officers. Owing to the nature of war itself,
the principles of warfare apply in their essentials to navies as well
as to armies; and so the navies have patterned after the armies and
made plans whereby they can get ready to fight in fleet organization
on the ocean with the greatest possible effectiveness in the shortest
possible time.

During peace times every navy is maintained on a "peace basis";
only such ships and other material being kept in full commission,
and only such a number of officers and enlisted men being actively
employed, as the appropriations allotted by the government permit.
Those ships and other material that are not actually in commission
are maintained in reserve, a condition of partial readiness, of
which several degrees are recognized, in which a reduced number of
officers and men are kept on board, and the various structures and
apparatus are kept in as high a degree of readiness as circumstances
will permit. In order to man in time of war these vessels in reserve,
and insure a sufficient personnel in the active fleet, a "naval
reserve" is organized in each country, composed of officers and men
who have had experience in the regular navy. They are compelled to
undergo a specific amount of training each year, to keep themselves
in readiness at all times to answer the call for active service on
short notice, and to maintain such communication with the government
as will make it easy to locate any man at any moment.

The act of getting ready, the passing from a state of peace to
a state of readiness for fighting, is called "mobilization."
Mobilization plans are an important element in war plans, but the
details of any mobilization plan are of such a confidential nature
that it would not be proper to discuss them in public print. There
can be no impropriety, however, in making the general statement
that in all navies the endeavor is made to keep the mobilization
plans continually up to date, and to have them prepared in such
detail that every officer and enlisted man in active service, the
retired list, the naval reserve, and the naval militia, will become
instantly available for a predetermined duty, and that every shore
station and every necessary vessel will be ready to take part. The
plans prescribe methods in very great detail whereby the ships
and other vessels in reserve can be quickly put into commission
with full crews of officers and men, all their various equipments,
fuel, and ammunition put on board, and the vessels themselves sent
out to sea to join the fleet. In addition, plans are made whereby
certain auxiliaries can be fitted out at once and put into
commission--such as supply ships, ammunition ships, transports,
colliers, mine ships, hospital ships, etc. The mass of detailed
plans, orders, and instructions is stupendous and bewildering.
Years of study, trial, and rectification are required to get them
into such condition that the plans can be put into immediate and
effective use when war breaks out. The work must be done, however,
and with the utmost thoroughness, _before_ war breaks out; otherwise
it will never be done, if an active enemy is about, because he
will strike at once--and then it will be too late.

In most of the great naval countries the work of mobilizing the
fleet is comparatively easy, for the reason that the coast-line
is short and is not far from any part of the interior, enabling
reserves to live in fairly close touch with the coast and with
naval affairs, and so near the coast that they can get quickly to
any port. But the conditions in the United States are more difficult
than those in any other country, because of the enormous stretch of
our coast, the great average distance from any place in our country
to the coast, the difficulty of getting a naval reserve that could
be of practical use (owing to the ease with which young men can
make a comfortable living on land), and the perilous slowness of the
nation as a whole to realize the necessity for preparedness.

As an offset to this, we have the 3,000 miles of ocean between
us and Europe, and the 5,000 miles between us and Asia; and on
account of this we may to a certain extent discount the danger of
attack and the preparedness required to meet it. But our discount
should be reasonable and reasoned out, and certainly not excessive.
Fortunately the problem of how much time we should allow for mobilizing
and joining the fleet is easy, as a moment's thought will show us
that it must be simply the two weeks needed for a fleet to come
from Europe to America; for we must realize that the report of the
sailing of the hostile fleet would be the first news we should
get of any hostile preparation or intent.

The general situation in which every isolated naval nation stands
regarding other nations is not complicated, but very plain. Each
nation has, as possible opponents in its policy, certain countries.
The naval forces of those countries and the time in which they can
be made ready are known with sufficient accuracy for practical
purposes. If any isolated naval nation wishes to carry out a policy
which any of those countries will forcibly oppose she must either
build a navy equal to that of the other country, or else be prepared
to abandon any attempt to force her policies. Stating the question
in another way, she can carry out only such policies as do not
require for their enforcement a navy stronger than she has.

It is true that diplomacy and the jealousies of foreign powers
unite to make possible the averting of war during long periods of
time. Diplomacy averted war with Germany for forty-three years, but
it could not continue to avert war eternally. War finally broke out
with a violence unparalleled in history, and possessing a magnitude
proportional to the duration of the preceding peace. "Long coming long
last, short notice soon past" is a sailor's maxim about storms; and
it seems not inapplicable to wars. Certain it is that the frequent
wars of savage tribes are far less terrible than the infrequent
wars of enlightened powers.

This indicates that, even though a nation may be able to avert
war for a long time, war will come some day, in a form which the
present war foreshadows; and it suggests the possibility that the
longer the war is averted, the more tremendous it will be, the
greater the relative unpreparedness of a slothful nation, and the
sharper her punishment when war finally breaks upon her.




CHAPTER V

NAVAL DEFENSE

There has never been a time since Cain slew Abel when men have
not been compelled to devote a considerable part of their energies
to self-defense. In the early ages, before large organizations
existed or the mechanic arts had made much progress, defense was
mostly defense of life itself. As time went on, and people amassed
goods and chattels, and organized in groups and tribes, it came
to include the defense of property--not only the property of
individuals, but also of the tribe and the land it occupied. Still
later, defense carne to include good name or reputation, when it
was realized that the reputation, even of an organization, could
not be destroyed without doing it an injury.

At the present day, owing to the complexity of nations and other
organizations, and to the long time during which many of them have
existed, the question of defense has become extremely difficult. The
places in which defense has been brought to its highest excellence
are the large cities of the civilized countries; for there we see that
defense of the life, property, and reputation of every individual
has been carefully provided for. This has been made possible by
the intimate intermingling of the people, the absence of racial
rivalries, and the fact that the interests of all are identical
in the matter of defense of life, property, and reputation; since,
no matter how bad any individual may be, he wishes that others
shall be good, in order that he himself may be safe.

The defense of reputation has two aspects: the practical and the
sentimental. The practical aspect regards the defense of that element
of reputation which affects ability to "make a living"; while the
sentimental aspect is concerned with the purely personal reputation
of the individual, or with the reputation of an organization or a
nation. The sentimental aspect is much more important, especially
in enlightened nations, than is realized by some who have not thought
much about it; for there is, fortunately, in every decent man a
craving for the esteem and even the affection of his fellow men;
and a knowledge that, no matter how wealthy or powerful he may
be, he cannot be happy if he knows that he is despised.

The fact that individuals organize to acquire the strength of united
effort brings about, among organizations, a spirit of competition
like that among individuals. It is more intense, however, because
no man alone can get up the enthusiasms that ten men acting together
can get up, and ten men cannot get up as much as a thousand. The
longer any organization is maintained, the sharper this spirit
of rivalry grows to be, owing to the feeling of clanship that
propinquity and material interests evoke. Its acme is found in those
organizations called nations, that have lived together, nourished from
the same soil, for generations; where the same loves and jealousies
and hates that they now feel were felt by their fathers and their
grandfathers and great-grandfathers for centuries back. Among a
people possessing the potentialities of national solidarity and
greatness this feeling waxes, into a self-sacrificing devotion
to the nation and to the land that bore them.

That there should be such a thing is sometimes deplored; because
patriotism, like all human qualities, has its bad side and its
unfortunate effects. If it were not for patriotism there would
probably be no war, and the greatest suffering that the world endures
would thus be obviated. But if it were not for patriotism there
would be no competition among nations; and in any one nation there
would be no national spirit, no endeavor on the part of every man
to do his part toward making her strong, efficient, and of good
repute or toward making the people individually prosperous and
happy. In the same way, on a smaller scale, many people deplore
the necessity of competition among organizations, saying that it
is ruthless and selfish; that it stamps out the individual; that
it makes every man a mere cog in a money-getting machine; that it
brings about strife, hatred, jealousies, and sometimes murders;
that, if it were not for competition, all men would live together
in peace.

This may be so; but if it were not for competition there would
probably be little of that strenuous, endeavor without which no
effective progress in advancing the welfare of men has ever yet
been made. Of course, it may be that what we call "progress" has
really not advanced the welfare of men; that the savage in Samoa is
as happy as the millionaire in New York; that knowledge itself is not
an unmixed benefit; and if we accept this view, we may logically declare
that competition, progress, and patriotism are all disadvantages.
But who will go so far? It seems to be a fact that we cannot get
something for nothing: that every plus has its minus, every joy
its pain; that if men succeed in passing beyond the savage state,
and in overcoming the forces of nature, so that they can live in
houses with every modern luxury and convenience, they must pay for
it by a condition of competition that causes personal jealousies
among individuals, commercial wars among organizations, physical
wars among nations.

Yet the instinctive desire of every one is for peace and comfort,
for the maximum of good with the minimum of exertion; and therefore
the normal person dislikes to see interjected into human life the
abominable confusion of war. From this it comes about that every
nation, even if it consciously brings about a war, always endeavors
to make it appear that the other party is the aggressor. For this
reason in every country the army and navy are said to be for the
"defense" of the country. No nation, no matter how aggressive its
policy may secretly be, openly declares that it intends to provoke
aggression. This does not mean that any nation ever deliberately
raises an army and navy for aggression, and then consciously deceives
the world in regard to its intention; for men are so constituted as
to feel more or less unconsciously that their interests and desires
are proper and those of their opponent wrong; and every nation is
so firmly persuaded of the righteousness of its own policies as
to feel that any country which exhibits antagonism toward these
policies is trying to provoke a fight.

Now these policies, especially after a nation has adhered to them
for long, seem vital in her eyes, and they usually are so. To Great
Britain, whose major policy is that she must be mistress of the
seas, it is vital that she should be. Her people are surrounded
by the ocean, and unless they are willing simply to eke out an
agricultural existence, it is essential that she should be able
to manufacture articles, send them out in ships to all parts of
the world, and receive in return money and the products of other
lands. In order that she may be able to do this, she must feel
sure that no power on earth can restrain the peaceful sailing to
and fro of her exporting and importing ships. This assurance can be
had only through physical force; it can be exerted only by a navy.
Germany has been gradually coming into the same position, and the
same clear comprehension, owing to the increase of her population,
the growth of their desire for wealth, and their realization of
the control by Great Britain and the United States of large areas
of the surface of the earth. Germany's determination to break down,
at least in part, that overpowering command of the sea which Great
Britain wields has been the result. The ensuing rapid growth and
excellence of Germany's navy and merchant marine brought Germany
and England into sharp competition. Military and naval men have
seen for years that these competing nations would have to go to
war some day in "self-defense."

In the minds of some people the idea of what constitutes "defense"
is rather hazy, and "defense" is deemed almost synonymous with
"resistance." Perhaps the clearest idea of what constitutes "defense"
is given in a sentence in Webster's Dictionary, that reads: "The
inmates of a fortress are _defended_ by its guns, _protected_ by
its walls, and _guarded_ against surprise by sentries."

The distinction is important, and the partially aggressive character
of defense it indicates is exemplified in all walks of human and
brute life. Any animal, no matter how peaceably inclined, will
turn on his aggressor--unless, indeed, he runs away. No one ever
saw any brute oppose a merely passive resistance to attack. Every
man recognizes in himself an instinct to hit back if he is hit. If
it be an instinct, it must have been implanted in us for a reason;
and the reason is not hard to find in the universal law of
self-protection, which cannot be satisfied with the ineffectual
method of mere parrying or resisting.

Naval defense, like military defense, therefore, is not passive
defense only, but contains an element of "offense" as well. When
the defense contains in large measure the element of offense, it is
said in military parlance to be "offensive-defensive"; and the most
effective defensive is this offensive-defensive. When a defending
force throws off its defensive attitude entirely and advances boldly
to attack, it is said to have "assumed the offensive"; but even this
assumption, especially if it be temporary--as when a beleaguered
garrison makes a sortie--does not rob the situation of its defensive
character.

For these reasons the dividing line between offense and defense
is very vague; and it is made more vague through a realization by
all military people that the offense has certain decided advantages
over the defense (unless the defense has the advantage of position);
so that when strained relations between two nations come, each
is so fearful that the other will take the offensive first, when
the two nations are near each other, that it is apt to take the
offensive first--in real _self-defense!_ A striking illustration
is the action of certain European Powers in the latter part of
July, 1914.

In addition to the sincere convictions of either party, there is
also apt to be considerable yielding to the temptation to persuade
the world that the other party is the aggressor, merely to get the
sympathy that usually goes to the innocent victim--the support
of what Bismarck called "the imponderables." Few wars have been
frankly "offensive," like the conquests of Alexander, Cæsar, and
Pizarro, at least in modern times; each side has usually claimed
(and often sincerely believed) that its action was demanded in
self-defense and that its cause was just.

To some in the United States naval defense means merely defense
against invasion. This notion is of recent growth, and certainly was
not held by the framers of our Constitution. Section 8 of Article
I defines the powers of Congress; and although eight of the eighteen
paragraphs deal exclusively with measures of defense on sea and land,
only one of those paragraphs (the fifteenth) deals with invasion.
The, first paragraph reads:

The Congress shall have power to lay and collect taxes, duties,
imposts, and excises, _to pay the debts and provide for the common
defense and general welfare of the United States_; but all duties,
imposts, and excises shall be uniform throughout the United States.

The juxtaposition of the words "common defense" and "general welfare"
in this admirably written paragraph could hardly have been accidental,
or have been due to any other cause than a juxtaposition of those
ideas in the minds of the Constitution's framers. And what more
natural connection can there be between any two ideas than between
those of common defense and general welfare, since the general
welfare of no country has ever continued long unless it was defended.
Now the general welfare of every maritime power has always been
intimately concerned with its sea-borne commerce. It is only by
means of sea-borne commerce, for instance, that Americans can live
in the way Americans wish to live. "General welfare" means more
than mere existence. A mere existence is the life a savage lives.
Furthermore, the general welfare of a country requires the safety
of its exported and imported goods while on the sea, and includes
the right of its citizens to travel with safety in every land,
to buy and sell in foreign ports, to feel a proper measure of
self-respect and national respect wherever they may go, and to
command from the people of the lands they visit a proper recognition
of their claims to justice.

Naval defense may, therefore, be said to consist of three parts:

1st--Defense of the coast against bombardment and invasion.

2d--Defense of the trade routes traversed by ships carrying the
exports and imports of the country.

3d--Defense of the national policy, including defense of the nation's
reputation, honor, and prestige.

Of these, defense of the coast against bombardment and invasion is
the easiest, and defense of the national policy the most difficult;
because in preventing bombardment and invasion the defender has the
strategical advantage of being nearer home than the adversary;
while in the defense of a country's policy, a naval force may have
to "assume the offensive," and go even to the far distant coasts
of the enemy--as the Russian fleet went to Tsushima, where it met
its death.

In that part of naval defense which is concerned with trade routes,
the strategical advantage must go, in general, to that side which
is the nearer to the locality where the decisive battle may occur.

In laying down a policy of naval defense, however, it is not necessary
to consider these three parts separately, because no nation can
ever tell whether in the distant future its naval defense will
have to be used directly for any one of the three, or for all.
In general terms, it may be stated that in nearly all naval wars
the fleet has been used more for the defense of the nation's policy
than for the actual defense of the coasts or the trade routes. This
does not mean that there has never been a bombardment or invasion,
or that the defense of trade routes may not have been the cause of
the war itself; but it does mean that in actual wars bombardment
or invasion has been rare, the capture of merchant vessels has
played a minor part, and the deciding events have been battles
between two fleets, that were often far from the land of either.

Owing to the fact that within modern times most of the important
countries of the world have been those of continental Europe, with
frontiers contiguous, and in fact identical, the defense of a country
has been largely committed to the army, and most of the wars have
been on land. The country standing in exception to this has been
Great Britain, whose isolated and insular situation demanded a
defense that was strictly naval. The tremendous advance in recent
times of the engineering arts, by which ships became larger and
faster, and able to carry more powerful and accurate guns than ever
before, has enhanced the value of naval power and enabled Great
Britain to reach all over the surface of the earth, and become more
powerful than any continental nation. Thus she has made out of the
very weakness of her position a paramount tower of strength.

Naval defense was taken up systematically in Great Britain in the
eighth century by King Offa, to whom is credited the maxim, "He
who would be secure on land must be supreme at sea"; but it must
have dropped to a low ebb by 1066, for William of Normandy landed
in England unopposed. Since that time Great Britain's naval defense,
committed to her navy, has increased steadily in effectiveness and
power, keeping pace with the increase in the national interests
it defended, and utilizing all the growing resources of wealth
and science which the world afforded. Until the present crisis,
Great Britain's naval defense did its most important work during
Napoleon's time, when Great Britain's standing, like the standing
of every other European nation, was subjected to a strain that
it could hardly bear. So keenly, however, did the nation and the
nation's great leader, Pitt, realize the situation that the most
strenuous measures were adopted to keep the navy up, press-gangs
even visiting the houses of subjects of the King, taking men out and
putting them by force on board his Majesty's ships. But the British
navy, even more than the British army, brought Great Britain safe
out of the Napoleonic danger, and made the British the paramount
nation of the world.

Since then Great Britain has waxed more and more powerful, her
avowed policy being that her navy should be equal to any other two;
realizing that her aloofness in point of national characteristics
and policy from all other nations made it possible that a coalition
of at least two great nations might be pitted against her at a
time when she could not get an ally. Accompanying the growth of
the British navy has been the establishment of British foreign
trade, British colonies, and British bases from which the navy
could work, and the general making of a network of British commerce
and British power over the surface of the earth. No other nation
has ever dominated so large a part of the surface of the globe as
has Great Britain during the last two centuries; and she has done
it by means of her naval power. This naval power has been, in the
language of Great Britain, for the "imperial defense"; not for coast
defense alone, but for the defense of all the imperial interests,
commercial and political, and even the imperial prestige. And this
defense of prestige, it may here be remarked, is not a vainglorious
defense, not an exhibition of a swaggering, swashbuckling spirit, but
a recognition of the fact that the minds of men are so constituted
that the prestige of an individual, an organization, or a nation
has a practical value and is an actual force. No government that
appreciates its responsibilities will willingly risk the prestige of
the nation which it governs, because it knows that any weakening
of it will be followed by a weakening of influence and a consequent
increase of difficulty in attaining some "end in view."

The greatness of the British navy, compared with that of the British
army and the other elements of Great Britain's government, has taken
on magnified dimensions during the last half century. So long as
war-ships used sails as their principal motive power, so long were
they forced to employ methods of construction and equipment that
forbade the efficient employment of high-power guns, the attainment
of great speed, and the use of instruments of precision; so long,
in other words, was their military effectiveness prevented from
increasing greatly. But when the British navy decided to abandon
sail power altogether and propel their ships by steam, a new phase
was entered upon, in which every resource of the engineering arts
and the physical sciences was called into requisition; and now,
on board a dreadnaught, battle cruiser, destroyer, or submarine,
can be found the highest examples of mechanical and electrical art
and science. Every material resource which the brain and wealth
of man can compass is enlisted in her naval defense; and in order
to take advantage of the rapidity and certainty of movement they
afford for operating fleets and ships, there has been a great advance
in methods of operation, or, in military parlance, "staff work."
To assist this work, the radio, the cable, and even the humble
typewriter have contributed their essential share, with the result
that to Great Britain's naval defense there has been devoted an
extraordinary degree of efficiency, continuous effort, a more varied
activity, and a larger expenditure of money than to any other object
of man's activity.

The United States navy, to which is committed the naval defense
of the United States, has followed the same lines as the British;
and its task, while in some ways easier, is in other ways more
difficult. Perhaps the chief reason why the naval defense of Great
Britain is so difficult is the extreme closeness of her borders
to the borders of her possible foes--for the English Channel is
only twenty-three miles across from Dover to Calais. And yet the
very narrowness of the Channel there lends a certain element of
assistance to the defender of either coast against an enemy like
Germany, because it enables the defender, by simply protecting that
narrow area, to prevent an enemy from passing to the sea or from it,
except by going around the British Isles. But while it is interesting
thus to compare the tasks of two navies by comparing the lengths
of coast line, populations, wealth, and areas of their countries,
or their distances from possible antagonists, such comparisons are
really misleading; for the reason that all nations are on a par
in regard to the paramount element of national defense, which is
defense of national policy. It was as important to Belgium as it
was to Germany to maintain the national policy, and the army of
Belgium was approximately as strong as that of Germany in proportion
to her wealth, area, and population; but nevertheless the Belgium
army was routed, and Belgium was conquered by the German army.

Much has been written to prove that the sole reason for the possession
of the paramount navy by Great Britain is that the soil of Great
Britain cannot support her people. In an essay, entitled "Naval
Power," which I contributed to the _United States Naval Institute_
in 1911, the fallacy of this was shown; and it was pointed out that
even if Great Britain grew more than enough to feed her people,
life could be made unendurable to the 60,000,000 living there (or to
the people in any civilized and isolated country) by an effective
blockading fleet. _The question of how great a navy any country needs
depends, not on the size, but on the policies of that country, and
on the navies of the countries that may oppose those policies_. The
navy that a country needs is a navy that can defend its policies,
both offensively and defensively. If, for instance, the United States
does not wish to enforce any policy that Great Britain would oppose,
or to oppose any policy that Great Britain would enforce, then we
may leave her navy out of consideration. But if we decide that we
must maintain a certain policy which a certain country may oppose,
then we must have a navy at least equal to hers; because we do not
know whether we should have to meet that navy near our coast, or
near hers, or far away from both. For the reason, furthermore, that
a war with a European Power might occur at a period of strained
relations with some Asiatic Power, we must realize the temptation
to that Asiatic Power to seize the opportunity and attack us on
the Pacific side, knowing that we should need all our navy on the
Atlantic side. This seems to mean that in order to have an effective
naval defense (since we are precluded by our policy from having
European allies and no South American country could give us any
effective naval help) we must have on each ocean a fleet as strong
as that of any nation on that ocean against whose wishes we may
have to enforce a policy--or against whose policy we may have to
oppose resistance.

The essential requirement of any defense is that it shall be adequate;
because an inadequate defense will be broken down, while the attack
will retain a large proportion of its original strength. In the
_United States Naval Institute_, in 1905, the present writer showed,
by means of a series of tables, how, when two forces fight, the
force which is originally the more powerful will become gradually
more powerful, relatively to the weaker, as the fight goes on. That,
for instance, if two forces start with the relative powers of 10 and
8, the weaker force will be reduced so much more rapidly than the
stronger that when it has been reduced to zero the stronger force
will have a value of 5.69. The values mentioned indicated the actual
fighting strength--strength made up of all the factors--material,
physical, and psychic--that constituted it. Of course, none of
these factors can ever be accurately compared; but nevertheless
the tables seemed to prove that in a contest between two forces
whose total strengths are as 10 and 8 one force will be reduced
to zero, while the other will be reduced not quite one-half.

One of the lessons drawn was "the folly of ineffectual resistance."
Doubtless a clearer lesson would have been "the folly of ineffectual
preparedness"; because, when the decision as to resistance or
non-resistance is forced upon a nation, the matter is so urgent,
the military, political, and international conditions so complex,
and the excitement probably so intense, that a wise decision is
very difficult to reach; whereas the question of what constitutes
effectual preparedness is simple, and needs merely to be approached
with calm nerves and an open mind.

Inasmuch as the psychic element in defense is the strongest single
element, it is apparent that if the decision is reached to prepare
an effectual defense the nation must be absolutely united, and
must appreciate at its full value the debilitating influence of
opposition to the measure; for, no matter how much money a nation
may expend, no matter how many lives it may sacrifice, its defense
cannot have an efficiency proportional to the effort if a considerable
number of its citizens are permitted to oppose it.

In our own country there has been so much talking and writing recently
about defense, that there is danger of the question coming to be
considered academic; though no question is more practical, no question
is more urgent.

_Defense must defend_.




CHAPTER VI

NAVAL POLICY

Every country that has a satisfactory navy has acquired it as the
result of a far-seeing naval policy, not of opportunism or of chance.
The country has first studied the question thoroughly, then decided
what it ought to do, then decided how to do it.

Naval policy has to deal with three elements: material, personnel,
and operations, which, though separate, are mutually dependent. A
clear comprehension of their actual relations and relative weights
can be obtained only by thorough study; but without that comprehension
no wise naval policy can be formulated, and therefore no satisfactory
navy can be established.

The most obvious thing about a navy is its material: the ponderous
battleships, the picturesque destroyers, the submarines, the intricate
engines of multifarious types, the radio, the signal-flags, the
torpedo that costs $8,000, the gun that can sink a ship 10 miles
away.

The United States navy ever since its beginning in 1775 has excelled
in its material; the ships have always been good, and in many cases
they have surpassed those of similar kind in other navies. This
has been due to the strong common sense of the American people,
their engineering skill, and their inventive genius. The first
war-ship to move under steam was the American ship _Demologos_,
sometimes called the _Fulton the First_, constructed in 1813; the
first electric torpedoes were American; the first submarine to do
effective work in war was American; the first turret ship, the
_Monitor_, was American; the first warship to use a screw propeller
was the _Princeton_, an American; the naval telescope-sight was
American. American ships now are not only well constructed, but all
their equipments are of the best; and to-day the American battleship
is the finest and most powerful vessel of her class in the world.

Our personnel, too, has always been good. The American seaman has
always excelled, and so has the American gunner. No ships have
ever been better handled than the American ships; no naval battles
in history have been conducted with more skill and daring than
those of American ships; no exploits in history surpass those of
Cushing, Hobson, and Decatur.

In operations, however, in the handling of the navy as a whole,
we have never excelled; though no better individual fleet leaders
shine in the pages of all history than Farragut and Dewey. The
strategical operating of our material and personnel has not been
in accordance with carefully laid plans, but has been left largely
to the inspiration of the commander on the spot, both in peace
and in war. Material has suffered from lack of a naval policy,
but only quantitatively, because material is a subject that the
people understand. Personnel has suffered more, because the people
fail to realize the amount of training needed to make a personnel
competent to perform their tasks successfully, in competition with
the highly trained men of other navies. But operations have suffered
incomparably more than material and personnel; because naturally
the people do not comprehend the supreme importance of being ready,
when war breaks out, to operate the material and personnel skilfully
against an active enemy, in accordance with well-prepared strategic
plans; nor do they realize how difficult and long would be the task
of preparing and testing out those plans. Therefore, they fail to
provide the necessary administrative machinery.[*]

[Footnote *: Since this was written, the Congress has so enlarged
the scope of the Office of Chief of Naval Operations as to make
it a General Staff.]

In fact, the kind and amount of machinery needed to conduct operations
skilfully and quickly cannot be decided wisely until the country
adopts some naval policy; and in naval policy the United States
must be admitted to have lagged behind almost every other civilized
country. Spurred as we were to exertion by the coming of the
Revolutionary War, we constructed hastily, though with skill, the
splendid ships that did service in that war. But after the war,
interest in the navy waned; and if it had not been for the enormous
tribute demanded by the pirates of the Barbary coast from our
government, and a realization of the fact that not only was it
cheaper to build ships and fight the pirates than to pay the tribute,
but paying the tribute was a disgraceful act, our navy would have
run down even more than it did. Yet even with this warning, 1812
found our navy in a desperate condition. Rallying to the emergency,
though too late to accomplish much practical result, we built a number
of excellent ships, against the votes of many highly influential
men in Congress. These ships did gallant service, and redeemed
the reputation of Americans from the oft-repeated charge of being
cowards and merely commercial men, though they were too few to
prevent the blockade which British squadrons maintained on our
Atlantic coast. After the war, the navy was again allowed to
deteriorate; and although our ships were excellent, and the officers
and men were excellent, and although the war with Mexico supplied
some stimulation, the War of the Rebellion caught us in a very
bad predicament. The country rose to this emergency too slowly,
as before; but the enemy were even less prepared than we, so that
during the four years of the Civil War we were able to construct,
man, and buy several hundred ships of various kinds; with the result
that, at the end of the war, our navy, if not quite so powerful as
Great Britain's, was at least very close to it, and with a recent
experience in actual war which the British navy did not possess.

After that war, the same story was repeated. The people convinced
themselves that they would never again be forced to go to war; that
they had seen the folly of it, and the misery of it, and would
devote themselves thereafter to the delightful pursuits of peace.
Gradually the fighting ships of the ironclad class were allowed
to go to pieces; gradually even the larger ships of the wooden
sailing class fell into disrepair; gradually the idea of war faded
from the minds even of naval officers; gradually squadrons and
fleets, as such, were broken up, and our ships were to be found
scattered singly over all the seas, and swinging idly at their
anchors in pleasant ports.

Fortunately, Admiral Luce and a very few other officers had learned
the salient lessons of war during the Rebellion, and sturdily stood up
against the decadent tendency of the times. Against much opposition,
Luce succeeded in founding the Naval War College at Newport, where
the study of war as an art in itself was to be prosecuted, and in
enlisting Captain Mahan in the work. In a few years Mahan gave to
the world that epochal book, "The Influence of Sea Power upon History"
(embodying his lectures before the War College), which stirred the
nations of Europe to such a realization of the significance of
naval history, and such a comprehension of the efficacy of naval
power, that they entered upon a determined competition for acquiring
naval power, which continues to this day.

Meanwhile, a little before 1880, the people became aroused to the
fact that though the country was growing richer, their navy was
becoming weaker, while the navies of certain European countries
were becoming stronger. So they began in 1880 the construction of
what was then called "the new navy." The construction of the new
ships was undertaken upon the lines of the ships then building abroad,
which were in startling contrast with the useless old-fashioned
American ships which then were flying our flag.

The construction of the material of the navy has progressed since
then, but spasmodically. At every session of Congress tremendous
efforts have been made by people desiring an adequate navy, and
tremendous resistance has been made by people who believed that we
required no navy, or at least only a little navy. The country at
large has taken a bystander's interest in the contest, not knowing
much about the pros and cons, but feeling in an indolent fashion
that we needed some navy, though not much. The result has been, not
a reasonable policy, but a succession of unreasonable compromises
between the aims of the extremists on both sides.

Great Britain, on the other hand, has always regarded the navy
question as one of the most difficult and important before the
country, and has adopted, and for centuries has maintained, a definite
naval policy. This does not mean that she has followed a rigid
naval policy; for a naval policy, to be efficient, must be able
to accommodate itself quickly to rapid changes in international
situations, and to meet sudden dangers from even unexpected quarters--as
the comparatively recent experience of Great Britain shows. At the
beginning of this century the British navy was at the height of
its splendor and self-confidence. Britannia ruled the waves, and
Britannia's ships and squadrons enforced Britannia's policies in
every sea. The next most powerful navy was that of France; but
it was not nearly so large, and seemed to be no more efficient,
in proportion to its size. Owing to Britain's wise and continuing
policy, and the excellence of the British sailor and his ships,
the British navy proudly and almost tranquilly held virtual command
of all the seas.

But shortly after this century began, British officers discerned a
new and disturbing element gradually developing on the horizon. The
first thing which roused their attention to it was the unexpected
attack of the Japanese torpedo-boats on the Russian squadron in
Port Arthur. No war had been declared, and the Russian squadron
was riding peacefully at anchor. The suddenness of the attack, and
the distinct though incomplete success which it achieved, startled
the British into a realization of the fact that there had been
introduced into warfare on the sea methods and tactics requiring _a
higher order of preparation_ than had ever before been known; that
the scientific methods which the Germans employed so effectively on
land in 1870 had been adapted by the Japanese to naval warfare, and
would necessitate the introduction into naval policies of _speedier
methods_ than had hitherto been needed.

Another event which had happened shortly before showed that naval
policies would have to be modified, if they were to utilize recent
advances in scientific methods. This event was the unprecedented
success at target practice of H. M. S. _Terrible_, commanded by
Captain Sir Percy Scott, which proved that by a long and strenuous
training and the adoption of instruments of precision, it was possible
to attain a skill in naval gunnery never attained before. Up to this
moment the British navy had almost despised gunnery. Inheriting the
traditions brought down from Howe, Rodney, and Nelson, permeated with
the ideals of the "blue-water school," proud of being British seamen,
proud of the pure white of their ships, enamoured of the stimulating
breeziness of the quarterdeck and bridge, imbued with almost a
contempt for such mathematical sciences as were not directly used
in practical navigation, British naval officers exalted seamanship
as the acme of their art, and took little interest in gunnery.
All the battles of the past had been won by dash and seamanship
and dogged persistence. Ships had always fought close alongside
each other. No science had ever won any naval battle of the past,
so why should they bother with science now--and why should they
bother with target practice, except just enough to insure that the
battery was in order, and that the men were not afraid of their
guns? Besides, target practice dirtied the ship--a sacrilege to
the British naval officer.

But the events of the war between Japan and Russia, especially
the naval battles of Port Arthur, August 10, 1904, and the Sea
of Japan, May 27, 1905, riveted their attention on the fact that
something more than seamanship and navigation and clean ships would
be needed, if the British navy was to maintain its proud supremacy
on the sea; for in these battles, overwhelming victories were won
purely by superior skill in gunnery, strategy, and tactics.

To these causes of awakening was added one still greater, but of
like import--the rapid rise of the German navy from a position
of comparative unimportance to one which threatened the British
navy itself. The fact became gradually evident to British officers
that the German navy was proceeding along the same lines as had
proceeded the German army. Realizing the efficiency of the German
Government, noting the public declarations of the German Emperor,
observing the excellence of the German ships, the skill of the
German naval officers, and the extraordinary energy which the German
people were devoting to the improvement of the German navy--the
British navy took alarm.

So did the other navies.

Beginning about 1904, Great Britain set to work with energy to
reform her naval policy. Roused to action by the sense of coming
danger, she augmented the size and number of vessels of all types;
increased the personnel of all classes, regular and reserve; scrapped
all obsolete craft; built (secretly) the epochal _Dreadnaught_,
and modernized in all particulars the British navy. In every great
movement one man always stands pre-eminent. The man in this case was
Admiral Sir John Fisher, first sea lord of the admiralty, afterward
Lord Fisher. Fisher brought about vital changes in the organization,
methods, and even the spirit of the navy. He depleted the overgrown
foreign squadrons, concentrated the British force in powerful fleets
near home, established the War College, inculcated the study of
strategy and tactics, appointed Sir Percy Scott as inspector of
target practice, put the whole weight of his influence on the side
of gunnery and efficiency, placed officers in high command who had
the military idea as distinguished from the idea of the "blue-water
school," and imbued the entire service with the avowed idea that
they must get ready to fight to the death, not the French navy,
with its easy-going methods, but the German navy, allied perhaps
with some other. At the admiralty he introduced methods analogous to
those of the General Staff, to maintain the navy ready for instant
service at all times, to prepare and keep up to date mobilization
plans in the utmost detail, and to arrange plans for the conduct
of war in such wise that after a war should break out, all the
various probable situations would have been studied out in advance.

The work required at the admiralty, and still more in the fleet--night
and day and in all weathers--taxed mental and physical endurance to
the limit; but the result was complete success; for when war broke
out on the 1st of August, 1914, the British navy was absolutely
ready. Many complaints have appeared in print about the unreadiness
of Great Britain; but no one who knows anything of the facts supposes
that these criticisms include Great Britain's navy.

The United States navy in the early part of this century occupied,
relatively to others, a very ill-defined position; but the increased
interest taken in it by our people after the Spanish War, combined
with the destruction of the flower of the Russian fleet in the
Russo-Japanese War, and the crushing blow inflicted on the French
navy by the maladministration of Camille Pelletan, resulted in
placing our navy, about three years ago, in a position second only
to Great Britain's--a position which it recently has lost. Owing
to a common origin and language, our navy has always followed the
British navy, though at a somewhat respectful distance; and while
it is true that in point of mechanical inventions we are ahead, in
seamanship, navigation, and engineering on a par, and in gunnery
and tactics not far behind, yet we must admit that in policy and
in policy's first cousin, strategy, we are very far in the rear.

There are many reasons why this should be, the first being that
the British navy has nearly always lived under more stimulating
conditions than we, because the probability of war has seemed greater,
and because the United States has underestimated what reasonable
probability there has been, and failed to realize how tremendously
difficult would be the task of getting ready for it. Owing to the
present war, our people have gradually come to see that they must
get more ships and other material; but they realize this as only a
measure of urgency, and not as a matter of policy. If the emergency
passes us by in safety, the people may see in this fact only a
confirmation of their notion that war can be postponed _ad infinitum_,
and may therefore fail to take due precautions for the future. If
so, when we at last become involved in a sudden war, we shall be
as unprepared as now; and, relatively to some aggressive nation
which, foreseeing this, may purposely prepare itself, we shall
be more unprepared.

A curious phase of the navy question in our country is the fact
that very few people, even the most extreme partisans for or against
a large navy, have ever studied it as a problem and endeavored
to arrive at a correct solution. Few have realized that it is a
problem, in the strictest sense of the word; and that unless one
approaches it as such his conclusions cannot be correct except
by accident.

In Germany, on the other hand, and equally in Japan, the question
has been taken up as a concrete problem, just as definite as a
problem in engineering. They have used for solving it the method
called "The Estimate of the Situation," originated by the German
General Staff, which is now adopted in all the armies and navies of
civilized countries for the solution of military problems. Previous
to the adoption of this method the general procedure had been such
as is now common in civil life, when a number of people forming
a group desire to make a decision as to what they will do in any
given contingency. The usual procedure is for some one to suggest
that a certain thing be done, then for somebody else to suggest
that something else be done, and so on; and then finally for the
group to make a decision which is virtually a compromise. This
procedure is faulty, and the decisions resulting are apt to be
unwise; because it is quite possible that some very important factors
may be overlooked, and equally possible that some other factors
be given undue weight. Furthermore, a measure advocated by a man
who has the persuasive and emotional abilities of the orator is
more apt to be favorably considered than a measure advocated by
a man not possessing those abilities.

In the "Estimate of the Situation" method, on the other hand, the
orator has no opportunity, because the procedure is simply an accurate
process of reasoning. It is divided into four parts. The first
part consists of a careful study of the "mission," ending in a
clear determination of what the "mission" really is--that is, _what
is the thing which it is desired to do?_ The second part consists
of a careful study, and eventually a clear comprehension, of the
difficulties in the way; the third part consists of a careful study,
and eventually a clear comprehension, of what facilities are available
with which to overcome the difficulties; the fourth part consists
of a careful study of the mission, difficulties and facilities, in
their mutual relations, and a "decision" as to what should therefore
be done.

Military and naval people are so thoroughly convinced of the value
of this method that they always employ it when making important
decisions, writing down the various factors and the successive
steps in regular order and in complete detail.

In this country, while naval and military people use this method
in their comparatively minor problems, the country at large does
not use it in deciding the major problem--that is, in deciding
how much navy they want, and of what composition. They do not take
even the first step toward formulating a naval policy, because
they do not study the "mission" of the navy--that is, _they do not
study the international and national situations and their bearing
on the need for a navy_. Yet until they do this they will not be
in a sufficiently informed condition of mind to determine what
the "mission" is--that is, what they wish the navy to be able to
do--because, before they can formulate the mission they must resolve
what foreign navy or navies that mission must include. If they
decide that the mission of the navy is to guard our coast and trade
routes against the hostile efforts of Liberia the resulting naval
policy will be simple and inexpensive; while if they conclude that
the mission of our navy is to guard our coast and trade routes
against the hostile acts of _any_ navy the resulting naval policy
will be so difficult and costly as to tax the brain and wealth of
the country to a degree that will depend on _the length of time
that will elapse before the date at which the navy must be ready
to fulfil that mission_.

This factor reminds us of another factor: _the minimum time in which
the navy can get ready to fulfil a given mission_ (for instance,
to protect us against any navy); and we cannot decide the mission
correctly without taking this factor into account. For example,
it would be foolish to decide that the mission of our navy is to
protect us _now_ against any navy, including the greatest, when
it would take us at least twenty years to develop and train a navy
to accomplish that task; and it would be equally foolish to decide
that the mission is to protect us against any navy _except_ the
greatest, because such a decision could rest on no other ground
than present improbability of conflict with the greatest navy,
or improbability for the very few years ahead (say two or three)
which we poor mortals can forecast.

This reasoning seems to indicate that the first step in formulating
a naval policy for the United States is to realize that any conclusion
as to which navies should be included in the mission of our navy
must not exclude any navy about whose peaceful conduct toward us
we can entertain a reasonable doubt, _during the period of time
which we would require to get ready to meet her_. For instance,
inasmuch as it would take us at least twenty years to get ready
to protect ourselves against the hostile efforts of the British
navy, we cannot exclude even that navy from a consideration of the
mission of our own, unless we entertain no doubt of the peaceful
attitude of that navy toward us for at least that twenty years.

Clearly, the problem is not only very important but very
difficult--perhaps the most difficult single problem before the
country; and for this reason, naval officers have long marvelled
that the leading minds of the country do not undertake it. Perhaps
one reason is that they do not know how difficult it is: that they
do not realize the extraordinary complexity of modern ships and
engines, and the trained skill required to handle them; that they
do not realize what Great Britain now realizes, that we must prepare
for one of the most stupendous struggles ever carried on; that we
must have a personnel both of officers and enlisted men trained
to the highest point, because they will have to meet officers and
enlisted men trained to the highest point; that the training must
be such that the skill produced can be exercised by night and day,
in cold and heat, in storm and calm, under circumstances of the
utmost possible difficulty and danger; that, while it takes four
years to build a ship and get her into the fleet as an effective
unit, it takes much longer to train an enlisted petty officer as
he should be trained, and a lifetime to train officers of the upper
grades. Perhaps also our leading minds do not realize the intellectual
requirements of the higher realms of the naval art, or comprehend
what the examples of Alexander, Cæsar, Napoleon, Nelson, and Farragut
prove: that, _in the real crises of a nation's life her most valuable
asset is the trained skill in strategy that directs the movements
of her forces_.

Further than this, they may not realize that the greater the danger
which they must avert, the earlier they must begin to prepare for
it, because the more work in preparation will have to be performed;
and yet realization of this truth is absolutely vital, as is also
realization of the fact that we have no military power as our ally,
and therefore must be ready to meet alone a hostile attack (though
perhaps in the far-distant future) from _any_ foreign power. To
see that this is true it is merely necessary to note the facts of
history, and observe how nations that have long been on terms of
friendship have suddenly found themselves at war with each other;
and how countries which have always been hostile have found themselves
fighting side by side. In the present war, Great Britain is allied
with the two countries toward which, more than toward any other,
she has been hostile; and she is fighting the country to which,
more than any other, she is bound by ties of consanguinity and
common interests. The history of war is so filled with alternations
of peace and war between every pair of contiguous countries as to
suggest the thought that the mere fact of two countries having
interests that are common is a reason why their respective shares
in those interests may conflict; that countries which have no common
interests have nothing to fight about; that it is only for things
in which two nations are interested, and which both desire, that
those two nations fight.

If our estimate of the situation should lead us to the decision
that we must prepare our navy in such a way that, say twenty years
hence, it will be able to protect the country against any enemy,
we shall then instinctively adopt a policy. The fact of having
ahead of us a definite, difficult thing to do, will at once take us
out of the region of guesswork, and force us into logical methods.
We shall realize the problem in its entirety; we shall see the
relation of one part to another, and of all the parts to the whole;
we shall realize that the deepest study of the wisest men must be
devoted to it, as it is in all maritime countries except our own.
The very difficulties of the problem, the very scope and greatness
of it, the fact that national failure or national success will
hinge on the way we solve it, will call into action the profoundest
minds in all the nation. We shall realize that, more than any other
problem before the country, this problem is urgent; because in no
other problem have we so much lost time to make up for, and in
no other work of the government are we so far behind the great
nations that we may have to contend against.

Great Britain was startled into a correct estimate of the situation
ten years ago, and at once directed perhaps the best of her ability
to meet it. Certain it is that no other department of the British
Government is in such good condition as the navy; in no other department
has the problem been so thoroughly understood, and so conscientiously
worked out, or the success been so triumphant.

The underlying reason for this is not so much the individual courage
and ability of the officers and men, or even their skill in handling
their ships and squadrons, as the fact that Great Britain has followed
a definite naval policy; so that the British nation has had a perfectly
clear realization of what it wishes the navy to do, and the navy
has had a perfectly clear realization of how to do it.

The United States has not yet made a correct estimate of the naval
situation; she has not yet reached the point that Great Britain
reached ten years ago. Great Britain apprehended the danger, and
took action before it was too late. Shall the United States take
action now or wait until it is too late?




PART II

NAVAL STRATEGY




CHAPTER VII

GENERAL PRINCIPLES

Strategy is difficult of definition; but though many definitions
have been made, and though they do not agree together very well,
yet all agree that strategy is concerned with the preparation of
military forces for war and for operating them in war--while tactics
is the immediate instrument for handling them in battle. Strategy
thinks out a situation beforehand, and decides what preparations
as to material, personnel, and operations should be made.

Many books have been written on strategy, meaning strategy as applied
to armies, but very few books have been written on naval strategy.
The obvious reasons are that armies in the past have been much
larger and more important than navies; that naval men have only
recently had the appliances on board ship for writing on an extensive
scale; and that the nature of their occupation has been such that
continuous application of the kind needed for thinking out principles
and expounding them in books, has only recently been possible.

Most of the few existing books on naval strategy deal with it
historically, by describing and explaining the naval campaigns
of the past and such land campaigns as illustrate principles that
apply to sea and land alike. Perhaps the best books are those of
Darrieus and Mahan.

Until about fifty years ago, it was only by experience in actual
war, supplemented by laborious study of the campaigns of the great
commanders, and the reading of books on strategy which pointed
out and expounded the principles involved in them, that one could
arrive at any clear idea of strategy.

But wars have fortunately been so infrequent, the information about
them has often been so conflicting, and so many results have been
due to chance, that, in default of experience, the mere reading
of books did not lead to very satisfactory results, except in the
case of geniuses; and therefore war problems and war games were
devised, in which the various factors of material and personnel
were represented, and made as true to life as possible.

The _tactical_ games resulting, which naval strategists now play,
employ models of the various craft used in war, such as battleships,
submarines, etc., and are governed by rules that regulate the movements
of those craft on a sort of big chess-board, several feet square, that
represents an area of water several miles square. The _strategic_
games and problems are based on principles similar to those on which
the tactical games are based, in the sense that actual operations are
carried on in miniature; but naturally, the strategical operations
cover several hundred miles, and sometimes thousands. The aim of
both the tactical and the strategic games is to determine as closely
as possible the laws that decide victory or defeat; and therefore,
for any country, the material, personnel and operations it should
employ. Naturally the results obtained are not quite so convincing
as those of actual war or battle; but they are more convincing
than can be attained in any other way, as yet devised, especially
as many of the operations of the game-board that turn out well in
games are tried out afterward by the fleet in peace maneuvers.
War games and problems may be compared to the drawings that an
architect makes of a house which some one wants to build; the plans
and drawings are not so realistic as a real house, but they are
better than anything else; and, like the war games, they can be
altered and realtered until the best result seems to have been
attained, considering the amount of money allowed and other practical
conditions.

The idea of devising war games and war problems seems to have originated
with Von Moltke; certainly it was first put in practice by his
direction. Shortly after he became chief of the General Staff of
the Prussian army in 1857, he set to work to carry out the ideas
which he had had in mind for several years, while occupying minor
posts, but which he had not had the power to enforce. It seems to
have become clear to his mind that, if a chess-player acquired
skill, not only by playing actual games and by studying actual
games played by masters, but also by working out hypothetical chess
problems, it ought to be possible to devise a system whereby army
officers could supplement their necessarily meagre experience of
actual war, and their necessarily limited opportunities for studying
with full knowledge the actual campaigns of great strategists,
by working out hypothetical, tactical, and strategic problems.
Von Moltke succeeded in devising such a system and in putting it
into successful operation. Hypothetical problems were prepared,
in which enemy forces were confronted with each other under given
circumstances of weather, terrain, and distances, each force with
its objective known only to itself: for instance, you are in command
of such and such a force at such and such a place; you have received
orders to accomplish such and such a purpose; you receive information
that the enemy, comprising such and such troops, was at a certain
time at a certain place, and marching in a certain direction. What
do you do?

Classes of army officers were formed, and compelled to work out
the problems exactly as boys at school were compelled to work out
problems in arithmetic. The skill of individual officers in solving
the problems was noted and recorded; and the problems themselves,
as time went on and experience was gained, were made more and more
to conform to probable situations in future wars with Austria,
France, and other countries, actual maps being used, and the exact
nature and magnitude of every factor in each problem being precisely
stated.

By such work, the pupils (officers) acquired the same kind of skill
in solving strategic and tactical problems that a boy acquires in
solving problems in arithmetic--a skill in handling the instruments
employed. Now the skill acquired in solving any kind of problem,
like the skill developed in any art, such as baseball, fencing, or
piano-playing, does not give a man skill merely in doing a thing
identically like a thing he has done before: such a skill would
be useless, for the reason that identical conditions almost never
recur, and identical problems are never presented. Similar conditions
often recur, however, and similar problems are often presented;
and familiarity with any class of conditions or problems imparts
skill in meeting any condition or any problem that comes within
that class. If, for instance, a man memorizes the sums made by
adding together any two of the digits, he is equipped to master
any problem of addition; and if he will practise at adding numbers
together, he will gradually acquire a certain ability of mind whereby
he can add together a long row of figures placed in a sequence
he never saw before, and having a sum he never attained before.
Or a pianist, having acquired the mastery of the technic of the
keyboard and the ability to read music, can sit down before a piano
he never sat at before and play off instantly a piece of music he
never saw before.

Doubtless Moltke had ideas of this kind in mind when his plans
for educating strategists and tacticians by problems on paper and
by games were ridiculed by the unimaginative, and resisted by the
indolent; and certainly no man was ever proved right more gloriously
than Moltke. In the war with Austria in 1866, the Prussian army
defeated the Austrian at Sadowa or Königgrätz in nineteen days after
the declaration of war. In the war with France in 1870, the Prussian
army routed the French and received the surrender of Napoleon III
in seven weeks and two days, not because of superior courage or
experience in war, but by more scientific strategy. As Henderson
says: "Even the French generals of divisions and brigades had had
more actual experience (in war) than those who led the German army
corps. Compared with the German rank and file, a great part of
their non-commissioned officers and men were veterans, and veterans
who had seen much service. Their chief officers were practically
familiar with the methods of moving, supplying, and maneuvering
large masses of troops; their marshals were valiant and successful
soldiers. And yet the history of modern warfare records no defeats
so swift and complete as those of Königgrätz and Sedan. The great
host of Austria was shattered in seven weeks; the French Imperial
army was destroyed in seven weeks and three days; and to all intents
and purposes the resistance they had offered was not much more
effective than that of a respectable militia. But both the Austrian
and the French armies were organized and trained under the old
system. Courage, experience, and professional pride they possessed
in abundance. Man for man, in all virile qualities, neither officers
nor men were inferior to their foes. But one thing their generals
lacked, and that was education for war. Strategy was almost a sealed
book to them." Also, "Moltke committed no mistake. Long before war
had been declared every possible precaution had been made. And
these included much more than arrangements for rapid mobilization,
the assembly of superior numbers completely organized, and the
establishment of magazines. The enemy's numbers, armaments, readiness,
and efficiency had been submitted to a most searching examination.
Every possible movement that might be made, however unlikely, had
been foreseen; every possible danger that might arise, however
remote, discussed and guarded against"; also, "That the Prussian
system should be imitated, and her army deprived of its monopoly
of high efficiency, was naturally inevitable. Every European state
has to-day its college, its intelligence department, its schools of
instruction, and its course of field maneuvers and field firing."

Strategy may be divided into two parts, war strategy and preparation
strategy; and of these two, preparation strategy is by far the
more important.

War strategy deals with the laying out of plans of campaign after
war has begun, and the handling of forces until they come into
contact with the enemy, when tactics takes those forces in its
charge. It deals with actual situations, arranges for the provisioning,
fuelling, and moving of actual forces, contests the field against an
actual enemy, the size and power of which are fairly well known--and
the intentions of which are sometimes known and sometimes not.
The work of the strategist in war is arduous, pressing, definite,
and exciting; and results are apt to follow decisions quickly.
He plays the greatest and oldest game the world has ever known,
with the most elaborate instruments, and for the largest stakes.
In most wars, the antagonists have been so nearly equal in point
of personnel and material that the result has seemed to be decided
by the relative degrees of skill of the strategists on both sides.
This has been the verdict of history; and victorious commanders
in all times and in all lands have achieved rarer glories, and
been crowned with higher honors, than any other men.

Preparation strategy deals with the laying out of plans for
supposititious wars and the handling of supposititious forces against
supposititious enemies; and arranges for the construction, equipment,
mobilization, provisioning, fuelling, and moving of supposititious
fleets and armies. War strategy is vivid, stimulating and resultful;
preparation strategy is dull, plodding, and--for the strategist
himself--apparently resultless. Yet war strategy is merely the
child of preparation strategy. The weapons that war strategy uses,
preparation strategy put into its hands. The fundamental plans, the
strength and composition of the forces, the training of officers
and men, the collection of the necessary material of all kinds,
the arrangements for supplies and munitions of all sorts--the very
principles on which war strategy conducts its operations--are the
fruit of the tedious work of preparation strategy. Alexander reaps
the benefit of the preliminary labors of his father, Philip; William
is made German Emperor by the toil of Moltke.

The work of laying out a supposititious campaign, involving
supposititious operations against a supposititious enemy, requires
of the strategist a thorough estimate of the situation, including
a careful estimate of the forces of the enemy, in material and
personnel, and of the strategy that will probably govern his
operations--whether he will act on the defensive, or assume the
offensive; if he is to act on the defensive, how and where will he
base his forces, how far will he operate away from his own shores? And
if he is to act on the offensive, what direction will his operations
take; will he secure an advance base; and if so, where? And as the
character of the enemy's operations will depend on the personnel
of the enemy General Staff and of the high commanders afloat, who
comprise the personnel, and what are their characteristics?

To decide these questions correctly requires considerable acquaintance
with the enemy country, its navy and its policy, a full knowledge
of the strategy, personnel, and material of that navy, and a sound
conception of strategy itself. But to decide the questions correctly
is essential, because the decision will form the basis of the future
plans.

Naturally, as the plan is entirely supposititious and is to take
effect at some indefinite time in the future, all the factors that
will be in existence at that time cannot be foretold exactly, and
therefore must be estimated. This will necessitate several alternate
hypotheses; and a war plan including mobilization and operations
must be made out, based on each hypothesis. For instance, on the
hypothesis that the enemy will take the offensive, one set of plans
will have to be prepared on the basis that we shall also take the
offensive, and another on the basis that circumstances may be such at
that time as to make it wise for us to resort to the defensive; while
on the hypothesis that the enemy is to remain on the defensive, a set
of plans very different from the other two as to both mobilization
and operations must be devised.

Each set of the plans just suggested may also have to be divided
into two or more parts. On the basis that the enemy will remain
on the defensive, for instance, the circumstances when the hour
for action comes, such as the fact of his being quite unprepared,
may indicate the advisability of an attack on him as sudden as it
can be made; while, on the other hand, circumstances such as the
fact of his being thoroughly prepared may render it necessary for
us to send a larger force than we could get ready quickly, especially
if the enemy coast be far away, and may therefore indicate the
advisability of deliberate movements, and even a protracted delay
before starting.

But no matter what plan is to be followed, a detailed plan for every
probable contingency must be prepared; and it must be elaborated
in such detail that it can be put into operation instantly when
the fateful instant comes; because the enemy will put his plans
into operation at the same time we do, and the one whose plans
are executed first will take a long step toward victory.

Not only must the plans provide some means whereby the plans themselves
shall get into full operation instantly when war breaks; other plans
must also provide that all the acts which those plans contemplate
must be performed. Not only must the plans provide that all the
prearranged orders for putting the _Kearsarge_ into full commission
shall be instantly sent by mail, telegraph, and telephone to the
proper officials, but other plans must also provide means whereby
the officers and men shall actually march on board the _Kearsarge_,
her ensign and commission pennant be displayed, all the fuel,
ammunition, provisions, and equipment be on board and the _Kearsarge_
sail at once, and join the commander-in-chief at sea.

Doubtless the most complicated and comprehensive plans are those for
sending a large expedition on an offensive mission to a far-distant
coast, especially if that coast be guarded by an efficient navy,
if it have outlying islands that would afford good bases for her
destroyers and submarines, and if there are not good harbors which
our fleet could seize as advance bases, from which to prosecute
its future operations. The complexity of the task of planning such
an expedition, taking due account, but not exaggerated account,
of all the factors, favorable and adverse, is appalling; but the
task must be undertaken and accomplished. The most tedious part
is the logistics--the arrangements for supplying the fleet on the
way and in the distant theatre of operations with the necessary
provisions, equipment, and ammunition and, above all, the fuel.
The average superdreadnaught consumes about 460 tons of coal per
day at full speed, and about 108 tons at 10 knots; and coal or
other fuel for all the dreadnaughts, battle cruisers, cruisers of
various classes, scouts, destroyers, submarines, ships, aircraft
of different kinds, hospital ships, ammunition ships, transports,
and the fuel ships themselves, must be provided by means that _must
not fail_.

While the work of planning an offensive movement to a distant coast
is the most tedious and complex, the work of planning a defensive
measure against a sudden attack on the coast needs the most
concentration of effort; for whatever the plans require to be done
must be done at once. This necessitates that the orders to be issued
must be as few as possible; that they be as concise and clear as
possible; that the things to be done be as few and as simple as
possible, and that all possible foresight be exercised to prevent
any confusion or misunderstanding, or any necessity on the part
of any one for requesting more instructions.

When the fateful instant comes, the final command to mobilize puts
into execution whichever of the plans already made is to be followed;
and for this reason it is clear that the various plans must be
kept separate from each other, and each set of plans must include
all the various orders that must be signed for carrying it into
effect, including the particular word or phrase that directs the
execution of that particular set of plans.

It is the story that the final order to the British navy in the
early part of August, 1914, was the word "Go." All the units went
immediately, understandingly, unitedly; and the greatest machine
the world has ever known was almost instantly in operation at full
speed. No such stupendous feat, physically considered, had ever
been done before. The mobilization of the Prussian army in 1870 and
of the German army about August 1, 1914, were as great performances
mentally and strategically, but not physically, by reason of the
relative feebleness of the forces set in motion. This relative
feebleness was due, of course, to the insignificance of muskets
compared to navy guns, of railway-trains compared to battleships,
etc.--an insignificance far from being neutralized by the greater
number of the units, for one 14-inch shell has an energy equal
to that of about 60,000 muskets, and no army contains anything
approximating the powerfulness of a battleship.

Not only, however, must the strategist make plans in peace for
preparations that culminate in mobilization, and simply insure
that the navy shall be ready in material and personnel when war
breaks; he must also make plans for operating the navy strategically
afterward, along each of the various lines of direction that the
war may take. In other words, the work of preparation strategy
in making war plans may be divided into two parts--mobilization
and operation.

The plans of mobilization deal naturally with all the activities
concerned, material and personnel, and endeavor to arrange a passing
from a state of peace to a state of war in the quickest possible time,
and with the least chance of errors and omissions. A considerable
degree of imagination is required, an almost infinite patience, and
a perfect willingness to work indefinitely without any reasonable
expectation of getting tangible results. A more hopeless task can
hardly be given any man or body of men than that of working out
plans, general and detailed, day after day, for contingencies that
will probably never happen, and to guard against dangers that will
probably never come; preparing tables, diagrams, and schedules
which are almost certainly doomed to rest forever in the sepulchre
of the confidential files.

Yet this work is basic. Perhaps it is for that reason, that it is
obscure and dull; basic work is apt to be so. The spectacular success
of an individual in any walk of life is often but the crowning of
the unrecognized, and often utterly unknown work--of other men.

Strategy is not a science only; it is an art as well; and although
the art cannot be practised in its perfection until after the science
is well comprehended, yet the art of strategy was born before the
science was. This is true of all those departments of man's activity
that are divided into sciences and arts, such as music, surgery,
government, navigation, gunnery, painting, sculpture, and the rest;
because the fundamental facts--say of music--cannot even attract
attention until some music has been produced by the art of some
musician, crude though that art may be; and the art cannot advance
very far until scientific methods have been applied, and the principles
that govern the production of good music have been found. The unskilled
navigators of the distant past pushed their frail craft only short
distances from the land, guided by art and not by science; for no
science of navigation then existed. But the knowledge gradually gained,
passing first from adept to pupil by word of mouth, and afterward
recorded on the written and then the printed page, resulted first
in the realization of the fact that various apparently unrelated
phenomena were based on the same underlying principles; and resulted
later in the perception, and still later in the definite expression,
of those underlying principles. Using these principles, the navigator
expanded the limits of his art. Soon we see Columbus, superbly bold,
crossing the unknown ocean; and Magellan piercing the southern
tip of the American continent by the straits that now bear his
name.

But of all the arts and sciences, the art and science that are
the oldest and the most important; that have caused the greatest
expenditure of labor, blood, and money; that have been the immediate
instruments of more changes and greater changes in the history of
the world than any other, are the art and the science of strategy.

Until the time of Moltke the art of strategy, like most arts, was
more in evidence than the science. In fact, science of any kind is
a comparatively recent product, owing largely to the more exact
operations of the mind brought about by the birth of the science of
measurement, and the ensuing birth and development of the mechanic
arts. Before Moltke's time campaigns were won by wise preparation and
skilful execution, as they are now; but the strategical skill was
acquired by a general or admiral almost wholly by his own exertions
in war, and by studying the campaigns of the great commanders,
and reflecting upon them with an intensity that so embedded their
lessons in his subjective mind that they became a part of him, and
actions in conformity with those lessons became afterward almost
automatic. Alexander and Napoleon are perhaps the best illustrations
of this passionate grasping of military principles; for though
both had been educated from childhood in military matters, the
science of strategy was almost non-existent in concrete form, and
both men were far too young to have been able to devote much time
or labor to it. But each was a genius of the highest type, and
reached decisions at once immediate and wise, not by inspiration,
but by mental efforts of a pertinacity and concentratedness impossible
to ordinary men.

It was because Von Moltke realized this, realized the folly of
depending on ability to get geniuses on demand, and realized further
the value of ascertaining the principles of strategy, and then
expressing them so clearly that ordinary men could grasp and use
them, that he conceived and carried into execution his plan; whereby
not only actual battles could be analyzed, and the causes of victory
and defeat in each battle laid bare to students, but also hypothetical
wars and battles could be fought by means of problems given.

The first result of a course of study of such wars and battles, and
practice with such problems, was a skill in decision a little like
that developed in any competitive game, say tennis, whist, chess,
poker, boxing, and the like--whereby any action of your adversary
brings an instantaneous and almost automatic reply from you, that you
could not have made so skilfully and quickly before you had practised
at the game; and yet the exact move of your adversary, under the
same conditions, you had never seen before. Of course, this skill
was a development, not of the science, but of the art, as mere skill
always is; but as skill developed, the best methods for obtaining
skill were noted; and the principles governing the attainment of
success gradually unveiled themselves, and were formulated into
a science.

Naturally, strategy is not an exact science like mathematics, physics,
or engineering--at least not now. Whether it ever will be cannot be
foretold. The reason that strategy (like medicine and most other
sciences concerning human beings) is not an exact science is simply
because it involves too many unknown quantities--quantities of
which our knowledge is too vague to permit of our applying exact
methods to them, in the way in which we apply exact methods to the
comparatively well-known quantities and elements in the so-called
"exact sciences." But a science may be a science even if it is
not an exact science; we may know certain important principles
sufficiently well to use them scientifically, even if we do not
know them with sufficient exactness to permit us to use them as
confidently as we should like. We may know, for instance, that it
is folly to divide a military force in the presence of an active
enemy into such small forces, and at such distances apart, as to
let the enemy defeat each small force, one after the other, even
if we do not know exactly how far it would be safe to separate
two forces of a given size, in the presence of an enemy of a given
power. It is well to know a fact in general terms, even if we do
not know it in precise terms: it is well to know in general terms
that we must not take prussic acid, even if we do not know exactly
how much is needed to kill.

So the studies and problems instituted by Von Moltke, and copied
in all the armies and navies of the world, have brought about a
science of strategy which is real, even though not exact, and which
dwells in the mind of each trained strategist, as the high tribunal
to which all his questions are referred and by whose decisions he
is guided; just as the principles of medicine are the guide alike
of the humblest and the most illustrious practitioner, wherever
the beneficent art of medicine is practised.

It is clear that, in order to be skilful in strategy (in fact,
in any intellectual art), not only must a man have its scientific
principles firmly imprinted on his mind, but he must make its practice
so thoroughly familiar to his mental muscles that he can use strategy
as a _trained_ soldier uses his musket--automatically. Inasmuch as
any man requires years of study and practice--say, of chess--in
order to play chess well enough to compete successfully with
professional chess-players, it seems to follow that any man must
require years of study and practice of the more complicated game
of strategy, in order to play strategy well enough to compete
successfully with professional strategists. The game of chess looks
easy to a beginner; in fact, the kind of game that he thinks chess
to be is easy. But after he has learned the moves, he finds the
intricacies of the game developing more rapidly than he can master
them, and discovers that chess is a game which some men spend their
lifetime studying. The full realization of this fact, however, does
not come to him until after defeats by better players have forced
into his consciousness the almost infinite number of combinations
possible, the difficulty of deciding on the correct move at any
juncture, and the consequences that follow after wrong moves.

So with strategy. The ease and certainty with which orders can be
transmitted and received, the precision with which large forces
can be quickly despatched from place to place, and the tremendous
power exertable by those forces, tend to blind the mind to the
fact that transferring any force to any place is merely making a
"move," and that the other player can make moves, too. If a man
were never to be pitted in strategy against another player, either
in games or in actual war, the "infinite variety" of strategy would
never be disclosed to his intelligence; and after learning how
to make the moves, he might feel willing to tackle any one.
Illustrations of this tendency by people of great self-confidence
are numerous in history, and have not been missing even in the
present war, though none have been reported in this country as
occurring on the Teuton side. There has always been a tendency
on the part of a ruling class to seize opportunities for military
glory, and the ambition has often been disproportioned to the
accompanying ability and knowledge--sometimes on the part of a
King, prince, or man of high nobility, sometimes on the part of
a minister, sometimes on the part of an army or navy man, who has
been indebted to political or social influence for his place. But
within the past fifty years, especially since the establishment
of the General Staff in Prussia and the studies of Von Moltke,
the overshadowing importance of strategy has been understood, the
necessity of comprehending its principles and practising its technic
has been appreciated, and attempts to practise strategy by persons
inexpert in strategy have been deprecated.

The game of strategy, while resembling in many ways the game of
chess, differs from it, of course, in the obvious element of personal
danger. It also differs from it in an equally important but less
obvious way--its relation to the instruments employed; for in chess
those instruments (pieces) are of a number and character fixed by
the rules of the game; whereas in strategy the number and character
of the instruments (ships, etc.) employed are determined by strategy
itself, assisted by engineering. Germany realizes this, and therefore
has established and followed a system whereby the character of
the various material and personnel units of the navy, and even
the number of them (under the restrictions of the money alloted),
are decided by a body of men who are highly trained in strategy
and engineering.

There is an intimate connection between policy and strategy, and
therefore between naval policy and naval strategy; and while it
is difficult to draw the line exactly which separates policy and
strategy, it may be said in general that policy is the concern of
the government, and strategy is the concern of the navy and army,
to be employed by them to carry out the policy.

As naval policy and naval strategy are so intimately connected in
their essence, it is apparent that the naval policy of a country
and its naval strategy should be intimately connected in fact; for
the policy cannot be properly carried out if the strategy that tries
to execute it is not good, or if the policy requires more naval force
or skill than the navy can bring to bear; and the strategy cannot be
good if it is called upon to execute a policy impossible to execute,
or if the exact end in view of the policy is not distinctly known.
Some of the greatest mistakes that have been made by governments have
been made because of a lack of co-ordination between the government
and its navy, so that the policy and the strategy could not work
together. We see an illustration of this throughout the history
of France, whose civil and naval authorities have not worked
harmoniously together, whose naval strategy has apparently been
opportunistic and short-sighted, and whose navy in consequence
has not been so successful as the large sums of money spent upon
it might lead one to expect.

Across the English Channel we see a totally different state of
things. In Great Britain the development of the navy has been going
on for more than twelve hundred years, ever since King Offa declared
that "he who would be secure at home must be supreme at sea." For
about eight hundred years thereafter the development was carried
on energetically, but in an opportunistic fashion, following the
requirements of the hour. In 1632, however, the Board of Admiralty
was established; and with occasional interruptions, especially
prior to 1708, the board has continued in existence ever since.
A coherent policy of development has thereby been assured, and a
wisdom of strategy established which more than any other single
factor has made Great Britain the mistress of the seas, and almost
the mistress of the world.

The wisdom of her strategy has been due largely to the fact of
the close touch maintained between the civil government, including
Parliament, and the navy; for by its very constitution the Board
of Admiralty includes some of the highest officers of Parliament,
the cabinet, and the navy. Its presiding officer is a member of
the cabinet, and also member of Parliament; four of the officers
are naval officers, high in rank, character, and attainments; and
the junior civil lord is a civilian versed in naval matters. All
the orders for great movements of the fleets and ships are directed
by this board and signed by its secretary, the board, by a fiction
of the law, being considered an individual replacing the lord high
admiral--which it did, in 1632. The board is supposed to meet every
day with all the members present, the vote of each member carrying
as much weight as that of any other member. Naturally, the first
lord of the admiralty being a cabinet officer and a member of
Parliament, has a far greater influence on broad questions than
any other member; and the first sea lord being the person of the
most experience in naval matters, has the most weight on strictly
naval questions. Theoretically, however, neither of these gentlemen
can carry a measure opposed to the others; and any member, even
a junior, has equal opportunity with the others to bring up and
discuss any question and to attempt to procure its passage by the
full board; but in 1869 the first lord at that time, Mr. Childers,
brought about a change whereby the first lord was made personally
responsible to the government. This vastly increased the power
of the first lord, relatively to the others.

Two other navies, the German and the Japanese, which with the British,
are the most efficient navies in the world, have systems somewhat
different from the British. In Germany and Japan the Emperor is
the head of the navy, and there is no civilian between him and
it. In Germany there is no minister of marine, unless the Emperor
himself may be said to be the minister, which he practically is;
and the navy is divided into three parts, each under an admiral.
The three parts are the General Staff, which deals with war plans
and fundamental questions; the naval cabinet, which deals with
matters of personnel; and the administrative section, which has
to do with questions of material, including money, and the getting
of money from Parliament. In Japan the minister of marine is by
law a naval officer, and under him is a chief of staff, also a
naval officer. The minister of marine has the direction of the
navy as a whole, but the ideas of the chief of staff are supposed
to be carried out in matters that are strictly naval. The Japanese
naval officer has a higher regard for the office of chief of staff
than for that of minister of marine, because it is given for
professional excellence only.

It might seem at first sight that in Germany and Japan there would
be danger of a lack of co-ordination between the civil and the
naval authorities, and a tendency for the navy to become unduly
self-assertive. Of course, one reason why there is no such danger
is that the governments of those countries are controlled by men
who, though civilians, have great knowledge of international affairs,
and of military and naval subjects; another reason is that the navy
is so vital a matter, accurate knowledge about it is so general,
and interest in it so wide-spread and intense, that there is no
great gulf fixed between naval people and civilians. Still another
reason is the fact that in each country the Emperor is trained in
military and naval duties as well as in civil duties, and therefore
can effect in his own person the co-ordination of the civil and
the naval authority: that is, of policy and strategy.

Such automatic and complete co-ordination is desirable not only in
preventing the unnatural barrier between the civil and the military
authority which exists in some countries such as ours, but in lightening
the labors and enlightening the deliberations of the strategists.
If, for instance, a bold policy is to be enforced, and a large
sum of money allotted for material and personnel, the strategists
will be led to recommendations different from those to which they
would be led if a cautious policy were to be pursued, and a small
sum of money to be allotted.

Germany did not turn her eyes seriously toward the navy until the
Emperor William II read Mahan's book, "The Influence of Sea Power
upon History." Previous to that epochal event, Germany had relied
on her army to protect her interests and enforce her rights, being
led thereto by the facts of her history and the shortness of her
coast-line. But the strategically trained mind of William grasped
at once the situation laid bare by Mahan; and his military training
led him to quick decision and prompt action. The necessary machinery
was soon set in motion, with the amazing result that in twenty
years the German navy became the second in power and perhaps the
first in efficiency in the world.

Was this feat accomplished by prodigal expenditures in building vessels
and other material of all kinds, and enlisting and commissioning a
large number of officers and men? No, the expense was less than
that of building our navy, even if a liberal allowance be made for
the relative cheapness of things in Germany; and the mere enlisting
and commissioning of officers and men was the simplest part of the
undertaking.

How was it accomplished? In the simplest way imaginable: by following
Moltke's plan of solving hypothetical war problems, and adapting the
military war game (_Kriegspiel_) to naval forces; playing numberless
war games, and deciding from those games the naval strategy best
adapted to Germany's needs--not only in matters of general principle,
not only as to tactics, training, education, co-operation with the
army, and the size of fleet required to carry out the policy of
the nation--but also as to the composition of the fleet, relative
proportions of vessels of the various types, and the characteristics
of each type. Nothing was left to chance; nothing was decided by
guessing; no one man's dictum was accepted. The whole problem was
attacked in its entirety, and a general solution found; and after
this, the various divisions and subdivisions of the problem were
attacked and solved, in obedience to the same principles, in accordance
with the results obtained at _Kriegspiel_.

If a very large and complicated engine of new pattern is to be
built by any engineering company, no casting of the smallest kind
is made until general plans have been outlined, detailed plans
prepared from these, and then "working plans" made for the workmen.
From the working plans, the workmen construct the various parts;
sometimes in number several hundred. Finally, the whole intricate
machine is put together, and the motive power applied. Then all
the parts, great and small, begin their allotted tasks, each part
perfectly adapted to its work, not too large and not too small;
all working together in apparent confusion, but in obedience to
law--fulfilling exactly the will of the designing engineer. So,
the vast and new machine of the German navy was designed in the
drafting-room of the _Kriegspiel_; and though it has been gradually
strengthened and enlarged since then, each strengthening piece and
each addition has been designed in accordance with the original
plan, and has therefore harmonized with the original machine. Thus
the navy has expanded smoothly, symmetrically, purposefully. No
other result was to be expected: the strategy having been correct,
the result was correct also.

Perhaps one contributing factor to the success of the German navy
has been her staff of officers highly trained in strategy by
_Kriegspiel_, that insures not only sound advice in general, but
also insures that at any time, night or day, a body of competent
officers shall be ready at the admiralty to decide what action
should be taken, whenever any new situation is reported. This factor
is most important; because in naval and military operations, even
in time of peace, but especially in war, events follow each other
so rapidly, and momentous crises develop so suddenly, that the
demand for action that shall be both wise and instantaneous is
imperative. The chess-player can linger long over his decisions,
because his opponent cannot make his next move meanwhile; but in
warfare no such rule or condition can exist. In war, time is as
vital a factor as any other: and the strategist, who, like Napoleon,
can think faster and decide more quickly and accurately than his
antagonist is, _ceteris paribus_, sure to win; and even if _ceteris_
are not quite _paribus_, his superior quickness and correctness
will overcome great handicaps in material and personnel, as the
lives of all the great strategists in history, especially Alexander
and Napoleon, prove convincingly. To bring a preponderating force
to bear at a given point ahead of the enemy--to move the maximum
of force with the maximum of celerity--has always been the aim
of strategy: and probably it always will be, for the science of
strategy rests on principles, and principles never change.

Thus while we see in Great Britain's navy an example of the effect
of a strategy continuous and wise, conducted for three hundred years,
we see in the Japanese and German navies equally good examples of a
strategy equally wise, but of brief duration, which started with
the example of the British navy, and took advantage of it.

The German and Japanese navies did not follow the British navy
slavishly, however; for the national military character of their
people required the introduction and control of more military and
precise methods than those of the primarily sailor navy of Great
Britain. We see, therefore, a curious similarity between the German
and Japanese navies, and very clear evidence in each of the engrafting
of purely military ideals on maritime ideas. And we see not only
this, we see the reaction on the British navy itself of the ideals
of the German and the Japanese, and a decided change during the
last ten years from the principles of "the blue-water school";
as evidenced mainly by the institution of a Naval War College,
including a war staff, the employment at the admiralty of General
Staff methods, though without the name; and the introduction into
naval methods, especially naval gunnery, of mathematical procedures.

Previous to the Japanese-Russian War, ten years ago, the strategy
of the British navy may be characterized as physical rather than
mental, depending on a superior number of ships and men; those
ships and men being of a very high grade individually, and bound
together by a discipline at once strict and sympathetic. All the
personnel from the highest admiral to the humblest sailor prided
themselves on being "British seamen," comrades of the sea, on whom
their country placed her ultimate reliance. Maneuvers on a large
scale were held, target practice was carried on with regularity--and
navy ships carried the banner of Saint George over every sea, and
displayed it in every port. Tactics and seamanship filled the busy
days with drills of many kinds; but strategy, though not quite
forgotten, did not command so large a portion of the officers'
time and study as it did in Germany and Japan. The rapid success
of the Germans and Japanese, however, in building up their navies,
as instanced by the evident efficiency of the German fleet almost
under the nose of England, and the triumph of the Japanese fleet in
Tsushima Strait startled the British navy out of her conservatism,
and caused her to proceed at full speed toward the modernization
of her strategy. With the quick decision followed by quick action
that characterizes the seaman everywhere, the British instituted
a series of reforms, and prosecuted their efforts with such wisdom
and such vigor, that, in the brief space of ten years, the British
navy has been almost revolutionized. As in all such movements,
the principal delay was in bringing about the necessary mental
changes; the mental changes having been accomplished, the material
changes followed automatically.

The change whereby the German and Japanese navies became preceptors
to their preceptor is like changes that occur in every-day life, and
is one of many illustrations of how a young and vigorous individual
or organization, endowed with proper energy and mentality, can
appropriate whatever is valuable for its purposes from its elders,
and reject whatever those elders have had fastened on them by
circumstances or tradition, and develop a superior existence. It
is a little like the advantage which a comparatively new city like
Washington has over an old city like Boston, in being started after
it was planned, instead of being started haphazard, without being
planned at all.

The United States navy was started not like the city of Washington,
but like the city of Boston. It was modelled on the British navy;
but since the United States has never taken an interest in its
navy at all comparable with that taken by Great Britain in its
navy, and since our navy has been built up by successive impulses
from Congress and not in accordance with a basic plan, the lack of
harmoniousness among its various parts reminds one of Boston rather
than of Washington. Owing to the engineering and inventive genius of
our people and the information we got from Europe, inferiority has
not occurred in the units of the material: in fact, in some ways
our material is perhaps the best of all. Neither has inferiority
been evidenced in the personnel, as individuals; for the excellent
physique and the mental alertness of the American have shown themselves
in the navy as well as in other walks of life.

In strategy, however, it must be admitted that we have little reason
to be proud. We do very well in the elementary parts of the naval
profession. In navigation, seamanship, gunnery, and that part of
international law that concerns the navy we are as good as any.
But of the higher branches, especially of strategy, we have little
clear conception. How can we have? Strategy is one of the most
complex arts the world contains; the masters in that art have borne
such names as Alexander, Cæsar, Nelson, and Napoleon. Naval strategy
is naval chess, in which battleships and other craft take the place
of queens and other pieces. But it is a more complicated game than
chess, for the reason that not only are there more kinds of "pieces,"
but the element of time exerts a powerful influence in strategy while
it does not even exist in chess. The time element has the effect not
only of complicating every situation, but also of compelling intense
concentration of mind, in order to make decisions quickly; and often
it forces decisions without adequate time for consideration, under
circumstances of the utmost excitement, discomfort, and personal
peril.

One dislikes intensely to criticise his own country, even to himself.
But when a naval officer is studying--as he should continually do--what
must be done, in order to protect his country from attack by some
foreign foe, it would be criminal folly for him to estimate the
situation otherwise than honestly; and to do this, it is necessary
to try to see where his country is weak and where strong, relatively
to the possible foes in question. If we do this, and compare the
strategical methods employed by--say Germany and us--we are forced
to admit that the German methods are better adapted to producing
economically a navy fitted to contend successfully in war against
an enemy. In Germany the development of the navy has been strictly
along the lines of a method carefully devised beforehand; in our
country no method whatever is apparent, at least no logical method.
Congress, and Congress alone, decides what vessels and other craft
shall be built, how many officers and men shall wear the uniform.
It is true that they consult the report of the secretary of the
navy, and ask the opinions of some naval officers; and it is true
that the secretary of the navy gets the opinions of certain naval
officers including the General Board, before making his report.
But both the secretary and Congress estimate the situation from
their own points of view, and place their own value on the advice
of naval officers. And the advice of these naval officers is not
so valuable, possibly, as it might be; for the reason that it is
really irresponsible, since the advisers themselves know that it
will not be taken very seriously. The difference between the advice
of men held responsible for the results of following their advice,
and the advice of men not so held responsible, is well recognized,
and is discussed fully in the reports of the Moody and the Swift
Boards on the organization of the Navy Department. Furthermore,
our officers do not have the machinery of the _Kriegspiel_ to help
them. It is true that at the Naval War College, a war-game apparatus
is installed and that war games are played, and war problems solved;
but the officers there are very properly engaged in the regular
work of a war college, in educating officers in the principles
of warfare, and have little time for other work. It is also true
that the war games and problems there do lead occasionally to
recommendations by the War College to the General Board as to various
matters; but the connection between the conclusions of the War
College and the decisions of Congress via the General Board and
the secretary of the navy is so fragile and discontinuous, that
it may truthfully be said that the influence of the war games at
our War College has but a faint resemblance to the determining
force of the _Kriegspiel_ in Berlin.

It is often said that Germany is an empire and the United States
a republic, and that _therefore_ the military methods of Germany
cannot be employed here. The inference is not necessarily correct,
however, as is shown by the excellence of the army of France; for,
France, although a republic, insists that military strategy only
shall control and direct the army. The American Congress can do
the same with the American navy. Whether Congress shall so decide
or not, the decision will undoubtedly be wise; and we of the navy
will do our utmost to make the navy all it should be. In this
connection, it should be noted that:

1. Germany has been following a certain strategic system regarding
the navy; we a system different from that of any other navy, which
has been used now for about one hundred and forty years. Both systems
have been in operation for a time sufficiently long to warrant our
comparing them, by comparing the results they have achieved.

2. The German navy has been in existence a much shorter time than
the American navy, belongs to a much less populous and wealthy
country, and yet is not only about 30 per cent larger in material,
and more than 100 per cent larger in trained personnel, but if
we judge by maneuvers carried on in both peace and war, is much
better in organization, morale, and capacity for doing naval work
upon the ocean. We do not, of course, know what Germany has been
doing since the war began on August 1, 1914; but all accounts show
that Germany, like all the other belligerent Powers, has been adding
units of material and personnel to her navy much more rapidly than
they have been destroyed; as well as perfecting her strategy, under
the influence of the war's stimulus. Leaving out of consideration,
however, what she may have been doing since the war began, and
neglecting any unauthenticated accounts of her status before it
started, we know positively that in 1913 the maneuvers of the German
fleet were executed by a force of 21 battleships, 3 battle cruisers,
5 small cruisers, 6 flotillas of destroyers (that is 66 seagoing
torpedo vessels), 11 submarines, an airship, a number of aeroplanes
and special service ships, and 22 mine-sweepers--all in one fleet,
all under one admiral, and maneuvered as a unit. _This was nearly
three years ago, and we have never come anywhere near such a
performance_. In January, 1916, the United States Atlantic fleet,
capable as to both material and personnel of going to sea and
maneuvering together, consisted of 15 battleships and 23 destroyers,
2 mine-depot ships, and 1 mine-training ship, and 4 tugs fitted
as mine-sweepers--with no submarines, no aircraft of any kind, no
scouts (unless the _Chester_ be so considered, which was cruising
alone off the coast of Liberia, and the _Birmingham_, which was
flag-ship to the destroyer flotilla). This was the only fleet that
we had ready to fight in January, 1916; because, although more
battleships could have been put into commission, this could have
been done only by putting out of commission certain smaller vessels,
such as cruisers and gunboats; and the battleships would have had
to be put into commission very hurriedly, filled up with men fresh
from other ships, and no more ready to fight in the fleet against
an enemy (whose ships were fully manned with well-trained officers
and men, accustomed to the details of their respective ships, and
acquainted with each other) than the _Chesapeake_ was ready to
fight the _Shannon_.

3. In case our system is not so good as that of--say Germany--or
of any other country having a system equally excellent, we shall
_never_ be able to contend successfully against that navy, under
equal strategic conditions, unless we have an excess over her in
numbers of personnel and material sufficient to counteract our
inferiority in efficiency.

The efficiency of a navy or an army is exactly what the strategic
system makes it. Eleven thousand Greeks under Miltiades, highly
efficient and thoroughly trained, defeated 100,000 Persians at
Marathon. A Greek fleet under Themistocies defeated and almost
destroyed a much larger Persian fleet at Salamis. With an army
of less than 35,000 men, but highly trained by Philip of Macedon,
his father, Alexander, in only twelve years conquered ten of the
most wealthy and populous countries of the world. Cæsar, Alaric,
Attila, Charlemagne, and all the great military men from the greatest
antiquity down to the present moment have trained and organized
bodies of soldiers and sailors, under systems suited to the times,
and then waged successful war on peoples less militarily efficient.
Cortez conquered Mexico, and Pizarro conquered Peru; the British,
French, and Spanish subdued the Indians of North America, and during
the latter half of the nineteenth century nearly all the land in
the world that was "unoccupied" by Europeans or their descendants
was taken in possession by European Powers. Great Britain is now
mistress of about one-quarter of the land and the population of
the globe. Russia, France, Germany, and the United States govern
most of the remainder.

These results were brought about almost solely by the exercise
of military force:--and of this force, physical courage was not a
determining element, because it was just as evident in the conquered
as in the conquerors. The determining element was strategy that
(under the behest of policy) prepared the military and naval forces
in material and personnel before they were used, and directed their
operations, while they were being used.

Of all the single factors that have actually and directly made the
history of the world, the most important factor has been strategy.




CHAPTER VIII

DESIGNING THE MACHINE

The most important element connected with a navy is the strategy which
directs it, in accordance with which all its plans are laid--plans for
preparation before war and plans for operations during war. Strategy
is to a navy what mind is to a man. It determines its character,
its composition, its aims; and so far as external conditions will
permit, the results which it accomplishes.

It is possible for certain features connected with a navy to be
good, even if the strategy directing it be faulty; or for those
features to be faulty, even if the strategy directing it be good.
Experience has shown, however, that, in any organization the influence
of the men at the top, and the effect of the policy they adopt, is
so great that the whole organization will in the main be good or
bad according to the kind of men that control it, and the methods
they employ. The better the discipline of the organization, the more
completely the quality of the management will influence the whole,
and the more essential it becomes that good methods be employed. Good
discipline means concentration of the effort of the organization;
and the more concentrated any effort is, the more necessary that
it be directed aright. The simplest illustration of this is seen
in naval gunnery; for there the effect of good fire-control is
to limit the dispersion of the various shots fired, relatively
to each other; to make a number of shots fired simultaneously to
bunch closely together, that is to concentrate; getting away from
the shotgun effect, and approximating the effect of a single shot.
Obviously, if the fire-control and the skill of the gunners are
so great that the shots fall very close together, the chance of
hitting the target is less than if the shots did not fall close
together, if the range at which the guns are fired is incorrect.
A mathematical formula showing the most effective dispersion for
a given error in range was published in the _Naval Institute_ by
Lieutenant-Commander B. A. Long, U. S. N., in December, 1912.

So, we see that if the strategy directing a navy is incorrect,
we can accomplish little by improving the discipline, and may do
harm; when unwise orders have been given in the past, those orders
have sometimes been disobeyed with beneficial effect. Neither would
it avail much to improve the details of the material or personnel,
or to spend much money; for there is no benefit to be derived from
building fine ships, if they are to be captured by the enemy. If
the Russian fleet sent to Tsushima had been weaker than it was,
the loss to Russia would have been less.

Inasmuch as strategy, however, includes all the means taken to make
a navy effective, it is obvious that a good strategical direction
will be more likely to result in good discipline and good material
than would a poor strategy. But this is not necessarily so, for
the reason that a strategy may be in the main faulty, and yet be
good in certain ways--especially in attention to details, for which
a high degree of mentality is not required. In the same way, an
individual who is short-sighted and imperfectly educated may be
a most excellent and useful member of society, provided he is not
permitted to use power in matters beyond his vision. An illustration
of how an incorrect point of view does not necessarily injure, but
may even benefit in details is shown by certain militia regiments,
which are able to surpass some regiments of the regular army in
many details of the drill, and in general precision of movement.

In fact, a very wise strategical direction has as one of its most
important functions the division of study and labor among various
lines of action, and in deciding which lines are important and
which not: and for this reason may--and often does--limit labor,
and therefore perfection of result, along lines which a less wise
strategy would not limit. Illustrations of the casting aside of
rigid and difficult forms of drill during the past fifty years in
armies, and the substitution of more easy methods are numerous. This
does not indicate, however, that a wise strategy may not encourage
rigid forms of drill, for the army which is directed with the greatest
strategical skill is the German, and no army has more precise methods,
not only of procedure, but of drill. The Prussian army of Frederick
William which Frederick the Great inherited was not more rigidly
drilled in some particulars than the German army of to-day, fought
by Frederick the Great's great-great-great-grandnephew, William
II.

So we see that a wise and far-sighted strategy does not necessarily
either frown on or encourage attention to details; it merely regulates
it, deciding in each case and for each purpose what degree of attention
to detail is best.

The most obvious work of naval strategy, and therefore the work
that impresses people most, is in directing naval forces against
an enemy in war. But it is clear that before this can be done
effectively strategy must first have made plans of preparation
in time of peace; and it is equally clear that, previous to this,
strategy must first determine the units of the force and their
relation to each other: it must, in other words, design the machine.

Evidently, therefore, _the work of strategy is three-fold: first,
to design the machine; second, to prepare it for war; and, third,
to direct its operations during war_.

A navy being a machine composed of human and material parts, it is
clear that the work of designing it correctly should take account
of all the parts at the outset; and not only this--the whole design
should be completed before any parts are made and put together
if the best results are to be obtained. This is the practice in
making material machines in manufacturing establishments--and no
other practice there could be successfully pursued. It is the outcome
of the experience of tens of thousands of men for many years--and
the result of the expenditure of tons of money.

This remark as to manufacturing establishments does not include
the development of new ideas, for which experimentation or original
research is needed; because it is sometimes necessary, when venturing
into untrodden fields, to test out by mere trial and error certain
parts or features before determining enough of their details to
warrant incorporating them in the drawing of the whole machine.
Similarly, some experiments must be made in the methods, organization,
and material of the naval machine; but in this, case, as in the
case of manufacturing establishments, the experimental work, no
matter how promising or alluring, must be recognized as of unproved
and doubtful value; and no scheme, plan, or doctrine must be
incorporated in the naval machine, or allowed to pose as otherwise
than experimental, until successful trials shall have put it beyond
the experimental stage.

The naval machine consists obviously of two parts, the personnel
and the material; these two parts being independent, and yet mutually
dependent, like the parts of any other organism. Obviously, the
parts are mutually dependent not only in the quantitative sense
that the more numerous the material parts the more numerous must
be the personnel to operate them, but also in the qualitative sense
that the various kinds of material determine the various kinds
of personnel that must be provided to operate them with success.
Gunners are needed to handle guns, and engineers to handle engines.

In this respect, personnel follows material. In the galley days only
two kinds of personnel were needed--sailors to handle the galleys
(most of these being men merely to pull on oars)--and soldiers to
fight, when the galleys got alongside of the enemy. Ship organization
remained in a condition of great simplicity until our Civil War; for
the main effort was to handle the ships by means of their sails,
the handling of the simple battery being a very easy matter. Every
ship was much like every other ship, except in size; and in every
ship the organization was simple and based mostly on the necessities
of handling the ship by sails.

The first important change from this condition followed the departure
of the Confederate ironclad _Virginia_ (_Merrimac_) carrying 10
guns and 300 men from the Norfolk Navy Yard on the 8th of March,
1862, and her sinking hardly two hours afterward the Union sloop of
war _Cumberland_, carrying 24 guns and 376 men; and then destroying
by fire the Union frigate _Congress_, carrying 50 guns and 434 men.
The second step was taken on the following day, when the Union
_Monitor_, 2 guns and 49 men, defeated the _Merrimac_. These two
actions on two successive days are the most memorable naval actions
in history from the standpoint of naval construction and naval
ordnance, and perhaps of naval strategy; because they instituted
a new era--the era of mechanism in naval war.

The next step was the successful attack by the Confederate "fish-torpedo
boat" _David_, on the Union ironclad _Housatonic_ in Charleston
harbor on February 17, 1864; and the next was the sinking of the
Confederate ironclad _Albemarle_ by a spar torpedo carried on a
little steam-launch commanded by Lieutenant W. B. Cushing, U. S.
N., on October 27, 1864.

These four epochal events in our Civil War demonstrated the
possibilities of mechanism in naval warfare, and led the way to
the use of the highly specialized and scientific instruments that
have played so important a part in the present war. During the
half-century that has intervened since the _Monitor_ and _Merrimac_
ushered in the modern era, since the five brave crews of the _David_
lost their lives, and since Cushing made his amazing victory, a
contest between the sailor and the scientist has been going on,
as to which shall be deemed the ultimate master of the sea. As in
many contests, the decision has gone unqualifiedly to neither; for
he who sails the sea and braves its tempests, must be in heart and
character a sailor--and yet he who fights the scientific war-craft of
the present day cannot be merely a sailor, like him of the olden kind,
but must be what the _New York Times_, a few years ago, laughingly
declared to be a combination quite unthinkable, "a scientific person
and a sailor."

Each year since the fateful 8th of March, 1862, has seen some addition
to the fighting machinery of navies. Some appliances have been
developed gradually from their first beginnings, and are to-day
substantially what they were at first--but of course improved; among
these are the turret, the automobile torpedo, the telescope-sight,
the submarine, and the gyrocompass. Many other appliances found
favor for a while and then, having demonstrated the value of what
they attempted and did perform, were gradually supplemented by
improved devices, doing the same thing, but in better ways; in
this class are many forms of interior-communication apparatus,
especially electrical. Still other appliances are adaptations to
ship and naval life of devices used in civil life--such as the
telephone, electric light, and radio.

Each of these appliances has required for its successful use the
educating of men to use it, and frequently the creation and organization
of entirely new branches of the service; an illustration is the radio
corps in each of our large ships. At the present time the attitude
of officers and of the department itself is so much more favorable
to new appliances that a clear probability of a new device being
valuable is a sufficient stimulus to bring about the education
of men to use it; but a very few years ago many devices were lost
to us because they were considered "not adapted naval use." Now
we endeavor to adapt them.

The present complexity of our material is therefore reflected in
the complexity of the organization of our personnel; and as it
is the demands of material that regulate the kind of personnel,
and as a machine must be designed and built before men can learn
to use it, it follows that our personnel must lag behind our
material--that our material as material must be better than our
personnel as personnel.

It may be answered that all our material is first invented, then
designed, and then constructed by men; that men create our material
appliances (though not the matter of which they are composed), that
the created cannot be better than the creator; and that therefore
it is impossible for our material to be better than our personnel.
But to this objection it may be pointed out that only a very small
proportion of our personnel are employed in creating; that most
of them are engaged merely in using the material with whatever
degree of skill they possess, and that, if a man uses an instrument
with perfect skill, he then succeeds merely in getting out of that
instrument all that there is in it. A soldier's musket, for instance,
is a very perfect tool--very accurate, very powerful, very rapid;
and no marksman in the world is so skilful that he can shoot the
musket with all the accuracy and speed of which the gun itself
is capable.

This indicates that the personnel of a navy is harder to handle
than the material, and that therefore the most effort is required
to be expended on the personnel. The strength of any system depends
on the strength of its weakest part; in any organism, human or
material, effort is best expended on the weak points rather than
on the strong.

Recognition of this principle is easy, but carrying out the principle
in practice is most difficult. One reason is the difficulty of
seeing always where the weak spot is; but a greater difficulty is
due to the fact that the principle as above stated must be modified
by the consideration that things which are important need attention
more than things that are unimportant. A weak point in any organism
deserves attention more than a strong point of the same order of
importance, or than a strong point in the same class; but not,
necessarily more than a strong point of a higher order of importance,
or a strong point in another class. It may be more beneficial,
for instance, to drill an ineffective turret crew than to try to
reduce friction in a training gear already nearly frictionless;
or it may be more beneficial to overcome the faults of a mediocre
gun-pointer than to develop still more highly the skill already
great of another gun-pointer; but, on the other hand, it may be
less beneficial to drill boat crews at boat-sailing, even if they
need it, than to drill them at landing as armed forces on the beach,
though they may do that pretty well; or it may be better not to
have boat drill at all and to get under way for fleet drill, even
though the ships are very expert at it.

It is true that in any endeavor where many things are to be done,
as in a navy, it is important that nothing be neglected; and yet,
under the superintendence of any one, there are some things the
doing of which requires priority over other things. The allotting
of the scientifically correct amount of time, energy, and attention
to each of the various things claiming one's attention is one of
the most difficult, and yet one of the most important problems
before any man. It requires an accurate sense of proportion.

Naturally the problem increases in complexity and importance the
higher the position, and the greater the number of elements
involved--being more difficult and important for instance in the
office of the commander-in-chief of a fleet, whose time and attention
have to be divided among multitudinous matters, than in that of
captain of a single ship. For this reason, _the higher one is in
position, the more imperative it is that he understand all elements
involved, and estimate properly their various weights_. The success
or non-success of a man in high authority depends largely on how
his sense of proportion leads him to allot his time.

But a matter fully as important as the allotment of time and attention
to the consideration of various matters by the various members of
the personnel is the allotment of money for the various items,
especially of the material; for, after all, every navy department
or admiralty must arrange its demands for ships, guns, men, etc.,
with reference to the total amount of money which the nation will
allot. For this purpose, only one good means of solution has thus
far been devised--the game-board.

The game-board, naturally, tries out only the units that maneuver
on the ocean; it does not try out the mechanism inside those units,
because they can be tried out best by engineering methods. The
province of the game-board is merely to try out on a very small
scale, under proper conventions or agreements, things that could not
be tried out otherwise, except at great expense, and very slowly;
to afford a medium, half-way between actual trials with big ships
and mere unaided reasoning, for arriving at correct conclusions.
When the game-board is not used, people conferring on naval problems
can do so only by forming pictures in their own minds, endeavoring
to describe those pictures to the others (in which endeavor they
rarely perfectly succeed) while at the same time, trying to see the
pictures that are in the minds of the others--and then comparing
all the pictures. The difficulty of doing this is shown by a little
paragraph in "The Autocrat of the Breakfast Table," in which Dr.
Holmes points out that when John and Thomas are talking, there
are really six persons present--the real John, the person John
thinks himself to be, the person Thomas thinks him to be, the real
Thomas, the person Thomas thinks himself to be, and the person John
thinks him to be. The conditions surrounding John and Thomas are
those of the simplest kind, and the conversation between them of
the most uncomplicated character. But when--not two people but--say
a dozen or more, are considering highly complicated questions, such
as the House Naval Committee discuss when officers are called to
testify before them, no two of the twenty congressmen can form the
same mental picture when an officer uses the word--say "fleet."
The reason is simply that very few of the congressmen hearing that
word have ever seen a fleet; none of them know exactly what it is,
and every one forms a picture which is partly the result of all
his previous education and experience; which are different from
the previous education and experience of every other congressman
on the committee. Furthermore, no one of the officers uses words
exactly as the other officers do; and the English language is too
vague (or rather the usual interpretation put on words is too vague)
to assure us that even ordinary words are mutually understood. For
instance, the question is asked: "Do you consider it probable that
such or such a thing would happen?" Now what does the questioner
mean by "probable," and what does the officer think he means?
Mathematically, the meaning of "probable" is that there is more
than 50 per cent of chance that the thing would happen; but who
in ordinary conversation uses that word in that way? That this is
not an academic point is shown by the fact that if the answer is
"no" the usual inference from the answer is that there is no need
for guarding against the contingency. Yet such an inference, if
the word "probable" were used correctly by both the questioner and
the answerer, would be utterly unjustified, because the necessity
for taking precautions against a danger depends not so much on its
probability or improbability, as on the degree of its probability;
and to an equal degree on the greatness of the danger that impends.
If the occurrence of a small mishap has a probability say of even
75 per cent, there may be little necessity of guarding against
it; while if the danger of total destruction has a probability
as low as even 1 per cent, we should guard against it sedulously.

The more complicated the question, the more elements involved, the
more difficult it is to settle it wisely by mere discussion. The
effort of the imagination of each person must be directed not so
much to getting a correct mental picture of what the words employed
describe, as to getting a correct picture of what the person using
the words desires them to describe. Any person who has had experience
in discussions of this character knows what an effort this is, even
if he is talking with persons whom he has known for years, and
with whose mental and lingual characteristics he is well acquainted:
and he also knows how much more difficult it is when he is talking
with persons whom he knows but slightly.

It may here be pointed out how greatly the imaginations of men
differ, and how little account is taken of this difference in every-day
life. In poetry and fiction imagination is recognized; and it is
also recognized to some extent in painting, inventing, and, in
general, in "the arts." But in ordinary life, the difference among
men in imagination is almost never noticed. Yet a French proverb
is "point d'imagination, point de grand general"; and Napoleon
indicated a danger from untrained imagination in his celebrated
warning to his generals not to make "pictures" to themselves of
difficulties and disasters.

The difference in imagination among men is shown clearly by the
difference--and often the differences--between inventors and engineers,
and the scarcity of men who are both inventors and engineers. Ericsson
repudiated the suggestion that he was an inventor, and stoutly and
always declared he was an engineer. This was at a time, not very
long ago, when it was hardly respectable to be an inventor; when,
even though men admitted that some inventors had done valuable work,
the work was supposed to be largely a chance shot of a more or less
crazy man. Yet Ericsson was an inventor--though he was an engineer.
So were Sir William Thompson (afterward Lord Kelvin), Helmholtz,
Westinghouse, and a very few others; so are Edison and Sperry.
Many inventors, however, live in their imaginations mainly--some
almost wholly. Like Pegasus, they do not like to be fastened to a
plough or anything else material. Facts, figures, and blue-prints
fill their souls with loathing, and bright generalities delight them.
The engineer, on the other hand, is a man of brass and iron and
logarithms; in imagination he is blind, in flexibility he resembles
reinforced concrete. He is the antipodes of the inventor; he despises
the inventor, and the inventor hates him. Fortunately, however,
there is a little bit of the inventor in most engineers, and a
trace of the engineer in most inventors; while in some inventors
there is a good deal of the engineer. And once in a while we meet
a man who carries both natures in his brain. That man does marvels.

Despite the great gulf normally fixed, however, between the engineer
and the inventor, most of the definite progress of the world for
the past one hundred years has been done by the co-ordination of
the two; a co-ordination accomplished by "the man of business."

Now the inventor and engineer type do not exist only in the world
of engineering and mechanics, though it is in that world that they
are the most clearly recognized; for they exist in all walks of
life. In literature, inventors write novels; in business life,
they project railroads; in strategy, they map out new lines of
effort. In literature, the engineer writes cyclopædias; in business,
he makes the projected railroads a success; in strategy, he works
out logistics and does the quantitative work.

In that part of strategy of which we are now thinking--the designing
of the naval machine--the inventor and the engineer clearly have
two separate lines of work: one line the conceiving, and the other
line the constructing, of strategic and tactical methods, and of
material instruments to carry out those methods. Clearly, these
two lines of work while independent are mutually dependent; and,
if properly carried out are mutually assistant. The coworking of
the inventor and the engineer is a little like that coworking of
theory and practice, which has been the principal factor in bringing
about the present amazing condition of human society commonly called
"Modern Civilization."

The shortcomings of human speech are most evident in discussing
complicated matters; and for this reason speech is supplemented
in the engineering arts by drawings of different kinds. No man
ever lived who could describe a complicated machine accurately to
a listener, unless that machine differed but little from a machine
with which the listener was acquainted. But hand a drawing of even
a very complicated machine to a man who knows its language--and
the whole nature of the object is laid bare to him; not only its
general plan and purpose, but its details, with all their dimensions
and even the approximate weights. So, when the forces representing
a complicated naval situation are placed upon the game-board, all
the elements of the problem appear clearly and correctly to each
person; the imagination has little work to do, and the chance for
misunderstanding is almost negligible. Of course, this does not mean
that the game-board can decide questions with absolute finality. It
cannot do this; but that is only because conditions are represented
with only approximate realism, because the rules of the game may
not be quite correct, and because sufficient correct data cannot be
procured. The difficulties of securing absolute realism are of course
insuperable, and the difficulties of getting absolutely correct data
are very great. The more, however, this work is prosecuted, the more
clearly its difficulties will be indicated, and therefore the more
effectively the remedies can be provided. The more the game-board
is used both on ship and shore, the more ease will be found in
getting correct data for it, and the more correctly conclusions
can then be deduced.

These remarks, while intended for tactical games, seem to apply to
strategical games as well; for both the tactical and the strategical
games are simply endeavors to represent actual or probable situations
and occurrences in miniature, by arbitrary symbols, in accordance
with well-understood conventions.

War games and war problems have not yet been accepted by some;
for some regard them as games pure and simple and as academic,
theoretical, and unpractical. It may be admitted that they are
academic and theoretical; but so is the science of gunnery, and so
is the science of navigation. In some ways, however, the lessons
of the game-board are better guides to future work than "practical"
and actual happenings of single battles: for in single battles
everything is possible, and some things happen that were highly
improbable and were really the result of accident. After nearly every
recent war there has been a strong move made toward the adoption
of some weapon, or some method, that has attained success in that
war. For instance, after our Civil War, many monitors were built,
and the spar torpedo was installed in all our ships; after the
battle of Lissa, the ram was exploited as the great weapon of the
future; the Japanese War established the heavily armed and armored
battleships on a secure foundation; and the early days of the present
war caused a great rush toward the submarine. Yet, in most cases,
the success was a single success or a very few successes, and was
a little like the throw of a die, in the sense that the result was
caused in great measure by accident; that is, by causes beyond
the control of man, or by conditions that would probably not recur.

The game calls our attention to the influence of chance in war,
and to the desirability of our recognizing that influence and
endeavoring to eliminate it, when reasoning out the desirability or
undesirability of a certain weapon or a certain method. Of course,
every thoughtful person realizes that few effects in life are due
to one cause only, and that most effects are due to a combination
of many causes; so that, if any weapon or method succeeds or fails,
it is illogical to infer from that one fact that the weapon or
method is good or bad. A common illustration is the well-known
fact that a marksman may hit the target when his aim is too high
or too low, provided that he has erroneously set his sight enough
too low or too high to compensate; whereas if he had made only one
error instead of two, he would have missed. "Two wrongs cannot
make a right," but two errors can compensate each other, and often
do. The theory of the Probability of Errors recognizes this. In
fact, if it were not true that some errors are plus and some minus,
all errors in gunnery (in fact in everything) would be additive
to each other, and we should live in a world of error.

The partial advantage of the game-board over the occurrences of
actual war, for the purpose of studying strategy, lies largely in
its ability to permit a number of trials very quickly; the trials
starting either with identical situations, or with certain changes in
conditions. Of course, the game-board has the tremendous disadvantage
that it presents only a picture, and does not show a real performance;
but the more it is used, and the more fleets and game-boards work
together, the more accurate the picture will become, and the more
correctly we shall learn to read it.

One limitation of the game-board is that it can represent weather
conditions only imperfectly--and this is a serious limitation that
mayor may not be remedied as time goes on. The theory of the game-board
is in fact in advance of the mechanism, and is waiting for some
bright inventive genius for the remedy. Until this happens, the
imagination must do the best it can, and the effect of a certain
kind of weather under the other conditions prevailing will have
to be agreed upon by the contestants.

The term "war game" is perhaps unfortunate, for the reason that
it does not convey a true idea of what a "war game" is. The term
conveys the idea of a competitive exercise, carried on for sport;
whereas the idea underlying the exercise is of the most serious
kind, and has no element of sport about it, except the element that
competition gives. A war game may be simply a game of sport--and
sometimes it is so played; but the intention is to determine some
doubtful point of strategy or tactics, and the competitive element
is simply to impart realism, and to stimulate interest. When two
officers, or two bodies of officers, find themselves on different
sides of a certain question, they sometimes "put it on the game-board,"
to see which side is right.

This statement applies most obviously to tactical games; but it
applies to strategic games as well; for both are inventions designed
to represent in miniature the movements of two opposing forces. The
main difference between strategic and tactical games is the difference
in size. Naturally, the actual means employed are different, but
only so different as the relative areas of movement necessitate.
In the strategic games, the opposing forces are far apart, and do
not see each other; in the tactical games, they operate within
each other's range of vision.

War games when played for the purpose of determining the value
of types of craft and vessels of all kinds, may take on almost
an infinite variety of forms; for the combinations of craft of
different kinds and sizes, and in different numbers, considered
in connection with the various possible combinations of weather,
climate, and possible enemy forces, are so numerous as to defy
computation.

In practice, however, and in a definite problem, the number of
factors can be kept down by assuming average conditions of weather,
using the fairly well-known enemy force that would appear in practice,
and playing games in which the only important variable is the kind
of vessel in question. For instance, in the endeavor to ascertain
the value of the battle cruiser, games can be played in which battle
cruisers are only on one side, or in which they are more numerous,
or faster or more powerful on one side than on the other. Naturally,
the games cannot be as valuable practically as they otherwise would
be, unless they consider the amount of money available. For instance,
if games are played to ascertain the most effective number and
kinds of craft for which to ask appropriations from Congress at
next session, the solution, unless a money limit were fixed, would
be impossible. In other words, the amount of money to be expended
must be one of the known or assumed factors in the problem.

As this amount can never be known, it must be assumed; and, in
order that the whole value of the games may not be lost, in case
the amount assumed were incorrect, it is necessary to assume a
number of possible sums, the upper limit being above the probable
amount to be received, and the lower limit below it, and then work
out the answer to the problem, under each assumption.

Of course, this procedure would be laborious, but most procedures
are that bring about the best results. Suppose that such a procedure
were followed for, say, a year, and that a number of plans, all
worked out, were presented to Congress when it met: plan No. 1,
for instance, consisting of such and such craft showing (according
to the results of the games) the best programme, if $100,000,000
were to be appropriated for the increase of the navy; plan No. 2, if
$90,000,000 were to be appropriated; plan No. 3, if $80,000,000 were
to be appropriated, and so on. Each plan being concisely and clearly
stated, and accompanied by drawings, sketches, and descriptions,
Congress could easily and quickly decide which plan it would adopt.

This scheme would have the obvious advantage over the present scheme
that the professional questions would be decided by professional
men, while the financial question would be decided by Congress,
which alone has the power to decide it. At present, the laymen
on the House Naval Committee spend laborious days interrogating
singly, and on different days, various naval officers, who naturally
do not always agree. Finally, the House Naval Committee decides on
a programme and recommends it to the House. The House discusses
it most seriously (the professional points more seriously than
the financial point), and decides on something. Then the Senate
Committee, using the House decision as a basis, recommends something
to the Senate, and the Senate then decides on something more or
less like what the Senate Committee recommends. Then the whole
question is decided by a Conference Committee of three senators and
three members of the House. It is to be noted that this committee
decides not only how much money the country shall spend on the
navy, but also what kinds of vessels navy officers shall use to
fight in the country's defense; how many officers there shall be,
and how they shall be divided among the various grades!

Attention is requested here to the _ease_ with which a decision
can be made, _provided one does not take into account all of the
factors of a problem, or if he is not thoroughly acquainted with
them_; and attention is also requested to the _impossibility_ of
making a _wise_ decision (except by chance) unless one understands
_all_ the factors, takes _all_ into consideration, and then combines
them _all_, assigning to each its proper weight. From one point of
view, every problem in life is like a problem in mathematics; for
if all the factors are added, subtracted, multiplied, and divided
correctly (that is, if they are combined correctly), and if correct
values are assigned to them, the correct answer is inevitable. In
most of the problems of life, however, certainly in the problems
of strategy, we do not know all of the factors, and cannot assign
them their exactly proper weights; and therefore we rarely get
the absolutely correct answer. The best that any man can do is to
estimate the factors as accurately as he can, judge as correctly
as he can their interaction on each other, and then make his own
conclusion or decision.

When a man can do this well in the ordinary affairs of life, he
is said to be "a man of good judgment"; when he can do it well
in a certain line of work--say investments in real estate--he is
said to have good judgment in real estate. The use of the word
"judgment" here is excellent, because it expresses the act of a
judge, who listens patiently to all the evidence in a case and
then gives his decision. And the act of the judge, and the act
of any man in coming carefully to any decision, consist mainly
in estimating the relative values of all the factors, and their
relations to each other ("sizing them up" is the expressive slang),
and then perceiving with more or less correctness what the answer
is. Some men do not have good judgment; some men highly educated,
brilliant, and well-meaning, seem never to get quite the correct
answer to any problem in life. They are said to be unsuccessful
and no one knows why. Perhaps they lack that instinctive sense
of proportion that some men have--a sense as real as an "ear for
music"; or perhaps they lack a willingness or a capability to think
about a situation with sufficient intentness to force a clear picture
of the situation with all its various features upon the mental
retina.

The ability to make a mental picture, be it of a machine, of any
group of material objects, such as the various units of a fleet
organized as such, or of any other situation, varies with different
men; but like every other kind of ability, it can be strengthened
by practice, and assisted by appropriate means. In the engineering
arts, the practice is gotten by observing and remembering actual
machines; and the assistance is given by drawings of different kinds.
In strategy, the practice is given by observing and remembering the
movements of actual fleets; and the assistance by means of drawings
of different kinds, and by war problems, and the game-board. The
game-board represents a number of successive pictures, and is not
very different in principle from moving-pictures. In fact, the
suggestion has been made repeatedly for several years and is now
in process of development that the various situations in tactical
games might advantageously be photographed on films and afterward
projected in rapid succession on a screen.

One of the curious limitations of the naval game board, both in
tactical and strategic games, is that it takes no account of personnel;
that it assumes that all the various units are manned by crews
that are adequate both in numbers and in training. Of course, it
would be impracticable to test say the relative values of kinds
of vessels, unless all the factors of the problem were the same,
except the two factors that were competing. Therefore the limitation
mentioned is not mentioned as a criticism, but simply to point
out that the game-board, in common with most of the other means
of discussion in naval matters, has gradually led people to think
of naval matters in terms of material units only. That such an
unfortunate state of affairs has come to pass can be verified by
reading almost any paper, even professional, that speaks about
navies; for one will be confronted at once with the statement that
such and such a navy consists of such and such ships, etc. Since
when has a navy consisted of brass and iron? Since when has the mind
and character of man taken a place subordinate to matter? At what
time did the change occur whereby the instrument employed dominated
the human being who employed it? That this is not an academic point,
or an unimportant thing to bear in mind is evidenced by countless
facts in history. In order not to tire the reader, mention will be
made of only one fact, the well-known fight between the American
frigate _Chesapeake_, and the British frigate _Shannon_ to which
I have already referred. These two ships were almost identical
in size and in the number and kinds of guns, and in the number
of officers and crew, and the battle was fought on June 1, 1813,
in Massachusetts Bay, under circumstances of weather and other
conditions that gave no advantage to either. If material and numbers
of personnel were the only factors in the fight, the fight would
have continued very long and ended in a draw. Did these things
occur? No, the _Chesapeake_ was captured in a little less than
fifteen minutes after the first gun was fired, and nearly half her
crew were killed or wounded!

It would be tiresome to recount all the battles both on sea and
land, in which smaller forces defeated forces numerically greater;
but it may not be possible by any other means to force the fact
on the attention--even sometimes of naval officers--that material
vessels, guns, etc., are merely instruments, and that the work
gotten out of any instrument depends not only on the instrument
itself, but on the skill with which it is employed. Usually, when
thinking or speaking of the power of any instrument (or means or
method or organization) we mean the power of which it is capable;
that is, the result which it can produce, _if used with_ 100 _per
cent of skill_. Possibly, we are subconsciously aware that we assume
perfect skill; but whether we are or not, we have become so accustomed
to the tacit acceptance of the phrase, "other things being equal,"
that we have come to forget that other things may not be equal at
all; and that they certainly will not be on the day of trial, if
we forget or undervalue those other things, while our antagonist
does not.

Let us always remember, then, that the effective work gotten out
of any means or instrument is the product of the maximum capability
of the means or instrument and the skill with which it is used;
that, for instance, if two fleets fight, which are numerically
equal in material and personnel, but in which the skill of the
personnel of the A fleet is twice as great as the skill of the
personnel of the B fleet, the A fleet will be twice as powerful
as the B fleet.

It may be objected that it would be absurd to assume the skill
of the personnel in one fleet as twice as great as that of the
personnel in the other fleet, but it can easily be shown that even
so great a disproportion is not impossible, provided the skill in
one fleet is very great. The value of superior skill naturally
becomes important where the difficulties are great. A very simple
illustration is in firing a gun; for even if the skill of one marksman
be greater than that of another, it will be unimportant, if the
target is so large and so close that even the inferior marksman
can hit it at each shot. The probability of hitting a target--so
far as overs and shorts are concerned (or deviations to the left
and right)--varies with the fraction _a/y_, where _a_ is the half
height (or width) of the target, and _y_ is the mean error. The
greater the size of the target, and the less the mean error, the
greater the probability of hitting. The size of the two targets
being fixed, therefore, the smaller the mean error the greater
the probability of hitting. The probability of hitting, however
(as can be seen by the formula), does not increase greatly with
the decrease of error, except in cases where _a/y_ is small, where
the mean error is large relatively to the width or height of the
target. For instance, if _a/y_ is .1 in one case, and .2 in another
case, the probability is practically double in the second case;
whereas, if _a/y_ is 1 in one case, and 2 in another, the probability
increases only 55 per cent; while if it is 2 in one case and 4 in
the other, the probability of hitting increases only 12 per cent.

This means that if two antagonists engage, the more skilful should,
and doubtless will, engage under difficult conditions, where _y_
is considerable relatively to _a_; for instance, at long range.
Suppose that he engages at such a range that he can make 10 per
cent of hits--that is, make 90 per cent of misses; and that his
misses relatively to the enemy's is as 90 to 95--so that the enemy
makes 95 per cent of misses. This does not seem to be (in fact it
is not) an extreme case: and yet _A_ will hit _B_ twice as often
as _B_ will hit _A_. In other words, the effective skill of _A_
will be twice that of _B_.

This illustrates the effect of training--because all that training
in handling any instrument can do is to attain as closely as possible
to the maximum output of the instrument; and as the maximum output
is attained only when the instrument is handled exactly as it should
be handled, and as every departure is therefore an error in handling,
we see that the effect of training is merely to diminish errors.

That this illustration, drawn from gunnery, is applicable in general
terms to strategy seems clear, for the reason that in every strategical
situation, no matter how simple or how complex, there is, and can be
only one _best_ thing to do; so that the statement of any strategic
situation, if followed by a question as to what is the best thing
to do, becomes a problem, to which the answer is--_the best thing
to do_. Of course, in most strategic problems, there are so many
factors almost unknown, and so many factors only imperfectly known,
that we can rarely ascertain mathematically what is the best thing
to do. Nevertheless, there must be a best thing to do, even if we
never ascertain exactly what it is. Now in arriving at the decision
as to the best thing to do, one estimates the weight of each factor
and its bearing on the whole. If one estimates each factor correctly,
that is, if he makes no errors in any estimate, and if he makes no
error in summing up, he will make an absolutely correct decision;
and any departure from correctness in decision can result from
no other cause than from errors in his various estimates and in
their final summation. In other words, skill in strategy is to
be attained by the same process as is skill in other arts: by
eliminating errors.

So, when we take the decisions of the game-board and the war problem,
we must not allow ourselves to forget that there has been a tacit
assumption that the numbers and the skill of the personnel have
been equal on the two sides; and we must supplement our decision
as to the best material to be employed by another decision as to
how we shall see to it that the assumption of equality of personnel
shall be realized in fact--or rather that it shall be realized in
fact that our personnel shall get the maximum of effectiveness
out of the material.

In designing the machine, therefore, we are confronted with the
curious fact that, in general, we must design the various material
parts before designing the personnel parts that are to operate
them.

The most obvious characteristic of the personnel parts is that
the number of personnel parts shall be sufficient to operate the
material parts.

To ascertain the number of personnel parts, the only means is actual
trial; though naturally, if we have previously ascertained the
number of men needed to operate any kind of mechanism, say a certain
kind and size of gun, we can estimate quite accurately the number
needed to operate a similar gun, even if it differ somewhat from
the other gun. After the gun is tried, however, we may have to
change our original estimate, not only because the estimate may
have been in error, but because the requirement of operating the
gun may have changed. For instance, the requirements of fire-control
have within very recent years compelled the addition of a considerable
number of men to the complements of battleships.

Now the need of supplying enough men to operate successfully any
instrument or mechanism is absolute, for the reasons that the number
of things to be done is fixed, and that an insufficient number of
men in the ratio for instance of 9 to 8 may mean a falling off in
the output of the machine much greater than in the ratio of 9 to
8. A simple illustration may be taken from the baseball game; for
it is obvious that the output of a baseball team, in competition with
other teams, would fall off in a much greater ratio than of 9 to
8, by leaving out one member of the nine. Another illustration, or
rather an analogy, may be found in machinery made of rigid metal--say
a steam-engine; for the omission of almost any part in an engine
would entirely stop its operation.

Not only, however, must we see that the number of personnel parts
is sufficient, we must see that they are correctly divided among
the various material parts; otherwise there will be too many in
one place and too few in another; and while it is better to have
too many men than too few, too many men prevent the attainment
of the maximum effect.

The effect of having too few men, however, is not merely in limiting
the effectiveness of the output of the machine; for, if carried
to a considerable degree, it prevents due care of the material
parts themselves, and causes those material parts to deteriorate.
This deterioration may take the form of actual wasting away as
by rust; but even if the deterioration does not advance so far
as actual wastage, it may easily, and often does, advance to the
stage where, although not evidenced by visible rust or by any other
indication, so long as the mechanism is not operated at its normal
rate, it declares itself very clearly as soon as the mechanism is
tried in service. For this reason, all mechanicians realize that
it is better for every mechanism not to lie idle, but to be used
considerably, though, of course, without being forced unduly.

Not only also must the personnel be sufficient in number and correctly
divided, it must be organized in such manner that the personnel
itself will have the characteristics of a machine, in the sense
that each unit will be so placed relatively to the hope of reward
and the fear of punishment, that he will do his allotted tasks
industriously; that he will have the place in the organization
for which his character and abilities fit him, and that he will
be given such duties and exercises as will fit him more and more
for his position, and more and more for advancement to positions
higher.

Not only this, we must exercise foresight in the endeavor that
the material parts and the personnel parts shall be ready at the
same time, so that neither will have to wait for the other; and to
insure the immediate availability when war breaks out, of sufficient
trained personnel to man and fight effectively all the material
units that we shall need to use. This raises the question: "What
units shall we need?" The government itself must, of course, decide
this matter; but it may be pointed out that if in any considerable
war every unit we possess should not be utilized, the navy could
not do as effective work as it otherwise could do. In the present
war, the belligerents have not only utilized all the units that
they had, they have built very many more, using the utmost possible
diligence and despatch. In case we should be drawn into war with
any considerable naval nation, all history and all reasoning show
that we must do the same. Few considerable wars have been waged
except with the greatest energy on each side; for each side knows
that the scale may be turned by a trifling preponderance on one
side; and that if the scale once be turned, it will be practically
impossible ever to restore the balance. Every advantage gained makes
one side relatively weaker to the other than it was before, and
increases the chance that the same side will gain another advantage;
gains and losses are cumulative in their effect. For this reason,
it is essential, if we are to wage war successfully, that we start
right, and send each unit immediately out to service, manned with
a highly trained and skilful personnel; because that is what our
foe will do.

The Germans meet the difficulty of keeping their personnel abreast
of their material very wisely. They utilize the winter months,
when naval operations are almost impossible, for reorganizing and
rearranging their personnel; so that when spring comes, they are
ready in all their ships to start the spring drilling on a systematic
plan. The crews being already organized, and the scheme of drills
well understood, the work of getting the recruits versed in their
relatively simple tasks and the more experienced men skilled in
their new positions is quickly accomplished, and the fleet is soon
ready for the spring maneuvers.

The fundamental requirement of any organization of men is that it
shall approach as closely as possible the characteristics of an
organism, in which all the parts, though independent, are mutually
dependent, each part doing its appropriate work without interfering
with any other, but on the contrary assisting it. The most complex
organization in the world is that of a navy, due primarily to the
great variety of mechanisms in it, and secondarily to the great
variety of trained bodies of men for handling those mechanisms.
This variety extends from the highest posts to the lowest; and
to make such varied organizations work together to a common end
is one of the greatest achievements of civilized man. How it is
accomplished is not clear at first view. It is not hard to see how
a company of soldiers, drawn up in line, can be made to move as
one body by order of the captain. But how in a battleship carrying
a thousand men does the coal-passer in the fire-room do as the
captain on the bridge desires? It may be objected that he does
not--that the captain has no wishes regarding the doings of any
coal-passer--that all the captain is concerned with is the doings
of the ship as a whole. True, in a way; and yet if the various
coal-passers, firemen, quartermasters, _et al_., do not do as the
captain wishes, the ship as a whole will not. The secret of the success
achieved seems to lie in the knitting together of all the personnel
parts by invisible wires of common understanding, analogous to the
visible wires that connect the helmsman with the steering-engine.
In the case of any small body of men, say the force in one fire-room,
the connecting wire joining each man to the petty officer in charge
of that fire-room is almost visible, because the petty officer is
familiar, by experience, with the work of each man; for he has
done that work himself, knows just how it should be done, and knows
how to instruct each man. But the more complicated the organization
is, the more invisible are the communicating wires that tie the
men together, and yet the more important it is that those wires
shall tie them; it is even more important, for instance, that the
wires connecting the chief engineer with all his force shall operate
than that the wires in any one fire-room shall operate. And yet not
only are there more wires, but the wires themselves that connect
the chief engineer to all the men below him, are longer and more
subject to derangement, than the wires that connect the petty officer
of one fire-room to the individuals under him.

The chief engineer, of course, is not tied directly to his coal-passers,
but to men close to himself; close not only in actual distance, but
in experience, knowledge, and sympathy; men who speak the same
languages as he does, who understand what he means when he speaks,
and who speak to him in ways he understands. These men immediately
under him are similarly tied to their immediate subordinates by wires
of knowledge, experience, and sympathy--these to their immediate
subordinates, and so on.

The same statement applies to the captain in his relations with
the chief engineer. The captain may not be an experienced engineer
himself; but he is familiar enough with engineering, with its
difficulties, its possibilities, and its aims, to converse with
the chief engineer in language which both clearly understand.

The same principles seem to apply throughout the whole range of
the personnel: so that, no matter how large the organization of
any navy may be, there is--there must be, if good work is to be
done--a network of invisible wires, uniting all together, by a
strong yet flexible bond of sympathy.

And has the material of the navy no connection with this bond?
Who knows! Brass and steel are said to be lifeless matter. But
does any naval man believe this wholly? Does any man feel that
those battleships, and cruisers, and destroyers, and submarines
are lifeless which he himself--with his own eyes--has seen darting
swiftly, precisely, powerfully on perfect lines and curves, changing
their relative positions through complicated maneuvers without
accident or mistake? Can we really believe that they take no part
and feel no pride in those magnificent pageants on the ocean? From
the earliest times, men have personified ships, calling a ship "he"
or "she," and giving ships the names of people, and of states;
and is not a ship with its crew a living thing, as much as the
body of a man? The body of a man is in part composed of bones and
muscles, and other parts, as truly things of matter as are the
hull and engines of a ship. It is only the spirit of life that
makes a man alive, and permits the members of his body, like the
members of a ship, to perform their appointed tasks.

But even if this notion seems fanciful and absurd, we must admit
that as surely as the mind and brain and nerves and the material
elements of a man must be designed and made to work in harmony
together, so surely must all the parts of any ship, and all the
parts of any navy, parts of material and parts of personnel, be
designed and made to work in harmony together; obedient to the
controlling mind, and sympathetically indoctrinated with the wish
and the will to do as that mind desires.




CHAPTER IX

PREPARING THE ACTIVE FLEET

John Clerk, of Eldin, Scotland, never went to sea, and yet he devised
a scheme of naval tactics, by following which the British Admiral
Rodney gained his victory over the French fleet between Dominica
and Guadeloupe in April, 1782. Clerk devised his system by the
simple plan of thinking intently about naval actions in the large,
disregarding such details as guns, rigging, masts, and weather, and
concentrating on the movements of the fleets themselves, and the
doings of the units of which those fleets were made. He assisted
his mental processes by little models of ships, which he carried in
his pockets, and which he could, and did, arrange on any convenient
table, when he desired to study a problem, or to make a convert.

He was enabled by this simple and inexpensive device to see the
special problems of fleet tactics more clearly than he could have
done by observing battles on board of any ships; for his attention
in the ships would have been distracted by the exciting events
occurring, by the noise and danger, and by the impossibility of
seeing the whole because of the nearness of some of the parts.
The amazing result was that he formed a clearer concept of naval
tactics than any admiral of his time, finally overcame the natural
prejudice of the British navy, and actually induced Rodney to stake
on the suggestion of a non-military civilian his own reputation
and the issue of a great sea fight. Furthermore, the issue was
crowned with success.

Nothing could be simpler than Clerk's method. It was, of course,
applied to tactics, but similar methods are now applied to strategy;
for strategy and tactics, as already pointed out, are based on
similar principles, and differ mainly in the fact that strategy
is larger, covers more space, occupies more time, and involves
a greater number of quantities.

Most of the books on naval strategy go into the subject historically,
and analyze naval campaigns, and also describe those measures of
foresight whereby nations, notably Great Britain, have established
bases all over the world and built up great naval establishments.
These books lay bare the reasons for the large successes that good
naval strategy has attained, both in peace and war, and constitute
nearly all there is of the science of naval strategy.

These books and this method of treating naval strategy are valuable
beyond measure; but officers find considerable difficulty sometimes
in applying the principles set forth to present problems, because
of the paucity of data, the remoteness in time and distance of
many of the episodes described, and the consequent difficulty of
making due allowance for them. Now, no study of naval strategy can
be thoroughly satisfactory to a naval officer unless it assists
him practically to decide what should be done in order to make the
naval forces of his country, including himself, better in whatever
will conduce to victory in the next war. Therefore, at the various
war colleges, although the student is given books on strategy to
study, the major part of the training is given by the applicatory
method, an extension of Clerk's, in which the student applies his
own skill to solving war problems, makes his own estimate of the
situation, solves each problem in his own way (his solution being
afterward criticised by the staff), and then takes part in the
games in which the solutions presented are tried out. This procedure
recognizes the fact that in any human art and science--say medicine,
music, or navigation--it is the art and not the science by which
one gets results; that the science is merely the foundation on
which the art reposes, and that it is by practice of the art and
not by knowledge of the science that skill is gained.

This does not mean, of course, that we do not need as much knowledge
of the science of naval strategy as we can get; for the reason that
the naval profession is a growing profession, which necessitates
that we keep the application of the principles of its strategy
abreast of the improvements of the times, especially in mechanisms;
which necessitates, in turn, that we know what those principles
are.

The applicatory method bears somewhat the same relation to the
method of studying books and hearing lectures that exercises in
practical navigation bear to the study of the theory. There is
one difference, however, as applied to strategy and navigation,
which is that the science of navigation is clearly stated in precise
rules and formulæ, and the problems in practical navigation are
solved by assigning values to quantities like _a, b, c, d_, etc.,
in the formulæ, and working out the results by mathematics; whereas
in strategy, no exact science exists, there are no formulæ, and even
the number of assured facts and principles is small. For this reason
the art of strategy is more extensive and significant relatively
to its science than is the art of navigation to its science.

It is a defect of the historical system that it tends to make men do
as people in the past have done--to make them work by rule. Clerk's
method took no note of what had been done before, but confined
itself to working out what should be done at the moment (that is,
by what we now call the "applicatory method"), taking account of
conditions as they are. By combining the two methods, as all war
colleges do now, officers get the good results of both.

In the studies and exercises at the war colleges, note is taken
of the great events that have gone by, and of the great problems
now presented; by studying the historical events, and by solving
war problems of the present, a certain knowledge of the science
of naval strategy, and a certain skill in the art are gained. The
studies and the problems naturally are of war situations.

Yet every war situation was the result of measures taken in time
of peace. If these measures had been unwise on the part of one
side--say Blue--in the design of certain craft, or the adoption,
or failure of adoption, of certain plans, then Blue's strategic
situation in the war would be more unfavorable than it would have
been if the measures had been wise.

This proves that it is not only in war that strategy should be
consulted; that strategy should be made to perform important services
in peace as well; that strategic considerations should be the guide
to all measures great and small, that not only the major operations
in war, but also the minor preparations in peace, should be conducted
in accordance with the principles of strategy, and conform to its
requirements. By this means, and by this means only, does a system
of preparation seem possible in which all shall prepare with the
same end in view, and in which, therefore, the best results will
be secured in the least time and with the least labor.

The naval machine having been designed, the various parts having
been furnished by the administrative agencies directing personnel
and material, and the consumable stores having been provided by the
agencies of supply (all under the guidance and control of strategy,
and in accordance with the calculations of logistics), the next
step is the same as that with any other machine--to prepare the
machine to do its work.

The work that strategy has to do in accomplishing the preparation
is only in planning; but this planning is not limited to general
planning, for it extends to planning every procedure of training
and administration, no matter how great or how small. It plans the
mobilization of the navy as a whole, the exercises of the fleet,
the training of officers and men to insure that the plans for
mobilization and fleet exercises shall be efficiently carried out,
the exercises of the various craft, and of the various mechanisms
of all kinds in those craft, and even the drills of the officers
and men, that insure that the various craft and mechanisms shall
be handled well. This does not mean that strategy concerns itself
directly with the training of mess cooks and coal-passers; and
it may be admitted that such training is only under strategy's
general guidance. It may be admitted, also, that a considerable
part of the training of men in using mechanisms is caused by the
requirements of the mechanism itself; that practically the same
training is needed for a water-tender in the merchant service as
for a water-tender in the navy. Nevertheless, we must either declare
that the training of mechanicians in the nary has no relation to the
demands of preparation of the navy for war, or else admit that the
training comes under the broad dominion of strategy. To admit this
does not mean at all that the training of a naval radio electrician is
not directed in its details almost wholly by electrical engineering
requirements; it merely means that the training must be such as to
fulfil the requirements of strategy, for otherwise it would have
no value. No matter how well trained a man might be in radio work,
his work would be useless for naval purposes, if not made useful
by being adapted to naval requirements. The fact that strategy
controls the training of radio electricians through the medium of
electrical means is only one illustration of another important
fact, which is that in all its operations strategy directs the
methods by which results are to be attained, and utilizes whatever
means, even technical means, are the most effective and appropriate.

The naval machine having been designed as to both personnel and
material, strategy has nothing to do with the material in preparing
the machine for use, because the material parts are already prepared,
and it is the work of engineering to keep those material parts in
a state of continual preparedness.

It must be noted, however, that the naval machine differs from
most material machines in that its various parts, material as well
as personnel, are continually being replaced by newer parts, and
added to by parts of novel kinds. Strategy must be consulted, of
course, in designing the characteristics of the newer and the novel
parts; but this work properly belongs in the designing stage, and
not in the preparation stage.

Strategy's work, therefore, in preparing the naval machine for
work consists wholly in preparing the personnel. This preparing
may be divided into two parts--preparing the existing fleet already
mobilized and preparing the rest of the navy.

_Preparing the Fleet_.--The fleet itself is always ready. This
does not mean that, in time of profound peace, every ship in the
fleet has all its men on board, its chain hove short, and its engines
ready to turn over at a moment's notice; but it does mean that this
condition is always approximated in whatever degree the necessities
of the moment exact. Normally, it is not necessary to keep all the
men on board; but whenever, or if ever, it becomes so necessary,
the men can be kept on board and everything made ready for instant
use. It is perfectly correct, therefore, to say that, so far as it
may be necessary, a fleet in active commission is always ready.

_Training_.--Before this state of readiness can be attained, however,
a great deal of training has to be carried out; and this training
must naturally be designed and prosecuted solely to attain this
end. Unless this end be held constantly in view, and unless the
methods of training be adapted to attain it, the training cannot
possibly be effective. To go from any point to another point, one
must proceed in the correct direction. If he proceeds in another
direction, he will miss the point.

The training of the fleet naturally must be in doing the things
which the fleet would have to do in war. To decide what things
these will probably be, resort must be had to the teachings of
history, especially the most recent history, and to the teachings
of the war problem, the chart maneuver, and the game-board.

The part of the personnel which it is the most important to train
is, of course, the commander-in-chief himself; and no reason is
apparent for supposing that his training should be conducted on
principles different from those that control the training of every
other person in the fleet. Men being the same in general, their
qualities differing only in degree, it is logical to conclude that,
if a gun-pointer or coxswain is best trained by being made first
to understand the principles that underlie the correct performance
of his work, and then by being given a good deal of practice in
performing it, a commander-in-chief, or a captain, engineer, or
gunner, can be best trained under a similar plan. Knowledge and
practice have always been the most effective means of acquiring
skill, and probably will continue to be the best for some time
to come.

Owing to the fact that navies have been in existence for many years,
the general qualifications of efficient naval officers are fairly
well known; and they have always been the same in the most important
particulars, though the recent coming of scientific apparatus has
made available and valuable certain types of men not especially
valuable before this scientific apparatus appeared.

In all navies, and equally in all armies, the qualification that
has been the most important has been character. To insure, or rather
to do the utmost toward insuring, proper character in its officers,
all countries for many years have educated certain young men of
the country to be officers in the army and navy, and they have
educated young men for no other service. If knowledge were the
prime requirement, special training for young men would not be
needed; the various educational institutions could supply young
men highly educated; and if the government were to take each year
a certain number of graduates who could pass certain examinations,
the educational institutions would be glad to educate young men to
pass them. In securing young men of proper education and physique,
little difficulty would be found. Special schools could even give
sufficient instruction in military and maritime subjects to enable
young men to become useful in minor positions on shipboard and in
camp, after a brief experience there. In fact, for some of the
positions in the army and navy, such as those in the medical corps
and others, military or naval training is not needed, or exacted.

The truth of these remarks is not so obvious now as it was some
years ago, and it has never been so obvious in navies as in armies;
because education in the use of the numerous special appliances
used in ships could be given less readily by private instruction
than in the use of the simpler appliances used in armies. But even
now, and even in the navy, the course given at Annapolis is usually
termed a "training" rather than an education.

Yet even education, educators tell us, is more a matter of training
than a matter of imparting knowledge. This indicates that even
for the duties of civil life, the paramount aim of educators is
so to train the characters of young men as to fit them for good
citizenship.

We may assume, therefore, that the primary aim of governments in
preparing young men for the army and navy is to develop character
along the line needed for useful work in those services.

What is that line?

Probably nine officers in ten would answer this question with the
words, "the line of duty." This does not mean that officers are
the only people who should be trained to follow the line of duty;
but it does mean that, in military and naval schools, the training
is more devoted to this than in other schools, except, of course,
those schools that train young men for the priesthood or other
departments of the religious life. The analogy between the clerical
and the military professions in this regard has been pointed out many
times; but perhaps the closeness with which the medical profession
approximates both in its adherence to the line of duty has not been
appreciated as fully as it should be.

_Duty_.--The reason for the predominance of the idea of duty over
any other in naval training is due, of course, to a realization
of the fact that more can be accomplished by officers having a
strict sense of duty though otherwise lacking, than by officers
having any or all the other qualifications, but lacking the sense
of duty. As an extreme instance of the doubtful value of highly
trained officers who lack the sense of duty, we need but to point
to those traitors who, in the past, have turned their powers in
the hour of need against the cause they were engaged to fight for.

One cannot pursue the path of duty when that path becomes difficult
or disagreeable unless the sense of duty is so strong as to resist
the temptation to leave the path. To train a man to be strong in
this way, we train his character.

There are several ways in which a man is tempted to leave the line
of duty; of these perhaps the most important are danger, sloth,
and love of pleasure. No human being is perfectly strong along
any of these lines; and some are most tempted by danger, some by
sloth, and some by love of pleasure.

Sloth and the love of pleasure do not act as hinderances to efficiency
in the naval profession any more than they do in other callings.
There is no profession, business, or vocation, in which a man's
efficiency does not depend largely on his power of resistance to the
allurement of sloth and pleasure. In all walks of life, including
the usual routine of the naval life, these two factors are the
main stumbling-blocks to the success of any man. That is, they
are the main stumbling-blocks that training can remove or lessen;
the main stumbling-blocks in the way of his attaining that degree
of efficiency for which his mental and physical abilities themselves
would fit him. Natural abilities are not here considered; we are
considering merely what training can do to develop men as they
are for the naval life.

_Courage_.--Danger is the special influence to divert a man from
duty's line that is distinctive of the army and the navy; and therefore
to secure ability to overcome this influence is the distinct effort
of military training. To train a young man for the army, the training
naturally is directed toward minimizing the influence of one class
of dangers; while to train a young man for the navy, the training
must be directed toward minimizing the influence of another class.
Of course training toward courage in any line develops courage in
other lines; but nevertheless a naval training does not enable
a man to ride a plunging cavalry horse with equanimity; nor does
training as a cavalryman wholly fit a man to brave the dangers
of the deep in a submarine.

Thirty years ago, the present writer showed Commander Royal Bird
Bradford, U. S. N., the wonders of the U. S. S. _Atlanta_, the
first ship of what Americans then called "The New Navy." When I
showed Bradford the conning-tower, I remarked that many captains
who had visited the _Atlanta_ had said that they would not go into
the conning-tower in battle. To this Bradford replied: "The captain
who would not go into the conning-tower in battle would be very
brave, but he'd be a d----d fool."

The obvious truth of this remark, the intimate connection which
it suggested between courage and folly, and the fact often noted
in life that to be brave is often to be foolish, contrasted with
the fact that in all history the virtue of courage in men has been
more lauded than any other virtue, suggests that a brief inquiry
into the nature and influence of courage may be interesting.

The definitions of courage found in the dictionary are most
unsatisfactory, except that they say that the word "courage" comes
from the Latin "cor," the heart; showing that it is deemed a moral
quality, rather than physical or mental.

Yet the deeds of courage that history and fiction tell, have been
deeds of what we call "physical courage," in which heroes and heroines
have braved death and physical suffering. Far in the background
are deeds of "moral courage," though many wise men have told us
that "moral courage" is a quality higher than "physical courage,"
and more important.

It is a little difficult to make a clear picture of courage that
is physical, as distinguished from courage that is moral; or moral
as distinguished from physical. Courage seems to be a quality so
clearly marked as to be hardly qualifiable by any adjective except
an adjective indicating degree--such as "great" or "little"; but if
any other adjective may be applied to it, the adjective "moral" seems
to be the only one. For courage, no matter how or why displayed, is
from its very essence, moral. Strictly speaking, how can there be
any courage except moral courage? If a man braves death or physical
suffering, the quality that enables him to brave it is certainly
not physical; certainly it does not pertain to the physical body.
The "first law of nature" impels him to escape or yield; and it
impels him with a powerful force. If this force be not successfully
resisted, the man will yield.

Now the act of resisting a temptation to escape a physical danger is
due to a more or less conscious desire to preserve one's self-respect
and the respect of one's fellow men; and therefore, the best way in
which to train a man to be brave is to cultivate his self-respect
and a desire to have the respect of his fellow men; and to foster
the idea that he will lose both if he acts in a cowardly way.

Naturally, some men are more apt to be cowards as regards physical
dangers than are others; and men differ greatly in this way. Men
of rugged physique, dull imagination, and sluggish nerves are not
so prone to fear of physical danger, especially danger far ahead
in the future, as are men of delicate physique, keen imagination,
and highly strung nervous system; and yet men of the latter class
sometimes surpass men of the former class when the danger actually
arrives--they seem to have prepared themselves for it, when men
of the former class seem in a measure to be taken by surprise.

It is the attainment of physical courage, or courage to defy a
threat of physical injury, that military training aims at. That it
has done so successfully in the past, the history of the valiant
deeds of sailors and soldiers bears superabundant witness. This
courage has been brought out because it was essential. Courage is
to a man what strength is to structural materials. No matter how
physically strong and mentally equipped a man may be; no matter
how perfectly designed and constructed an engine may be, neither
the man nor the engine will "stand up to the work," unless the
courage in the one case, and the strength of the materials in the
other case, are adequate to the stress.

While perfect courage would enable a man to approach certain death
with equanimity, all that is usually demanded of a man is that he
shall dare to risk death, if need be. To do this successfully, a
great assistance is a knowledge that even if things look bad, the
danger is not so great as it appears. Therefore, training confronts
men frequently with situations that look dangerous, but which skill
and coolness can avert. In this way, the pupil becomes familiar
with the face of danger, and learns that it is not so terrible as
it seems. Nothing else makes a man so brave regarding a certain
danger as to have met that danger successfully before. This statement
must be qualified with the remark that in some cases a danger,
although passed successfully, has been known to do a harm to the
nervous system from which it never has recovered. This is especially
the case if it was accompanied with a great and sudden noise and
the evidence of great injury to others. In cases like this, the
shock probably comes too abruptly to enable the man to prepare
himself to receive it. The efficacy of a little preparation, even
preparation lasting but a few seconds, is worthy of remark. Two
theories connecting fear and trembling may be noted here: one that a
person trembles because he fears; the other, and later, that trembling
is automatic, and that a person fears _because he trembles_.

But the influence of fear is not only to tempt a man to turn his
back on duty and seek safety in flight, for it affects him in many
degrees short of this. Sometimes, in fact usually, it prevents the
accurate operation of the mind in greater or less degree. Here
again training comes to the rescue, by so habituating a man to
do his work in a certain way (loading a gun for instance) that
he will do it automatically, and yet correctly, when his mind is
almost paralyzed for a time. A very few men are so constituted
that danger is a stimulus to not only their physical but their
mental functions; so that they never think quite so quickly and
so clearly as when in great danger. Such men are born commanders.

Discussion of such an abstract thing as courage may seem out of
place in a discussion of "Naval Strategy"; but while it is true
that naval strategy is largely concerned with mental operations,
while courage is a moral or spiritual quality, yet strategy concerns
itself with the securing of all means to victory, and of these means
courage is more important than any other one thing. One plan or
one system of training may be better than another; but they differ
only in degree, and if one plan fails another may be substituted;
but if courage be found lacking, there is no substitute on earth.
Now, if courage is to be inculcated by some system of training,
surely it is not amiss to devote a few minutes to an analysis of
the nature of courage, to seek what light we can get as to the
best methods of training to employ.

_Responsibility_.--There is one form of courage which most men
are never called upon to use, and that is willingness to take
responsibility. Most men are never confronted with a situation
requiring them to take it. To naval men, however, the necessity
comes often, even to naval men in the lower grades; for they are
often confronted with situations in which they can accept or evade
responsibility. That courage is needed, no one can doubt who has
had experience. To accept responsibility, however, is not always
best either for the individual or for the cause; often it were
better to lay the responsibility on higher authority, by asking for
instructions. But the same remark is true of all uses of courage;
it is not always best to be brave, either for the individual or for
the cause. Both the individual and the cause can often be better
served by Prudence than by her big brother Courage. When, however,
the conditions require courage in any form, such as willingness to
accept responsibility, the man in charge of the situation at the
moment must use courage, or--fail. In such cases the decision rests
with the man himself. He cannot shift it to another's shoulders,
even if he would. Even if he decides and acts on the advice of
others, the responsibility remains with him.

_From the Top Down, or from the Bottom Up?_--There are two directions
in which to approach the subject of training the personnel--from
the top down, and from the bottom up. The latter is the easier
way; is it the better?

The latter is the easier way, because it is quicker and requires
less knowledge. In training a turret crew in this way, for instance,
one does not have to consider much outside of the turret itself.
The ammunition can be sent up and down, and the guns can be loaded,
pointed, and fired with just as much quickness and accuracy as is
humanly practicable, without much reference to the ship itself,
the fleet, or the navy. In fact, knowledge of outside requirements
hinders in some ways rather than advances training of this kind.
Knowledge, for instance, of the requirements of actual battle is a
distinct brake on many of the activities of mere target practice.

But while it is easier to train in this way all the various bodies
of men that must be trained, it is obvious that by training them
wholly without reference to the requirements of the fleet as a
whole, the best result that we could expect would be a number of
bodies of men, each body well trained as a unit, but the combined
units not trained at all as component elements of the whole. The
result would be a little like what one would expect from the efforts
of an orchestra at playing a selection which the whole orchestra
had never played before together, but of which each member of the
orchestra had previously learned his part, and played it according
to his own ideas, without consulting the orchestra leader.

By approaching the subject from the other direction, however, that
is, from the top, the training of each organization within the
fleet is arranged with reference to the work of the fleet as a
whole, the various features of the drills of each organization
being indicated by the conditions developed by that work. If this
plan be carried out, a longer time will be required to drill the
various bodies of men; but when it has been accomplished, those bodies
will be drilled, not only as separate bodies, but as sympathetic
elements of the whole.

Of course the desirability of drilling separate divisions of a
fleet, ana separate ships, turret crews, fire-control parties,
and what-not, in accordance with the requirements of fleet work
does not prevent them from drilling by themselves as often as they
wish--any more than the necessity of drilling in the orchestra
prevents a trombone player from practising on his instrument as
much as the police will let him.

Thus the fact of keeping a fleet together does more than merely
give opportunity for acquiring skill in handling the fleet itself,
and in handling the various ships so that they will work together
as parts of the fleet machine; because it shows each of the various
smaller units within the ships themselves how to direct its training.

For this reason, the idea so often suggested of keeping the fleet
normally broken up into smaller parts, those parts close enough
together to unite before an enemy could strike, is most objectionable.
It is impossible to keep the fleet together all the time, because of
needed repairs, needed relaxation, and the necessity for individual
drills that enable a captain or division commander to strengthen his
weak points; but nevertheless since the "mission" of training is
to attain fighting efficiency in the fleet as a whole, rather than
to attain fighting efficiency in the various parts; and since it
can be attained only by drilling the fleet as a whole, the decision
to keep the fleet united as much as practicable seems inevitably to
follow. Besides, the statement cannot be successfully controverted
that difficult things are usually not so well done as easy things,
that drills of large organizations are more difficult than drills
of small organizations, and that in every fleet the drills that
are done the worst are the drills of the fleet as a whole. How
could anything else be expected, when one considers how much more
often, for instance, a turret crew is exercised at loading than
the fleet is exercised at the difficult movement of changing the
"line of bearing"?

The older officers remember that for many years we carried on drills
at what we called "fleet tactics," though we knew they were only
tactical drills. They were excellent in the same sense as that in
which the drill of the manual of arms was excellent, or the squad
exercises given to recruits. They were necessary; but beyond the
elementary purpose of training in ship handling in fleet movements,
they had no "end in view"; they were planned with a limited horizon,
they were planned from the bottom.

_General Staff_.--In order to direct the drills of a fleet toward
some worthy end, that end itself must be clearly seen; and in order
that it may be clearly seen, it first must be discovered. The end
does not exist as a bright mark in the sky, but as the answer to a
difficult problem; it cannot be found by guessing or by speculating
or by groping in the dark. Strategy says that the best way in which
to find it is by the "estimate of the situation" method.

Owing to the fact that the commander-in-chief and all his personnel
are, by the nature of the conditions surrounding them, on executive
duty, the working out of the end in view of any extensive drills
seems the task of the Navy Department; while the task of attaining
it seems to belong to the commander-in-chief. Owing to the present
stage of electrical progress, the Navy Department has better means of
ascertaining the whole naval situation than has the commander-in-chief,
and if officers (General Staff) be stationed at the department
to receive and digest all the information received, and decide
on the best procedure in each contingency as it arises, the Navy
Department can then give the commander-in-chief the information he
requires and general instructions how to proceed.

This does not mean that the department would "interfere" with the
commander-in-chief, but simply that it would assist him. The area
of discretion of the commander-in-chief should not be invaded; for
if it be invaded, not only may orders be given without knowledge
of certain facts in the commander-in-chief's possession, but the
commander-in-chief will have his difficulties increased by the very
people who are trying to help him. He may be forced into disobeying
orders, a most disturbing thing to have to do; and he will surely
be placed in a position of continuous doubt as to what is expected
of him.

Of course, it must be realized that the difficulties of co-operating
with a commander-in-chief at sea, by means of even the most expert
General Staff, are of the highest order. It is hard to imagine any
task more difficult. It must be accomplished, however, or else
there will be danger all the time that the commander-in-chief will
act as he would not act if he had all the information that the
department had. This suggests at once that the proper office of
the department is merely to give the commander-in-chief information
and let him act on his own judgment. True in a measure; but the
commander-in-chief must be given some instructions, even if they
be general, for the reason that the commander-in-chief is merely
an instrument for enforcing a certain policy. Clearly, he must
know what the policy is, what the department desires; and the mere
statement of the department's desires is of itself an order. If
it is admitted that the commander-in-chief is to carry out the
orders of the department, it remains merely to decide in how great
detail those orders ought to be.

No general answer can be given to the question: "In what detail
shall the orders be?" The general statement can be made, however,
that the instructions should be confined as closely as practicable
to a statement of the department's desires, and that this statement
should be as clear as possible. If, for instance, the only desire
of the department is that the enemy's fleet shall be defeated, no
amplification of this statement is required. But if the department
should desire, for reasons best known to itself, that the enemy
should be defeated by the use of a certain method, then that should
be stated also. Maybe it would not be wise for the department to
state the method the employment of which is desired; maybe the
commander-in-chief would be the best judge of the method to be
employed. But maybe circumstances of governmental policy dictate
the employment of a certain method, even if militarily it is not
the best; and maybe also the department might prefer that method
by reason of information recently received, which it does not have
time to communicate in full.

Now, if it is desirable for the department to give the
commander-in-chief instructions, running the risk of invading his
"area of discretion," and of doing other disadvantageous things,
it is obvious that the department should be thoroughly equipped
for doing it successfully. This means that the department should
be provided not only with the most efficient radio apparatus that
can be secured, manned, of course, by the most skilful operators,
but also with a body of officers capable of handling that particular
part of the Navy Department's work which is the concentrated essence
of all its work, the actual handling of the naval forces. The usual
name given to such a body of officers is "General Staff."

Such bodies of officers have been developed in navies in recent
years, by a desire to take advantage of electrical appliances which
greatly increase the accuracy and rapidity of communication over
long distances. In days not long ago, before communication by radio
was developed, commanders on the spot were in possession of much
more information about events in their vicinity, compared with
the Navy Department, than they are now; and the difficulties and
uncertainties of communication made it necessary to leave much more
to their discretion and initiative. The President of the United
States can now by telephone talk to the commander-in-chief, when
he is in home waters, and every day sees some improvement in this
line. This facility of communication carries with it, of course,
the danger of "interfering," one of the most frequent causes of
trouble in the past, in conducting the operations of both armies
and fleets--a danger very real, very insidious, and very important.
The very ease with which interference can be made, the trained
instinct of the subordinate to follow the wishes of his superior
if he can, the temptation to the superior to wield personally some
military power and get some military glory, conspire to bring about
interference. This is only an illustration, however, of the well-known
fact that every power can be used for evil as well as for good,
and is not a valid argument against developing to the utmost the
communication between the department and the fleet. It is, however,
a very valid argument against developing it unless there be developed
simultaneously some means like a "safety device" for preventing
or at least discouraging its misuse.

The means devised is the General Staff; and in some countries like
Germany it seems to work so well that (unless our information is
incorrect) the Emperor himself does not interfere. He gives the
machine a certain problem to work out, and he accepts the answer
as the answer which has a greater probability of being correct
than any answer he could get by other means.

_Training of the Staff_.--Now, if there is to be at the Navy Department
a body of men who will work out and recommend what instructions
should be given to the commander-in-chief, it seems obvious that
that body of men should be thoroughly trained. In the German army
the training of men to do this work (General Staff work) is given
only to officers specially selected. Certain young officers who
promise well are sent to the war college. Those who show aptitude
and industry are then put tentatively into the General Staff. Those
who show marked fitness in their tentative employment are then put
into the General Staff, which is as truly a special corps as is
our construction corps. How closely this system is followed with
the General Staff in the German navy, the present writer does not
know exactly; but his information is that the system in the navy
is copied (though with certain modifications) after the system in
the army.

How can the General Staff at the Navy Department be trained? In the
same way as that in which officers at the war college are trained:
by study and by solving war problems by tactical and strategical
games. The training would naturally be more extended, as it would
be a postgraduate course.

There is a difference to be noted between games like war games in
which the mental powers are trained, and games like billiards, in
which the nerves and muscles receive practically all the training;
and the difference refers mainly to the memory. Games of cards are
a little like war games; and many books on games of cards have
been written, expounding the principles on which they rest and
giving rules to follow. These books may be said to embody a science
of card-playing.

No such book on naval strategy has appeared; and the obvious reason
is that only a few rules of naval strategy have been formulated.
Staff training, therefore, cannot be given wholly by studying books;
but possibly the scheme suggested to the department by the writer,
when he was Aid for Operations, may be developed into a sort of
illustrative literature, which can assist the memory.

By this scheme, a body of officers at the Navy Department would
occupy their time wholly in studying war problems by devising and
playing strategical and tactical games ashore and afloat. After
each problem had been solved to the satisfaction of the staff, each
distinctive situation in the approved solution would be photographed
in as small a space as practicable, preferably on a moving-picture
film. In the solution of problem 99; for instance, there might be
50 situations and therefore 50 photographs. These photographs,
shown in appropriate succession, would furnish information analogous
to the information imparted to a chess student by the statement of
the successive moves in those games of chess that one sees sometimes
in books on chess and in newspapers. Now if the film photographs
were so arranged that the moves in the approved solution of, say,
problem 99 could be thrown on a screen, as slowly and as quickly
as desired, and if the film records of a few hundred such games
could be conveniently arranged, a very wide range of situations that
would probably come up in war would be portrayed; and the moves
made in handling those situations would form valuable precedents
for action, whenever situations approximating them should come up
in war.

It must be borne in mind that in actual life, our only real guide
to wise action in any contingency that may arise is a memory, more
or less consciously realized, of how a similar contingency has
been met, successfully or unsuccessfully, in the past. Perhaps
most of us do not realize that it is not so much experience that
guides us as our memory of experiences. Therefore in the training
of both officers and enlisted men in strategy, tactics, seamanship,
gunnery, engineering, and the rest, the memory of how they, or
some one else, did this well and that badly (even if the memory
be hardly conscious) is the immediate agency for bringing about
improvement.

Imagine now a strategical system of training for the navy, in which
a body of highly trained officers at the department will continuously
regulate the exercises of the fleet, guided by the revelations of
the _Kriegspiel:_ the commander-in-chief will direct the activities
of the main divisions of the fleet, carrying out the department's
scheme; the commander of each division will regulate the activities
of the units of his command in accordance with the fleet scheme;
the officer in command of each unit of each division will regulate
the activities of each unit in his ship, destroyer, submarine,
or other craft in accordance with the division scheme; and every
suborganization, in every ship, destroyer, or other craft will
regulate likewise the activities of its members; so that the navy
will resemble a vast and efficient organism, all the parts leagued
together by a common understanding and a common purpose; mutually
dependent, mutually assisting, sympathetically obedient to the
controlling mind that directs them toward the "end in view."

It must be obvious, however, that in order that the navy shall
be like an organism, its brain (the General Staff) must not be a
thing apart, but must be of it, and bound to every part by ties
of sympathy and understanding. It would be possible to have a staff
excellent in many ways, and yet so out of touch with the fleet
and its practical requirements that co-ordination between the two
would not exist. Analogous conditions are sometimes seen in people
suffering from a certain class of nervous ailments; the mind seems
unimpaired, but co-ordination between the brain and certain muscles
is almost wholly lacking.

To prevent such a condition, therefore, the staff must be kept in
touch with the fleet; and it must also permit the fleet to keep
in touch with the staff, by arranging that, accompanying the system
of training, there shall be a system of education which will insure
that the general plan will be understood throughout the fleet; and
that the means undertaken to execute it will be made sufficiently
clear to enable each person to receive the assistance of his own
intelligence. No man can do his best work in the dark. Darkness is
of itself depressing; while light, if not too intense, stimulates
the activities of every living thing.

This does not mean that every mess attendant in the fleet should
be put into possession of the war plans of the commander-in-chief,
that he should be given any more information than he can assimilate
and digest, or than he needs, to do his work the best. Just how
much information to impart, and just how much to withhold are
quantitative questions, which can be decided wisely by only those
persons who know what their quantitative values are. This is an
important matter, and should be dealt with as such by the staff
itself. To get the maximum work out of every man is the aim of
training; to get the maximum work that shall be effective in attaining
the end in view, training must be directed by strategy, because
strategy alone has a clear knowledge of what is the end in view.

_Stimuli_.--Some men are so slothful that exertion of any kind is
abhorrent to them; but these men are few, and are very few indeed
among a lot of healthy and normal men such as fill a navy. An office
boy, lazy beyond belief in the work he is engaged to do, will go
through the most violent exertions at a baseball game; and a darky
who prefers a soft resting-place in the shade of an umbrageous
tree to laboring in the fields will be stirred to wild enthusiasm
by a game of "craps."

Now why are the office boy and the darky stimulated by these games?
By the elements of competition, chance, and possible danger they
bring out and the excitement thereby engendered. Training, therefore
introduces these elements into drills as much as it can. Competition
alone does not suffice, otherwise all men would play chess; competition
and chance combined are not enough, or gentlemen would not need
the danger of losing money to make card games interesting; but
any game that brings in all three elements will rouse the utmost
interest and activity of which a man is capable. Games involving
these three elements are known by many names; one name is "poker,"
another name is "business," and another name is "politics." There
are many other games besides, but the greatest of all is strategy.

Now in the endeavor to prepare a fleet by training, no lack of
means for exciting interest will be found; in fact no other training
offers so many and so great a variety of means for introducing
the elements of competition, chance, and danger. The problem is
how best to employ them.

To do this successfully, it must be realized, of course, that the
greatest single factor in exciting interest is the personal factor,
since comparatively few men can get much interested in a matter
that is impersonal; a boy is more interested in watching a baseball
game in which he knows some of the players than in watching a game
between teams neither of which he has ever seen; and the men in
any ship are more interested in the competition between their ship
and some other than between any other two; feeling that _esprit de
corps_ by reason of which every individual in every organization
personifies the organization as a living thing of which he himself
is part.

_Strategic Problems_.--The training of the fleet, then, can best be
done under the direction of a trained staff, that staff generously
employing all the resources of competition, chance, and danger. The
obvious way to do this is to give out to the fleet for solution a
continual succession of strategic problems, which the entire fleet
will be engaged in solving, and which will be the starting-point
for all the drills of the fleet and in the fleet. (Some officers
prefer the word "maneuver" to "problem.")

The arranging of a continual series of war problems, or maneuvers
to be worked out in the fleet by "games," will call for an amount
of strategical skill second only to the skill needed for operations
in war, will deal with similar factors and be founded on similar
principles.

Naturally, the war problems, before being sent to the fleet for
solving, would be solved first by the staff, using strategical
and tactical games, and other appropriate means; and inasmuch as
the scheme of education and training is for the benefit of the
staff itself, as well as for the benefit of the fleet, certain
members of the staff would go out with the fleet to note in what
ways, each problem sent down was defective, in what ways good--and
in what ways it could be modified with benefit. The successive
situations and solutions, made first by the staff and subsequently
by the fleet, can then be photographed and made part of the history
of war problems, for the library of the staff.

In laying out the war problems, the staff will be guided naturally
by the ends in view--first to work out solutions of strategic,
logistic, and tactical situations in future wars, and second to
give opportunity to the various divisions, ships, turret crews,
engineers' forces, etc., for drills that will train them to meet
probable contingencies in future wars.

This double end will not be so difficult of attainment as might at
first sight seem, for the reason that the solution of any problem
which represents a situation actually probable will automatically
provide all the minor situations necessary to drill the various
bodies; and the more inherently probable a situation is, the more
probable will be the situations in which the various flag-officers,
captains, quartermasters, engineers' forces, turret crews, etc.,
will find themselves.

Of course, the prime difficulty in devising realistic problems is
the fact that in war our whole fleet would be employed together
against an enemy fleet; and as the staff cannot supply an enemy
fleet, it must either imagine an enemy fleet, divert a small part
of our fleet to represent an enemy fleet, or else divide our fleet
into two approximately equal parts, one "red," and one "blue."

_First Scheme_.--The first scheme has its usefulness in working
out the actual handling of the fleet as a whole; and considering
the purposes of strategy only, is the most important, though, of
course, "contacts" with the enemy cannot be simulated. From the
standpoint of fleet tactical drill, and the standpoint of that part
of strategy which arranges for handling large tactical situations
with success, it is useful, since it provides for the tactical
handling of the entire fleet. This certainly is important; for if
the personnel are to be so trained that the actual fleet shall be
handled with maximum effectiveness in battle, training in handling
that actual fleet must frequently be had; the fleet is a machine,
and no machine is complete if any of its parts is lacking.

It may be objected that it is not necessary for the staff at the
department to devise such training, because drills of the entire
fleet can be devised and carried out by the commander-in-chief;
in fact that that is what he is for. This, of course, is partly
true; and it is not the idea of the author that the staff in the
department should interfere with any scheme of drills that the
commander-in-chief desires to devise and carry out; but it is his
idea that the staff should arrange problems to be worked out by
the fleet, in which the tactical handling of the fleet should be
subordinate to, and carried out for, a strategic purpose.

A very simple drill would be the mere transfer of the fleet to a
distant point, when in supposititious danger from an enemy, employing
by day and night the scouting and screening operations that such a
trip would demand. Another drill would be the massing of previously
separated forces at a given place and time; still another would be
the despatching of certain parts of the fleet to certain points at
certain times. The problems need not be quite so simple as these,
however; for they can include all the operations of a fleet under
its commander-in-chief up to actual contact; the commander-in-chief
being given only such information as the approximate position,
speed, and course of the enemy at a given time, with orders to
intercept him with his whole force; or he may be given information
that the enemy has divided his force, that certain parts were at
certain places going in certain directions at certain speeds at
certain times, and he may be directed to intercept those supposititious
parts; that is, to get such parts of his fleet as he may think best
to certain places at certain times.

Of the strategic value to the staff of the practical solutions of
this class of problems by the fleet, there can be little question;
and the records made if kept up to date, would give data in future
wars for future staffs, of what the whole fleet, and parts of it
acting with the fleet, can reasonably be expected to accomplish,
especially from the standpoint of logistics. And it has the advantage
of dealing with only one thing; the actual handling of the actual
fleet, uncomplicated by other matters, such as interference by an
enemy. For the reason, however, that it leaves out of consideration
the effects of scouting and of contacts with the enemy, it is
incomplete.

_Second Scheme_.--To remedy this incompleteness, resort may be
had to the device of detaching a few vessels from the fleet and
making each represent a force of the enemy; one destroyer, for
instance, to represent a division, four destroyers four divisions,
etc. This scheme has the advantage that all the capital ships can
be handled together, and that, say three-quarters of the destroyers
can be handled without much artificiality on the assumption that
four-fourths are so handled; while for merely strategic purposes
four destroyers, properly separated, can represent four divisions
of destroyers very truthfully. This scheme is useful not only
strategically but tactically; for the reasons that the contacts
made are actual and visible, and that all the personnel on each
side are put to doing things much like those they would do in war.
The scheme is extremely flexible besides; for the number of ways
in which the fleet can be divided is very great, and the number
of operations that can be simulated with considerable accuracy
is therefore very great also. The training given to the personnel
of the fleet is obviously more varied, interesting, and valuable,
than in the first scheme; and the records of the solutions (games
played) will form instructive documents in the offices of the staff,
concerning situations which the first scheme could not bring out.
These records, naturally, will not be so simple as those under the
first scheme, because many factors will enter in, some of which
will bring up debatable points. For when actual contact occurs,
but only "constructive" hits by torpedo and gun are made, much
room for difference of opinion will occur, and many decisions will
be disputed.

To decide disputed questions must, of course, rest with the staff;
but those questions must be decided, and if correct deductions
from the games are to be made, the decisions must be correct. To
achieve correctness in decision the members of the staff must be
highly trained. To devise and develop a good scheme of staff training,
several years may be required.

_Third Scheme_.--The third kind of game is that in which the fleet
is divided into two parts, fairly equal in each of the various
elements, battleships, battle cruisers, destroyers, submarines,
aircraft, etc. This scheme gives opportunity for more realistic
situations than the other two, since each side operates and sees
vessels and formations similar to those that it would operate and
see in war; and it gives opportunity for games which combine both
strategical and tactical operations and situations to a greater
degree than do the other two schemes. Its only weakness is the
fact that the entire fleet is not operated as a unit; not even a
large fraction, but only about one-half. Like each of the other
two schemes, however, it has its distinctive field of usefulness.

Its main advantage is its realism--the fact that two powerful naval
forces, each composed of all the elements of a naval force, seek
each other out; or else one evades and the other seeks; and then
finally they fight a fairly realistic battle; or else one successfully
evades the other; or else minor actions occur between detachments,
and no major result occurs; just as happens in war.

Strategically, this scheme is less valuable than the other two;
tactically, more so. For the experience and the records of the
staff this scheme is less valuable than the other two, but for the
training of the fleet it is more so.

Of course, the division of games for staff and fleet training into
three general schemes is arbitrary, and not wholly correct; for
no such division really exists, and in practice it would not be
observed. The thought of the writer is merely to point out that,
in a general way, the schemes may be divided into three classes,
and to show the convenience of doing so--or at least of recognizing
that there are three general kinds of games, and that each kind
has its advantages and likewise its disadvantages.

In our navy, only three strategic problems or maneuvers, devised
at the department, have been worked out at sea--one in May, and
one in October, 1915, and one in August, 1916: all belonged in
the second category. They were devised by the General Board and
the War College, as we had no staff. The solving of the problems
by the commander-in-chief aroused the greatest interest not only
in the fleet, but in the Navy Department, in fact, throughout the
entire navy, and to a surprising degree throughout the country,
especially among the people on the Atlantic coast. Discussions
of the utmost value were aroused and carried on, and a degree of
co-operation between the department, the War College, and the fleet,
never attained before, was realized. If a routine could be devised
whereby such problems could be solved by practical games, say once
a month, and the results analyzed and recorded in moving-picture
form by the staff in Washington, we could see our way in a few
years' time to a degree of efficiency in strategy which now we
cannot even picture. It would automatically indoctrinate the navy
and produce a sympathetic understanding and a common aim, which
would permeate the personnel and make the navy a veritable organism.
It would attain the utmost attainable by any method now known.

Attention is respectfully invited to the fact that at the present
time naval strategy is mainly an art; that it will probably continue
so for many years; that whether a science of naval strategy will
ever be formulated need not now concern us deeply, and that the
art of naval strategy, like every other art, needs practice for
its successful use. Naval strategy is so vague a term that most
of us have got to looking on it as some mystic art, requiring a
peculiar and unusual quality of mind to master; but there are many
things to indicate that a high degree of skill in it can be attained
by the same means as can a high degree of skill in playing--say
golf: by hard work; and not only by hard work, but by doing the
same thing--or similar things--repeatedly. Now most of us realize
that any largely manual art, such as the technic of the piano,
needs frequent repetition of muscular actions, in order to train
the muscles; but few of us realize how fully this is true of mental
arts, such as working arithmetical or strategical problems, though
we know how easy it is to "get rusty" in navigation. Our mental
muscles and whatever nerves co-ordinate them with our minds seem to
need fully as much practice for their skilful use as do our physical
muscles; and so to attain skill in strategy, we must practise at
it. This means that all hands must practise at it--not only the
staff in their secret sanctuary, not only the commander-in-chief,
not only the division commanders, but, in their respective parts,
the captains, the lieutenants, the ensigns, the warrant officers,
the petty officers, and the youngest recruits. To get this practice,
the department, through the staff, must furnish the ideas, and the
commander-in-chief the tools. Then, day after day, month after
month, and year after year, in port and at sea, by night and by
day, the ideas assisted by the tools will be supplying a continuous
stimulus to the minds of all. This stimulus, properly directed
through the appropriate channels and devoted to wise purposes,
will reach the mess attendant, the coal-passer, and the recruit,
as well as those in positions more responsible (though not more
honorable); and as the harmony of operation of the whole increases,
as skill in each task increases, and as a perception of the strategic
_why_ for the performance of each task increases, the knowledge
will be borne in on all that in useful occupation is to be found
the truest happiness; that only uninterested work at any task is
drudgery; that interest in work brings skill, that skill brings
pleasure in exerting it; and that the greater the number of men
engaged together, and the more wise the system under which they
work, the greater will be the happiness of each man, and the higher
the efficiency of the whole.




CHAPTER X

RESERVES AND SHORE STATIONS

In the preceding chapter it was pointed out that the work of preparing
the naval machine for use could be divided into two parts: preparing
the existing fleet and preparing the rest of the navy.

The "rest of the navy" consists of the Navy Department itself,
the naval stations, the reserve ships and men, and also the ships
and men that must be brought in from civil life. As the department
is the agency for preparing the naval stations, the reserves, and
the men and ships brought in from civil life, it is clear that the
work of preparing the department will automatically prepare the
others. The work of preparing any Navy Department necessitates the
preparation and execution of plans, whereby the department itself
and all the rest of the navy will be able to pass instantly from a
peace footing to a war footing; will be able to pass instantly
from a status of leisurely handling and supplying the existing
fleet by means of the offices, bureaus, and naval stations, to
the status of handling with the greatest possible despatch a force
which will be not only much larger, but also much less disciplined
and coherent.

In time of peace a Navy Department which is properly administered
for times of peace, as most Navy Departments are, can, by means of
its bureaus, naval stations, offices, etc., handle the existing
fleet, and also these bureaus, naval stations, offices, etc., by
labors which for the most part are matters of routine. The department
opens for business at a certain time in the morning and closes at
a certain time in the afternoon. During office hours the various
officials and their clerks fill a few busy hours with not very
strenuous labor, and then depart, leaving their cares behind them.
The naval stations are conducted on similar principles; and even
the doings of the fleet become in a measure matters of routine.
All the ordinary business of life tends to routine, in order that
men may so arrange their time, that they may have regular hours
for work, recreation, and sleep, and be able to make engagements
for the future.

But when war breaks out, all routine is instantly abolished. The
element of surprise, which each side strives to interject into
its operations, is inherently a foe to routine. In a routine life,
expected things occur--it is the office of routine to arrange that
expected things shall occur, and at expected times; in a routine
life one is always prepared to see a certain thing happen at a
certain time. Surprise breaks in on all this, and makes unexpected
things occur, and therefore finds men unprepared. It is the office
of surprise to catch men unprepared.

Appreciating this, and appreciating the value of starting a war
by achieving some great success, and of preventing the enemy from
so doing, military countries in recent years have advanced more and
more their preparations for war, even in time of the profoundest
peace, in order that, when war breaks out, they may be prepared
either to take the offensive at once, or to repel an offensive at
once. With whatever forces a nation expects or desires to fight
in a war, no matter whether it will begin on the offensive or begin
on the defensive, the value to the nation of those forces will
depend on how soon they are gotten ready. In a navy, the active
fleet may be considered always ready; but the personnel and the
craft of various kinds that must be added to it cannot be added
to it as quickly as is desirable--because it is desirable that
they should be added immediately, which is impossible.

It is not in the nature of things that they should get ready as
quickly as a fleet that has been kept ready always; but it is essential
that the handicap to the operations of the active fleet, due to the
tardiness of its additions, should be kept as small as possible.
In other words, whatever additions are to be made to the active
fleet should be made as quickly as possible.

When the additions are made to the fleet (reserve ships and men,
ships and men from civil life, etc.) it is clear that those ships
and men should at that time be ready for effective work. If the
ships are not in condition for effective work by reason of being
out of order, or by reason of the ships from civil life not having
been altered to suit their new requirements, or by reason of the men
not being thoroughly drilled for their new tasks, considerable time
will have to be lost by the necessity of getting the ships and the
men into proper condition--or else warlike operations will have to be
entered into while unprepared, and the classic _Chesapeake-Shannon_
tragedy re-enacted.

Therefore, the endeavor must be strongly made to have ready always
all the ships and men that are to be added to the fleet; the ships
equipped for their duties in the fleet, and the men drilled for
their future tasks.

The matter of getting ready the navy ships that are in reserve
is largely a matter of getting the men to man them, as the ships
themselves are kept in repair, and so in a state of readiness,
materially speaking. At least this is the theory; and the successful
application of the theory, when tested in practice, depends greatly
on how large a proportion of the full complements has been kept
on board, and on the amount and nature of the cruising which the
vessels in reserve have done. The ideal conditions cannot be reached,
unless the full complements have been kept on board, and the ships
required to make frequent cruises. Of course, such a condition is
never met in reserve ships; there would be no reason for putting
ships in reserve if they were to be so handled. The more closely,
however, a ship is kept in that condition of readiness, the more
quickly she can be made absolutely ready in her material condition.

Unless one realizes how and why ships deteriorate in material,
it is surprising to see how many faults develop, when ships in
reserve, that are apparently in good condition, are put into active
service. Trouble is not found, of course, with the stationary parts,
like the bottoms, and sides, and decks, so much as with the moving
parts, especially the parts that have to move and be steam and
gas tight at the same time--the parts found mainly in the steam
engineering and ordnance departments. Defects in the moving parts,
especially in the joints, are not apt to be found out until they
are moved, and often not until they are moved under the pressure
and with the speeds required in service.

Now "in service" usually means in service in time of peace; but the
service for which those ships are kept in reserve is war service,
and the requirements of war service are much more rigorous than
those of peace service. Objection may be made to this statement
by remarking that engines turn around and guns are fired just the
same in war as in peace, and that therefore the requirements are
identical. True in a measure; but vessels and guns are apt to be
forced more in war than in peace; and even if they were not, vessels
in time of peace are gotten ready with a considerable degree of
deliberation, are manned by well-trained men, and are sent to sea
under circumstances which permit of gradually working up to full
service requirements. But when reserve vessels are mobilized and
sent into service for war, everything is done with the utmost haste;
and the men, being hurriedly put on board, cannot possibly be as
well trained and as ready to do skilful work as men sent on board
in peace time; and when reserve vessels get to sea they may be
required immediately to perform the most exacting service.

For all these reasons, it is highly desirable--it is essential
to adequate preparation--that vessels should be kept in a state
of material readiness that is practically perfect. Every vessel on
board of which defects in material develop after she shall have been
put into service, when war breaks out, will be a liability instead
of an asset. She will be able to render no effective service, and
she will require the expenditure of energy by officers and men,
and possibly the assistance of other vessels, when their services
are needed for other work.

But the problem of how to keep reserve vessels in a state of material
readiness is easier than the problem of how to keep the reserve
men in a state of personnel readiness, which will insure their
reporting on board of the reserve ships quickly enough and with
adequate training. This problem is so difficult, and its solution
is so important, that in Great Britain, France, Germany, Japan, and
doubtless other navies, men are compelled to go into the reserves,
and to remain in for several years after completing their periods
of service in the regular navy. In this way, no breaking away from
the navy occurs until after reserve service has been completed,
and every man who enlists remains in the navy and is subject to
its discipline until his reserve period has been passed. Thus the
question of the reserve is a question that has been answered in
those countries, and is therefore no longer a question in them. If
battleship _A_ in any of those countries is to be mobilized, the
government knows just who are to go on board and when; and knows
that every man has recently served in the regular navy, has been
kept in training ever since he left it, and that he is competent to
perform the duties of his allotted station in battleship _A_.

The problem of getting into service the ships that are to be gotten
from the merchant service is more difficult, and is perhaps of more
importance; that is, it is more important to get into the service
some vessels from the merchant service than some reserve ships; more
important, for instance, to get colliers to serve the fleet with
coal than to commission some antiquated cruisers. Naturally, the
number and kinds of ships that need to be provided will depend on
the nature of the war--whether, for instance, a very large force
is to be sent to the other side of the world, to meet a powerful
fleet there, or whether a sudden attack on our Atlantic coast is
to be repelled. The difference, however, is largely numerical; so
that if the plans provide for a sufficient number to take part
in the distant expedition, it will be easy to get the appropriate
number to meet a coast attack.

To receive an attack upon the coast, however, provision must be
made for vessels and men not needed on an expedition across the
seas--that is, for vessels and men that will defend the coast itself
from raids and similar expeditions.

The work of preparing all that part of the naval machine which
in time of peace is separate from the active fleet is purely one
of logistics; it is that part of the preparation which calculates
what ways and means are needed, and then supplies those ways and
means. Logistics, having been told by strategy what strategy plans
to do, calculates how many and what kinds of vessels, men, guns,
torpedoes, fuel, food, hospital service, ammunition, etc., are
needed to make possible the fulfilling of those plans; and then
proceeds to provide what it has calculated must be provided.

This does not mean that strategy should hold itself aloof from
logistics and make arbitrary demands upon it; for such a procedure
would result in making demands that logistics could not supply; or,
through an underestimate of what logistics can supply, in refraining
from demanding as much as could be supplied. Logistics, of course,
does provide what strategy wants, in so far as it can; but in order
that satisfactory results may be obtained, the fullest co-operation
between strategy and logistics is essential; and to this end frequent
conferences are required between the officers representing both.

The logistic work of expanding the naval forces to a war basis
may evidently be divided into two parts: the adding of vessels
and other craft appropriately equipped and manned to the active
fleet, and the establishment of a coast-defense force, which will
be distributed along the coast and divided among the most important
commercial and strategic centres.

_Adding to the Fleet_.--Naturally, the additions to the fleet will
depend on the service for which the fleet is intended; that is, on
the plans of strategy. If the navy were to be gotten ready for a
definite undertaking, then the additions to carry out that undertaking
could be calculated and prepared; and of course this condition
does come up immediately before any war occurs. But in addition to
these preparations which are to be made at the last moment (many
of which cannot be made until the last moment), the staff must
prepare in the leisure of profound peace for several different
contingencies. Inasmuch as many of the additions will be needed,
no matter with what country the war may come; and inasmuch as the
same general kind of additions will be made, it is clear that there
must underlie all the various plans one general plan, to which
modifications must be made to adapt it to special conditions. And
as, no matter whether we are to take the offensive or the defensive,
no matter whether the fleet is to go far away or stay near our
coast, the matter of additions to it is mainly a matter of degree
(whether for instance ten extra colliers are needed or a hundred),
it seems clear that the general plan should be the one demanding
the greatest additions, so that the modifications to adapt it to
special cases would consist merely in making subtractions from it.
To carry out this plan, strategy must make a sufficiently grave
estimate of the situation; and logistics must make calculations to
supply the most difficult demands that the estimate of the situation
indicates as reasonable, and then arrange the means to provide what
the calculations show. If one has provided a little more than is
necessary, it is much easier to leave out something later than it
is to add more, if one has not provided enough; and one's natural
indolence then acts on the side of safety, since it tends to persuade
one not to leave off too much; whereas in the opposite case, it
tends to assure him that it is not really necessary to take the
trouble to provide what it might be hard to get.

_The Estimate of the Situation.--In no field of strategical work
is an accurate estimate of the situation more clearly necessary
than when it is to form the basis for the precise calculations
of logistics_. General strategical plans require a vividness of
imagination and a boldness of conception that find no field for
exercise in logistics; and tactics requires a quickness of decision
and a forcefulness of execution that neither strategy nor logistics
need; but neither strategy nor tactics calls for the mathematical
exactness that logistics must have, or be of no avail. Yet there
will be no use in working out the mathematically correct means to
produce certain result, if the real nature of the desired result
is underrated; there will be no use in working out laboriously how
many ships and tons of coal and oil are needed, if the estimate
of the situation, to meet which those ships and coal and oil are
needed, is inadequate.

The first step, therefore, in providing for the expansion of the
navy for war, is to estimate the situation correctly. The greatest
difficulty in doing this arises from a species of moral cowardice,
which tempts a man to underestimate its dangers, and therefore the
means required to meet them. _Probably no single cause of defeat
in war has been so pregnant with disaster as this failure to make
a sufficiently grave estimate of the situation_. Sometimes the
failure seems due more to carelessness than to cowardice; Napoleon's
disastrous underestimate of the difficulties of his projected Russian
campaign seems more due to carelessness than to cowardice; but this
may be due to a difficulty of associating cowardice with Napoleon.
But is it not equally difficult to associate carelessness with
Napoleon? What professional calculator, what lawyer's clerk was
ever more careful than Napoleon was, when dealing with problems of
war? Who was ever more attentive to details, who more industrious,
who more untiring? And yet Napoleon's plans for his Russian campaign
were inadequate to an amazing degree, and the inadequacy was the
cause of his disaster. But whether the cause was carelessness or
moral cowardice on his part, the fact remains that he did not estimate
the situation with sufficient care, and make due plans to meet it.

This unwillingness to look a difficult situation in the face one
can see frequently in daily life. Great difficulties seem to appall
some people. They hate so much to believe a disaster possible, they
fear so much to let themselves or others realize that a danger
is impending, they are so afraid that other people will think them
"nervous," and they shrink so from recommending measures that would
cause great exertions or great expenditures, that they are very
prone to believe and say that there is no especial danger, and
that whatever danger there may be, can be obviated by measures that
are easy and cheap to carry out.

If we yield to this feeling, we are guilty of moral cowardice,
and we vitiate all the results of all our labors. We _must_ make
a correct estimate of the situation--or rather we must estimate
the situation to be as grave as it is--or our preparations will
be of no avail. If we estimate the situation too gravely, we may
spend more money and time on our preparations than is quite needed,
and our preparations may be more than adequate. It may be that the
preparations which Prussia made before 1870 for war with France
were more than adequate. In fact, it looks as if they were, in
view of the extreme quickness with which she conquered France. But
does any military writer condemn Prussia for having made assurance
too sure?

_The Value of Superadequate Preparation_.--No, on the contrary.
The very reasons that make adequate preparation valuable make
superadequate preparation even more valuable. The reason is very
clear, as is shown by the table on page 284 illustrating the progressive
wasting of fighting forces, which the writer published in the _U.
S. Naval Institute_ in an essay called "American Naval Policy,"
in April, 1905.[*]

[Footnote *: I have recently been informed that Lieutenant (now
Commander) J. V. Chase, U. S. N., arrived at practically the same
results in 1902 by an application of the calculus; and that he
submitted them to the U. S. Naval War College in a paper headed,
"Sea Fights: A Mathematical Investigation of the Effect of Superiority
of Force in."--B. A. F.]

                                    TABLE I
 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------
|                          |Col.|Col.|Col.|Col.|Col.|Col.|Col.|Col.|Col.|Col.|
|                          |  1 |  2 |  3 |  4 |  5 |  6 |  7 |  8 |  9 | 10 |
|----------------------------------------------------------------------------|
|Value of offensive power A|1000|1000|1000|1000|1000|1000|1000|1000|1000|1000|
|  at beginning           B|1000| 900| 800| 700| 600| 500| 400| 300| 200| 100|
|Damage done in 1st       A| 100| 100| 100| 100| 100| 100| 100| 100| 100| 100|
|  period                 B| 100|  90|  80|  70|  60|  50|  40|  30|  20|  10|
|Value of offensive power A| 900| 910| 920| 930| 940| 950| 960| 970| 980| 990|
|  at end of 1st period   B| 900| 800| 700| 600| 500| 400| 300| 200| 100|   0|
|Damage done in 2nd       A|  90|  91|  92|  93|  94|  95|  96|  97|  98|    |
|  period                 B|  90|  80|  70|  60|  50|  40|  30|  20|  10|    |
|Value of offensive power A| 810| 830| 850| 870| 890| 910| 930| 950| 970|    |
|  at end of 2nd period   B| 810| 709| 608| 507| 406| 305| 204| 103|   2|    |
|Damage done in 3rd       A|  81|  83|  85|  87|  89|  91|  93|  95|    |    |
|  period                 B|  81|  71|  61|  51|  41|  31|  20|  10|    |    |
|Value of offensive power A| 729| 759| 789| 819| 849| 879| 910| 940|    |    |
|  at end of 3rd period   B| 729| 626| 523| 420| 317| 214| 111|   8|    |    |
|Damage done in 4th       A|  73|  76|  79|  82|  85|  88|  91|    |    |    |
|  period                 B|  73|  63|  52|  42|  32|  21|  11|    |    |    |
|Value of offensive power A| 656| 696| 737| 777| 817| 858| 899|    |    |    |
|  at end of 4th period   B| 656| 550| 444| 338| 232| 126|  20|    |    |    |
|Damage done in 5th       A|  65|  70|  74|  78|  82|  86|    |    |    |    |
|  period                 B|  65|  55|  44|  34|  23|  13|    |    |    |    |
|Value of offensive power A| 591| 641| 693| 743| 794| 845|    |    |    |    |
|  at end of 5th period   B| 591| 480| 370| 260| 150|  40|    |    |    |    |
|Damage done in 6th       A|  59|  64|  69|  74|  79|  85|    |    |    |    |
|  period                 B|  59|  48|  37|  26|  15|   4|    |    |    |    |
|Value of offensive power A| 532| 593| 656| 717| 779|    |    |    |    |    |
|  at end of 6th period   B| 532| 416| 301| 186|  71|    |    |    |    |    |
|Damage done in 7th       A|  53|  59|  66|  72|  78|    |    |    |    |    |
|  period                 B|  53|  42|  30|  19|   7|    |    |    |    |    |
|Value of offensive power A| 479| 551| 626| 698| 772|    |    |    |    |    |
|  at end of 7th period   B| 479| 357| 235| 114|   0|    |    |    |    |    |
|Damage done in 8th       A|  48|  55|  63|  70|    |    |    |    |    |    |
|  period                 B|  48|  36|  24|  11|    |    |    |    |    |    |
|Value of offensive power A| 431| 515| 602| 687|    |    |    |    |    |    |
|  at end of 8th period   B| 431| 302| 172|  44|    |    |    |    |    |    |
|Damage done in 9th       A|  43|  52|  60|  69|    |    |    |    |    |    |
|  period                 B|  43|  30|  17|   4|    |    |    |    |    |    |
|Value of offensive power A| 388| 485| 585| 683|    |    |    |    |    |    |
|  at end of 9th period   B| 388| 250| 112|   0|    |    |    |    |    |    |
|Damage done in 10th      A|  39|  49|  59|    |    |    |    |    |    |    |
|  period                 B|  39|  25|  11|    |    |    |    |    |    |    |
|Value of offensive power A| 349| 460| 574|    |    |    |    |    |    |    |
|  at end of 10th period  B| 349| 201|  53|    |    |    |    |    |    |    |
|Damage done in 11th      A|  35|  46|  57|    |    |    |    |    |    |    |
|  period                 B|  35|  20|   5|    |    |    |    |    |    |    |
|Value of offensive power A| 314| 440| 569|    |    |    |    |    |    |    |
|  at end of 11th period  B| 314| 155|   0|    |    |    |    |    |    |    |
|Damage done in 12th      A|  31|  44|    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |
|  period                 B|  31|  16|    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |
|Value of offensive power A| 283| 426|    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |
|  at end of 12th period  B| 283| 111|    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |
|                          |    |etc.|    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |
|Total damage done by     A| 717| 789| 800| 700| 600| 500| 400| 300| 200| 100|
|                         B| 717| 574| 431| 317| 228| 159| 101|  60|  30|  10|
 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------

These tables grew out of an attempt to ascertain how the values of
two contending forces change as the fight goes on. The offensive
power of the stronger force is placed in the beginning at 1,000
in each case, and the offensive power of the weaker force at 900,
800, 700, 600, 500, 400, 300, 200, and 100. These values are, of
course, wholly arbitrary, and some may say imaginary; but, as they
are intended merely to show the comparative strength of the two
forces, they are a logical measure, because numerical; there is
always some numerical factor that expresses the comparative value of
two contending forces, even though we never know what that numerical
factor is. Two forces with offensive powers of 1,000 and 900
respectively may mean 1,000 men opposed to 900 men of equal average
individual fighting value, commanded by officers of equal fighting
ability; or it may mean 10 ships opposed to 9 like ships, manned
by officers and men of equal numbers and ability; or it may mean
two forces of equal strength, as regards number of men, ships,
and guns, but commanded by officers whose relative ability is as
1,000 to 900. It may be objected here that it is ridiculous so
to compare officers, because the ability of officers cannot be
so mathematically tabulated. This, of course, is true; but the
fact that we are unable so to compare officers is no reason for
supposing that the abilities of officers, especially officers of
high position, do not affect quantitatively the fighting value
of the forces they command; and the intention in mentioning this
factor is simply to show that the relative values of the forces, as
indicated in these tables, are supposed to include all the factors
that go to make them up.

Another convention, made in these tables, is that every fighting
force is able to inflict a damage in a given time that is proportional
to the force itself; that a force of 1,000, for instance, can do
twice as much damage in a given time as a force of 500 can; also
that a force can do an amount of damage under given conditions
that is proportional to the time in which it is at work; that it
can do twice as much damage in two hours, for instance, as in one
hour, _provided the conditions for doing damage remain the same_.
Another convention follows from these two conventions, and it is
that there is a period of time in which a given force can destroy a
force equal, say, to one-tenth of itself under certain conditions;
that there is some period of time, for instance, in which, under
given conditions, 1,000 men can disable 100 men, or 10 ships disable
1 ship, or 10 guns silence 1 gun. In the conflicts supposed to be
indicated in these tables, this period is the one used. It will
be plain that it is not necessary to know how long this period
is, and also that it depends upon the conditions of the fight.

In Table I, it is supposed that the chance of hitting and the
penetrability are the same to each contestant. In other words,
it is assumed that the _effective targets_ presented by the two
forces are alike in the sense that, if the two targets are hit
at the same instant by like projectiles, equal injuries will be
done. In other words, if each contestant at a given instant fires,
say a 12-inch shell, the injury done to one will be the same as
that done to the other; not proportionately but quantitatively.
For instance, if one force has 10 ships and the other has 9 like
ships, all the ships being so far apart that a shot aimed at one
ship will probably not hit another, the conditions supposed in Table
I, column 2, are satisfied; the chances of hitting are identical
for both contestants, and so is the damage done at every hit. Table
I supposes that the chance of hitting and damaging does not change
until the target is destroyed.

As the desire of the author is now to show the advantage of having
a superadequate force, the following table has been calculated to
show the effect of forces of different size in fighting an enemy
of known and therefore constant size:

                                    TABLE II
 -----------------------------------------------------------------------
|                                                  |Col. 1|Col. 2|Col. 3|
|--------------------------------------------------|------|------|------|
|Value of offensive power at beginning.          A | 1100 | 1500 | 2000 |
|                                                B | 1000 | 1000 | 1000 |
|Damage done in 1st period by                    A |  110 |  150 |  200 |
|                                                B |  100 |  100 |  100 |
|Value of offensive power at end of 1st period   A | 1000 | 1400 | 1900 |
|                                                B |  890 |  850 |  800 |
|Damage done in 2nd period by                    A |  100 |  140 |  190 |
|                                                B |   89 |   85 |   80 |
|Value of offensive power at end of 2nd period   A |  911 | 1315 | 1820 |
|                                                B |  790 |  710 |  610 |
|Damage done in 3rd period by                    A |   91 |  131 |  182 |
|                                                B |   79 |   71 |   61 |
|Value of offensive power at end of 3rd period   A |  832 | 1244 | 1759 |
|                                                B |  699 |  579 |  422 |
|Damage done in 4th period by                    A |   83 |  124 |  176 |
|                                                B |   70 |   58 |   43 |
|Value of offensive power at end of 4th period   A |  762 | 1186 | 1716 |
|                                                B |  616 |  455 |  252 |
|Damage done in 5th period by                    A |   76 |  119 |  172 |
|                                                B |   62 |   46 |   25 |
|Value of offensive power at end of 5th period   A |  700 | 1140 | 1691 |
|                                                B |  540 |  336 |   80 |
|Damage done in 6th period by                    A |   70 |  114 |  169 |
|                                                B |   54 |   34 |    8 |
|Value of offensive power at end of 6th period   A |  646 | 1106 | 1683 |
|                                                B |  470 |  222 |    0 |
|Damage done in 7th period by                    A |   65 |  110 |      |
|                                                B |   47 |   22 |      |
|Value of offensive power at end of 7th period   A |  599 | 1084 |      |
|                                                B |  405 |  112 |      |
|Damage done in 8th period by                    A |   60 |  108 |      |
|                                                B |   41 |   11 |      |
|Value of offensive power at end of 8th period   A |  558 | 1073 |      |
|                                                B |  345 |    4 |      |
|Damage done in 9th period by                    A |   56 |    4 |      |
|                                                B |   35 |    0 |      |
|Value of offensive power at end of 9th period   A |  523 | 1073 |      |
|                                                B |  289 |    0 |      |
|Damage done in 10th period by                   A |   53 |      |      |
|                                                B |   29 |      |      |
|Value of offensive power at end of 10th period  A |  494 |      |      |
|                                                B |  236 |      |      |
|Damage done in 11th period by                   A |   49 |      |      |
|                                                B |   24 |      |      |
|Value of offensive power at end of 11th period  A |  470 |      |      |
|                                                B |  187 |      |      |
|                                                  |      |      |      |
|Value of offensive power at end of 16th period  A |  422 |      |      |
|                                                B |    0 |      |      |
 -----------------------------------------------------------------------

It will be noted that if our force is superior to the enemy's in
the ratio of 1,100 to 1,000, the fight will last longer than if
it is superior in the ratio of 1,500 to 1,000, in the proportion
of 16 to 9; and that if it is superior in the ratio of 1,100 to
1,000 the fight will last longer than if it is superior in the
ratio of 2 to 1, in the proportion of 16 to 6. We also see that we
should, after reducing the enemy to 0, have forces represented by
422, 1,073, and 1,683, respectively, and suffer losses represented
by 678, 427, and 317, respectively.

Now the difference in fighting forces cannot be measured in units
of material and personnel only, though they furnish the most accurate
general guide. Two other factors of great importance enter, the
factors of skill and morale. Skill is perhaps more of an active
agent, and morale is perhaps more of a passive agent, like the
endurance of man or the strength of material; and yet in some battles
morale has been a more important factor in attaining victory than
even skill. It is not vital to this discussion which is the more
important; but it is vital to realize clearly that skill and morale
are not to be forgotten, when we calculate how many and what kinds
of material and personnel units we must provide for a war; and
inasmuch as we cannot weigh morale and skill, or even be sure in
most cases as to which side will possess them in the superior degree,
we are forced in prudence to assume that the enemy may possess
them in a superior degree, and that therefore we should secure
superadequacy in units of personnel and material; not so much to
win victory with the minimum of loss to ourselves, as simply to
avert disaster.

The present war shows us that the factors of skill and morale,
while independent of each other, are closely linked together, and
react upon each other. Nothing establishes a good morale more than
does the knowledge of exceeding skill; and nothing promotes skill
more than does an enthusiastic and firm morale.

But superadequateness of preparation has a value greater than in
merely insuring victory with minimum loss to ourselves, in case
war comes, because it exerts the most potent of all influences in
preventing war, since it warns an enemy against attacking. At the
present day, the laws of victory and defeat are so well understood,
and the miseries resulting from defeat are so thoroughly realized,
that no civilized country will voluntarily go to war, except for
extraneous reasons, if it realizes that the chances of success
are small. And as the cumulative consequences of defeats are also
realized, and as no country is apt to assume that the morale and
skill of its forces are measurably greater than those of a probable
antagonist, no country and no alliance is apt to provoke war with
a nation whose armed forces are superior in number of units of
personnel and material; unless, of course, the nation is markedly
inferior in morale and skill, as the Persians were to the legions
of Alexander.

It is often insisted that superadequacy in armed force tends to
war instead of peace, by inducing a country to make war itself;
that the very principles which deter a weak country from attacking
a strong country tend to make a strong country attack a weak one.
There is some truth in this, of course, and history shows many
cases of strong countries deliberately attacking weak ones for the
purpose of conquest.

Analysis of wars, however, in which strong countries have done
this, shows that as a rule, the "strong" country was one which was
strong in a military sense only; and that the "weak" country was
a country which was weak only militarily, but which was potentially
strong in that it was possessed of wealth in land and goods. Most
of the great conquests of history were made by such "strong" over
such "weak" countries. Such were notably those wars by which Persia,
Assyria, Egypt, Greece, Rome, and Spain gained their pre-eminence;
and such were the wars by which they later fell. Such were the
wars of Ghenghis Khan, Tamerlane, Mahomet, and Napoleon; such were
the wars by which most tribes grew to be great nations, and by
which as nations they subsequently fell. No greater cause of war
has ever existed than a disproportion between countries or tribes
of such a character that one was rich and weak, while the other
was strong and poor. Nations are much like individuals--and not
very good individuals. Highwaymen who are poor and strong organize
and drill for the purpose of attacking people who are rich and
weak; and while one would shrink from declaring that nations which
are poor and strong do the same, it may nevertheless be stated
that they have often been accused of doing so, and that some wars
are explainable on that ground and on none other.

The wars of Cæsar in Gaul and Britain do not seem to fall in this
category, and yet they really do; for Rome was poor in Julius Cæsar's
day; and while Gaul and Britain were not rich in goods, they were
rich in land, and Rome craved land.

Of course, there have been wars which were not due to deliberate
attacks by poor and strong countries on rich and weak countries;
wars like our wars of the Revolution, and with Mexico, our War
of the Rebellion, and our Spanish War, and many others in which
various nations have engaged. The causes of many wars have been
so numerous and so complex that the true cause is hard to state;
but it may be stated in general that wars in which countries that
were both rich and strong, as Great Britain and France are now,
have deliberately initiated an aggressive war are few and far apart.
The reason seems to be that countries which are rich tend to become
not militaristic and aggressive, but effeminate and pacific. The
access of luxury, the refinements of living that the useful and
the delightful arts produce, and the influence of women, tend to
wean men from the hardships of military life, and to engender a
distaste for the confusion, bloodshed, and "horrors" of war. For
this reason, the rich countries have shown little tendency to
aggression, but a very considerable tendency to invite aggression.
Physical fighting among nations bears some resemblance to physical
fighting among men, in that rich nations and rich men are apt to
abstain from it, unless they are attacked; or unless they think
they are attacked, or will be. The fact of being rich has the double
influence of removing a great inducement to go to war, and of causing
a distaste for it.

For all of the reasons given above, it would seem advisable when
making an "estimate of the situation," in preparation for war,
to estimate it as gravely as reasonable probability will permit.
The tendency of human nature is to estimate it too lightly; but
in matters of possible war, "madness lies that way."

This seems to mean that in preparing plans for additions to the
fleet for war, we should estimate for the worst condition that
is reasonably probable. In the United States, this means that we
should estimate for a sudden attack by a powerful fleet on our
Atlantic coast; and, as such an attack would occasion a tremendous
temptation to any foe in Asia to make a simultaneous attack in
the Pacific, we must estimate also for sending a large fleet at
the same time on a cruise across the Pacific Ocean.

This clearly means that our estimate must include putting into
the Atlantic and Pacific all the naval vessels that we have, fully
manned with fully drilled crews; and adding besides all the vessels
from civil life that will be needed. The vessels taken from civil
life will be mostly from the merchant service, and will be for
such auxiliary duties as those of hospital ships, supply ships,
fuel ships, and ammunition ships, with some to do duty as scouts.

For the purposes of the United States, therefore, the office of
naval strategy in planning additions to our fleet for war, is to
make a grave estimate of the naval requirements in both the Atlantic
and the Pacific; to divide the total actual and prospective naval
force between the Atlantic and the Pacific in such a way as shall
seem the wisest; to assign duties in general to each force; and
then to turn over to logistics the task of making the quantitative
calculations, and of performing the various acts, which will be
necessary to carry out the decisions made.

Objection may be made to the phrase just used--"to divide the total
force," because it is an axiom with some that one must never divide
his total force; and the idea of dividing our fleet, by assigning
part to the Atlantic and part to the Pacific, has been condemned
by many officers, the present writer among them.

This is an illustration of how frequently phrases are used to express
briefly ideas which could not be expressed fully without careful
qualifications and explanations that would necessitate many words;
and it shows how carefully one must be on his guard, lest he put
technical phrases to unintended uses, and attach incorrect meanings
to them. As a brief technical statement, we may say, "never divide
your force"; but when we say this, we make a condensed statement
of a principle, and expect it to be regarded as such, and not as
a full statement. The full statement would be: "In the presence of
an active enemy, do not so divide your force that the enemy could
attack each division in detail with a superior force." Napoleon
was a past master in the art of overwhelming separate portions of
an enemy's force, and he understood better than any one else of
his time the value of concentration. And yet a favorite plan of
his was to detach a small part of his force, to hold a superior
force of the enemy in check for--say a day--while he whipped another
force of the enemy with his main body. He then turned and chastised
the part which had been held in check by the small detachment, and
prevented from coming to the relief of the force that he attacked
first.

When we say, then, that strategy directs how our naval force should
be divided between the Atlantic and the Pacific, this does not
mean that strategy should so divide it that both divisions would
be confronted with forces larger than themselves. It may mean,
however, that strategy, in order that the force in one ocean shall
be sufficient, may be compelled to reduce the force in the other
ocean almost to zero.

Some may say that, unless we are sure that our force--say in the
Atlantic--is superadequate, we ought to reduce the force in the
Pacific to actual zero. Maybe contingencies might arise for which
such a division would be the wisest; but usually such a condition
exists that one force is so large that the addition to it of certain
small units would increase the force only microscopically; whereas
those small units would be of material value elsewhere--say in
protecting harbors from the raids of small cruisers. Practically
speaking, therefore, strategy would divide our naval force into
Atlantic and Pacific fleets, but those fleets might be very unequal
in size, owing to the vastly greater commercial and national interests
on our Atlantic coast, and the greater remoteness of probable enemies
on our Pacific coast.

In estimating the work to be done by the U. S. Atlantic fleet, three
general objects suggest themselves:

1. To repel an attack made directly on our Atlantic continental
coast.

2. To repel an expedition striving to establish a base in the Caribbean,
preliminary to an attack on our Atlantic continental coast or on
the Panama Canal.

3. To make an expedition to a distant point, to prevent the occupation
of territory by a foreign government in the south Atlantic or the
Pacific.

_First Object_.--To repel an attack made directly on the Atlantic
coast, the plan must provide for getting the needed additions to
the fleet with the utmost despatch. Owing to the keen appreciation
by European nations of the value of secrecy and despatch, any attack
contemplated by one of them on our Atlantic coast would be prepared
behind the curtain, and nothing about its preparation would be
allowed to be reported to the outside world until after the attacking
force had actually sailed. For the force to reach our shores, not
more than two weeks would be needed, even if the fleet stopped at
mid-Atlantic islands to lay in fuel. It is very doubtful if the
fact of stopping there would be allowed to be reported, as the
commander-in-chief could easily take steps to prevent it. It is
possible that merchant steamers might meet the fleet, and report
the fact by radio, but it is not at all certain. A great proportion
of the steamers met would willingly obey an order not to report
it, or even to have their radio apparatus deranged; either because
of national sympathy, or because the captain was "insulted with
a very considerable bribe." The probability, therefore, would be
that we should hear of the departure of the fleet from Europe, and
then hear nothing more about it until it was met by our scouts.

This reasoning shows that to carry out the plans of strategy, logistics
would have to provide plans and means to execute those plans, whereby
our existing fleet, plus all the additions which strategy demanded,
would be waiting at whatever points on the ocean strategy might
indicate, before the coming enemy would reach those points. In
other words, logistics must make and execute such plans that all
the fleet which strategy demands will be at the selected points
in less than two weeks from the time the enemy leaves the shores
of Europe.

Of course, the conditions will not necessarily be such that strategy
will demand that all our reserve ships, especially the oldest ships,
shall go out to sea with the active fleet, ready to engage in battle.
Maybe some of them will be found to be so slow and equipped with
such short-range guns, that they would be an embarrassment to the
commander-in-chief, instead of an assistance. Unless it is clear,
however, that any ship, especially a battleship, _would be an
embarrassment_, her place is clearly with the fighting fleet. The
issue of the battle cannot be known in advance; and as everything
will depend upon that issue, no effort and no instrument should be
spared that can assist in gaining victory. And even if the older
ships might not be of material assistance in the early stages of
a battle, they would do no harm because they could be kept out
of the way, if need be. In case either side gains a conclusive
victory at once, the older ships will do neither good nor harm;
but in case a decisive result is not at once attained, and both
sides are severely damaged, the old ships, held in reserve, may
then come in fresh and whole, like the reserve in land engagements,
and add a fighting force which at that time will be most important
and may be decisive.

Probably some of the ships will be too old, however, to fill places
of any value in the active fleet. These should be fully manned and
equipped, however, for there will be many fields of usefulness
for them. One field will be in assisting the land defenses, in
protecting the mouths of harbors and mine-fields, in defending
submarine bases, and acting as station ships in the coast-defense
system.

_Second Object_.--To repel an enemy expedition, striving to establish
a base in the Caribbean, preparation would have to be made for
as prompt a mobilization as possible; for although the threat of
invasion of our coast would not carry with it the idea of such
early execution as would a direct attack on New York, yet the actual
establishment of a base so near our shores would give such advantages
to a hostile nation for a future invasion, that measures to prevent
it should be undertaken with the utmost possible thoroughness and
despatch; because the operation of establishing a base involves
many elements of difficulty that an active defender can hinder
by aeroplane attacks, etc.; whereas, after a base has once been
established and equipped with appropriate defenses, attacks upon
it are much less productive of results.

The endeavor to establish a base and the opposing effort to prevent
it, will offer many opportunities for excellent work on both sides.
Practically all the elements of naval force will be engaged, and
events on the largest possible scale may be expected. The operations
will naturally be more extended both in time and distance than
in the case of a direct attack upon our coast, and therefore the
task of logistics will be greater. Actual battle between large
forces; minor engagements among aircraft, scouts, submarines, and
destroyers; attacks on the train of the invader--even conflicts
on shore--will be among the probabilities.

_Third Object_.--To send a large expedition to carry out naval
operations in far distant waters--in the south Atlantic, for instance,
to prevent the extension of a monarchical government in South America,
or in the western Pacific to defend our possessions there--calls
for plans involving more logistical calculation and execution,
but permitting a more leisurely procedure. The distances to be
traversed are so great, the lack of bases is so distinct and so
difficult to remedy, and the impossibility of arriving in time
to prevent the seizing of land by any hostile expedition is so
evident, that they combine to necessitate great thoroughness of
preparation and only such a measure of despatch as can be secured
without endangering thoroughness. Whether the projected expedition
shall include troops, the conditions at the time must dictate.
Troops with their transports will much complicate and increase the
difficulties of the problem, and they may or may not be needed.
The critical results can be accomplished by naval operations only;
since nothing can be accomplished if the naval part of the expedition
fails to secure the command of the sea; and the troops cannot be
landed until it has been secured, unless the fact of securing it
can safely be relied on in advance. For these reasons, the troops
may be held back until the command of the sea has been secured,
and then sent out as an independent enterprise. This would seem the
more prudent procedure in most cases, since one successful night
attack on a group of transports by an active enemy might destroy
it altogether.

But whether a military expedition should accompany the fleet, or
follow a few hundred miles behind, or delay starting until command
of the sea has been achieved, it is obvious that the logistic
calculations and executive measures for sending a modern fleet to
a very distant place, and sustaining it there for an indefinite
period, must be of the highest order of difficulty. The difficulty
will be reduced in cases where there is a great probability of
being able to secure a base which would be able to receive large
numbers of deep-draft ships in protected waters, to repair ships
of all classes that might be wounded in battle, and to store and
supply great quantities of ammunition, food, and fuel.

No expedition of such magnitude has ever yet been made--though some
of the expeditions of ancient times, such as the naval expedition
of Persia against Greece, B. C. 480, and the despatch of the Spanish
Armada in more recent days, may have been as difficult, considering
the meagreness of the material and engineering resources of those
epochs.

But even if no military force accompanies the expedition, the enormous
quantities of fuel, supplies, ammunition, medical stores, etc., that
will be required, especially fuel; the world-wide interest that
will be centred on the expedition; the international importance
attaching to it; and the unspeakable necessity that the plans shall
underestimate no difficulty and overlook no factor, point with a
long and steady finger at the necessity of attacking this problem
promptly and very seriously, and of detailing the officers and
constructing the administrative machinery needed to make the
calculations and to execute the measures that the calculations show
to be required.

_Static Defense of the Coast_.--But besides the mobile fleet which
is a nation's principal concern, strategy requires that for certain
points on the coast, where large national and commercial interests
are centred, arrangements shall be made for what may be termed a
"static defense," by vessels, mine-fields, submarines, aircraft,
etc., assigned as permanent parts of the defense of these points,
analogous to forts on the land. The naval activities of this species
of defense will centre on the mine-fields which it is a great part of
their duty to defend. To guard these, and to get timely information
of the coming of any hostile force or raiding expedition, strategy
says we must get our eyes and ears well out from the land. To do
this, water craft and aircraft of various kinds are needed; and
they must be not only sufficiently numerous over each area to scout
the waters thoroughly, but they must be adapted to their purpose,
manned by adequate and skilful crews, and organized so as to act
effectively together.

The work of this patrol system is not to be restricted, however,
to getting and transmitting information. Certain of the craft must
be armed sufficiently to drive off hostile craft, trying to drag
or countermine the defensive mine-fields; some must be able to
add to the defensive mine-fields by planting mines, and some must
be able to pilot friendly ships through the defensive mine-fields;
others still must be able to countermine, drag, and sweep for any
offensive mines that the enemy may plant.

Vessels for this patrol work do not have to be very large; in fact,
for much of the work in the mine-fields, it were better if they
were small, by reason of the ability of small vessels to turn in
restricted spaces.

It would seem that for the patrol service, the vessels of the Revenue
Marine and Lighthouse Service (coast guard) are ideally adapted;
but, of course, there are only a few in total. These would have to
be supplemented by small craft of many kinds, such as tugs, fast
motor-boats, fishing-boats, and trawlers. To find men competent
to man such vessels and do the kind of work required would not be
so difficult as to get men competent to man the more distinctive
fighting ships. Good merchant sailors, fishermen, and tugboat men
would fit into the work with considerable ease, and in quite a
short time. Strategy declares, however, that a coast guard may
be needed a very short time after war breaks out; and that the
vessels and the men, with all the necessary equipment and all the
necessary organization and training, should be put into actual
operation beforehand.

Not only the fleet, however, but all the bureaus and offices of
the Navy Department, all the navy-yards, and an the radio stations,
recruiting stations, hydrographic offices, training stations, and
agencies for securing information from foreign countries, will have
to pass instantly from a peace basis to a war basis. To do these
things quickly and correctly many preliminaries must be arranged;
but if the General Staff prepares good plans beforehand, arranges
measures which will insure that the plans shall be promptly carried
out, and holds a few mobilization drills to test them, the various
bureaus and offices in the department can do the rest. If the fires
have all been lighted, the engine gotten ready, and the boilers
filled in time, the engineer may open the throttle confidently,
when the critical time arrives, for the engine will surely do its
part.

But if the proper plans have not been made and executed, the sudden
outbreak of war, in which any country becomes involved with a powerful
naval country, will create confusion on a scale larger than any
that the world has ever seen, and compared with which pandemonium
would be a Quaker meeting. A realization of facts will come to that
country, and especially to the naval authorities, that will overwhelm
them with the consciousness of their inability to meet the crisis
marching toward them with swift but unhurried tread--confident,
determined, unescapable. Fear of national danger and the sense
of shame, hopelessness and helplessness will combine to produce
psychological effects so keen that even panic will be possible.
Officers in high places at sea and on shore will send telegrams of
inquiry and suggestion; civilians in public and private station
will do the same. No fitting answers can be given, because there
will be no time for reflection and deliberation. The fact that it
would be impossible to get the various additions to the fleet and
the patrol services ready in time, and the consciousness that it
would be useless to do any less, will tend to bring on a desperate
resolve to accept the situation and let the enemy do his worst.
The actual result, however, will probably be like the result of
similar situations in the past; that is, some course of action
will be hastily decided on, not in the reasoned-out belief that
it can accomplish much, but with the feeling that action of any
kind will relieve the nervous tension of the public by giving an
outlet for mental and physical exertion and will, besides, lend
itself to self-encouragement, and create a feeling that proper
and effective measures are being taken.

Such conditions, though on a much smaller scale, are familiar to
naval officers and are suggested by the supposititious order "somebody
do something"; and we frequently see people placed in situations in
which they do not know what to do, and so they do--not nothing,
but anything; though it would often be wiser to do nothing than
to do the thing they do do. Many of the inane remarks that people
make are due to their finding themselves in situations in which
they do not know what to say, but in which they feel impelled to
say "something."

Now what kind of "something" would be done under the stimulus of
the outbreak of a war for which a country had not laid its plans?
Can any worse situation be imagined--except the situation that
would follow when the enemy arrived? The parable of the wise and
foolish virgins suggests the situation, both in the foolishness of
the unpreparedness and in the despair when the consequent disaster
is seen approaching.

In nearly all navies and armies, until the recent enormous increase
in all kinds of material took place, the work of getting a navy
ready for war in personnel and material was comparatively simple.
This does not mean that it was easier then than now; because the
facilities for construction, transportation, communication, and
accounting were much less than now; but it does mean that the actual
number of articles to be handled was much less, and the number
of kinds of articles was also much less; and it also means that
the various mechanical improvements, while they have facilitated
construction, transportation, communication, and accounting, have
done so for every nation; so that none of the competing navies
have had their labors expedited or made less. On the contrary,
the very means devised and developed for expediting work is of
the nature of an instrument; and in order to use that instrument
successfully, one has to study it and practise with it; so that
the necessity for studying and practising with the instrument has
added a new and difficult procedure to those before existing.

Fifty years ago the various mechanisms of naval warfare were few,
and those few simple. In our Navy Department the work of supplying
those mechanisms was divided among several bureaus, and each bureau
was given the duty and the accompanying power of supplying its
particular quota. The rapid multiplication, during the past fifty
years, of new mechanisms, and new kinds of mechanisms; the increased
expense of those mechanisms compared with that of former mechanisms;
the increased size and power of vessels, guns, and engines; the
increased size and complexity of the utilities in navy-yards for
handling them; the necessity for providing and using means and
methods for despatching the resulting "business" speedily, and
for guarding against mistakes in handling the multiplicity of
details--the increase, in brief, in the number, size, and kinds
of things that have to be done in preparation, has brought about
not only more labor in doing those things by the various bureaus
assigned to do them, but has brought about even more imperiously
the demand for means whereby the central authority shall be assured
that each bureau is doing its work. And it has brought about more
imperiously still a demand that a clear conception shall be formed
first of what must be done, and second of the maximum time that
can be allowed for doing it.

Clearly, the forming of a correct conception should not be expected
of men not trained to form it; clearly, for instance, mere knowledge
of electricity and mere skill in using electrical instruments cannot
enable a man to devise radio apparatus for naval use; a certain
amount of knowledge of purely naval and nautical matters is needed
in addition. Clearly, the concept as to the kind of performance
to be required of radio apparatus is not to be expected of a mere
technician, but is to be expected of a strategist--and equally
the ability to design, construct, and supply the apparatus is not
to be expected of a strategist, but it is to be expected of a
technician.

A like remark may be made concerning any mechanism--say a gun, a
torpedo, or an instrument, or a vessel of any kind. The strategist,
by studying the requirements of probable war, concludes that a
certain kind of thing is needed; and the technician supplies it,
or does so to the best of his ability.

The statement thus far made indicates a division of work into two
sharply defined departments; and, theoretically, such a division
does exist. This does not mean, however, that the strategist and the
technician should work independently of each other. Such a procedure
would result in the strategist demanding things the technician could
not supply, and in the technician supplying things the strategist
did not want, under a mistaken impression as to what the strategist
wanted. The fullest and most intimate understanding and co-operation
must exist between the strategist and the technician, as it must
equally between the architect and the builder of a house.

From an appreciation of such facts as these, every great Navy
Department, except that of the United States, has developed a General
Staff, which studies what should be done to prepare for passing
from a state of peace to a state of war; which informs the minister
at the head of the department what things should be done, and is
given power to provide that the various bureaus and offices shall
be able to do them when war breaks. This is the scheme which all
the navy departments, except the American, have devised, to meet
the sudden and violent shock of the outbreak of a modern war. _No
other means has yet been devised_, and no other means is even
forecasted.

The means is extremely simple in principle, but complex beyond
the reach of an ordinary imagination in detail. It consists simply
in writing down a digest of all the various things that are to be
done, dividing the task of doing them among the various bureaus
and offices that are authorized by law to do them, and then seeing
that the bureaus shall be able to do them in the time allowed.

The best way of ascertaining if the bureaus are able to do them is
to mobilize--to put into commission and send out to sea all the craft
that will be needed, fully equipped with a trained personnel and with
a well-conditioned material; and then direct the commander-in-chief
to solve a definite strategic problem--say to defend the coast
against a hypothetical enemy fleet--the solution including tactical
games by day and night.

Before attempting the solution of a strategic problem by an entire
naval force, however, it is usual to hold mobilization exercises
of a character less complete, in the same way that any course of
training begins with drills that are easy and progresses to drills
that are difficult. The simplest of all the preparative drills--if
drills they correctly can be called--is the periodical reporting,
once a month, or once a quarter, by each bureau and office, of its
state of readiness; the report to be in such detail as experience
shows to be the best.

In the days when each bureau's preparation consisted of comparatively
few things to do, the chief of that bureau could be relied on to do
the things required to be done by his bureau; and his oral assurance
to the secretary that--say all the ships had enough ammunition,
or that adequate provision had been made for coal, or that there
were enough enlisted men--would fulfil all requirements. But in the
past fifty years, the requirements have increased a hundredfold,
while the human mind has remained just as it was. So it has seemed
necessary to institute a system of periodical preparation reports,
to examine them carefully, and to use all possible vigilance, lest
any item be forgotten or any work done by two bureaus that ought
to be done by only one.

Who should examine the reports? Naturally the same persons as decide
what should be done. The same studies and deliberations that fit
a person to decide what is needed, fit him to inspect the product
that is offered to supply the need; not only to see if it comes
up to the specifications, but also to decide whether or not any
observed omission is really important; to decide whether, in view of
certain practical difficulties, the specifications may be modified;
and also to decide whether certain improvements suggested by any
bureau should or should not be adopted.

This procedure may seem to put the strategy officers "over" the
technical officers, to put a lieutenant-commander on the General
Staff "over" a rear admiral who is chief of bureau; but such an
idea seems hardly justified. In any well-designed organization
relative degrees of official superiority are functions of rank, and
of nothing else; superiority in rank must, of course, be recognized,
for the reason that when on duty together the junior must obey
the senior. But even this superiority is purely official; it is a
matter of position, and not a matter of honor. All the honor that
is connected with any position is not by reason of the position
itself, but by reason of the honorable service which a man must
have rendered in order to attain it, and which he must continue
to render in order to maintain it. So, in a Navy Department, the
General Staff officers cannot be "over" the bureau officers, unless
by law or regulation certain of the staff are made to rank over
certain bureau officers. A procedure like this would seem to be
unnecessary, except in the case of the chief of staff himself,
who might, for the purpose of prompt administration, be placed by
law over the bureau chiefs.

The importance of the question, however, does not rest on a personal
basis, but a national basis. It makes no difference to the nation
whether Smith is put above Jones, or Jones above Smith; and in
all discussions of national matters it is essential to bear in
mind clearly not only that national questions must not be obscured
by the interjection of the personal element, but also that great
vigilance is needed to prevent it. For the reason that questions of
the salaries of government officials have been settled in advance,
questions of personal prestige and authority are more apt to intrude
themselves among them than among men in civil life, whose main
object is to "make a living"--and as good a living as they can.
In the long struggle that has gone on in the United States Navy
Department between the advocates and the opponents of a General
Staff, the personal element has clouded the question--perhaps more
than any other element. Not only in the department itself, but in
Congress, the question of how much personal "power" the General
Staff would have has been discussed interminably--as though the
personal element were of any importance whatever.

Such an attitude toward "power" is not remarkable when held by
civilians, but it is remarkable when held by men who have had a
military or naval training. Of course, there is an instinct in
all men to crave power; but it is not recognized as an instinct
wholly worthy. It is associated in most men's minds with a desire
for material possessions, such as money or political position, and
not with such aspirations as a desire for honor. In other words,
a strong desire for wealth or power, while natural and pardonable,
is considered a little sordid; while a desire for honor, or for
opportunity to do good service, is held to be commendable. So, when
public officials, either military or civilian, condemn a measure
because it will give somebody "power," the reason given seems to
be incomplete, unless a further reason is given which states the
harm that would be done by conferring the "power."

Military and naval men exercise "power" from the beginning of their
careers until their careers are closed; and they exercise it under
the sane and restraining influence of responsibility; without which
influence, the exercise of power is unjustifiable, and under which
influence the exercise of power is a burden--and oftentimes a heavy
one. That men trained as military men are trained, should aspire to
power for power's own sake, is a little hard to understand--unless
it be confessed that the person desiring the power appreciates
its pleasing features more than its responsibilities, and regards
its duties more lightly than its glories. Few men, even those who
shoulder responsibility the most courageously, desire responsibility
for its own sake--and so the fact of a man ardently desiring "power"
seems a good reason for withholding power from him.

And what is "power," in the sense in which officials, both military
and civilian, use the word? Is it ability to do good service, or is
it ability to bestow favors in order that favors may be received,
to give orders to others coupled with authority to enforce obedience,
or to take revenge for injuries received or fancied? Of course,
"power" is ability to do all these things, good and bad. But if
a man desires power simply to do good service, and if he holds
a highly conscientious view of the accompanying duties and
responsibilities, will he crave "power" as much as some men seem
to do?

It seems fundamental, then, that any strategic plan for preparing
the Navy Department for war should be framed with a strong endeavor to
leave out the personal element, and should regard national usefulness
only. If this be done successfully, and if good selections be made
of the personnel to do it, it will be found that the members of
the personnel will think no more about their "power" than does an
officer of the deck while handling a battleship in fleet formation
during his four hours on the bridge.

In preparing the department for war, one would be in danger of
being overwhelmed by the enormousness and the complexity of the
task, unless he bore in mind continuously that _it is only when we
get into details that any matter becomes complex_; and therefore
that if we can get a clear idea of the whole subject, the principles
that underlie it, and the major divisions into which it naturally is
divided, we can then make those divisions and afterward subdivide
those divisions, and later divide the subdivisions; so that the
whole subject will seem to fall apart as a fowl does under the
hands of a skilful carver. The divisions and subdivisions of the
subject having been made, the remaining task, while onerous, will
be largely a matter of copying and of filling in blank forms.

As all navy departments have means regulated by law such that the
actual executive work of recruiting, constructing, and supplying the
necessary personnel and material shall be done by certain bureaus
and offices, strategy does not need executive power, except for
forcing the bureaus and offices to do the necessary work--should
such forcing become necessary. Strategy being the art of being
a general (_strategos_), one cannot conceive of it as bereft of
executive power, since we cannot conceive of a general exercising
generalship without having executive power. It is true that strategy
occupies itself mainly with planning--but so does a general; and
it is also true that strategy itself does not make the soldiers
march, but neither does a general; it is the colonels and captains
and corporals who make the soldiers march. The general plans the
campaign and arranges the marches, the halts, the bivouacs, provisions,
ammunition, etc., through his logistical officers, and they give
the executive officers general instructions as to how to carry
out the general's plans.

Strategy without executive functions would be like a mind that could
think, but was imprisoned in a body which was paralyzed.

Of course, strategy should have executive functions for the purposes
of strategy only; under the guidance of policy and to execute policy's
behests. Policy is the employer, and strategy the employee.




CHAPTER XI

NAVAL BASES

The nature of naval operations necessitates the expenditure of
fuel, ammunition, and supplies; wear and tear of machinery; fatigue
of personnel; and a gradual fouling of the bottoms of the ships.
In case actual battles mark the operations, the expenditure of
stored-up energy of all kinds is very great indeed, and includes not
only damage done to personnel and material by the various agencies
of destruction, but actual loss of vessels.

To furnish the means of supplying and replenishing the stored-up
energy required for naval operations is the office of naval bases.

A naval base capable of doing this for a large fleet must be a
very great establishment. In such a naval base, one must be able
to build, dock, and repair vessels of all kinds, and the mechanisms
needed in those vessels; anchor a large fleet in safety behind adequate
military and naval protection; supply enough fuel, ammunition,
and supplies for all purposes, and accommodate large reserves of
material and personnel. Inasmuch as a naval base is purely a means
for expending energy for military purposes, and has no other cause
for its existence, it is clear that it cannot be self-supporting.
For this reason it is highly desirable that a naval base shall be
near a great city, especially if that city be a large commercial
and manufacturing centre.

It is true that many large naval bases, such as Malta and Gibraltar
are not near great cities; and it is true that most large naval
bases have no facilities for building ships. But it is also true
that few large naval bases fulfil all the requirements of a perfect
naval base; in fact it is true that none do.

The most obvious requirement of a naval base is a large sheet of
sheltered water, in which colliers and oil-carriers may lie and
give coal and oil to fighting craft, and in which those fighting
craft may lie tranquilly at anchor, and carry on the simple and yet
necessary repairs and adjustments to machinery that every cruising
vessel needs at intervals. Without the ability to fuel and repair,
no fleet could continue long at work, any more than a man could do
so, without food and the repairs which nature carries on in sleep.
The coming of oil fuel and the consequent ease of fuelling, the
practicability even of fuelling in moderate weather when actually
at sea, subtract partially one of the reasons for naval bases; but
they leave the other reasons still existent, especially the reasons
connected with machinery repairs. The principal repair, and the one
most difficult to furnish, is that given by docking in suitable
docks. The size and expense of docks capable of carrying dreadnaughts
and battle cruisers are so great, and their vulnerability to fire
from ships and from aircraft is so extreme, that the matter of
dry-docks is perhaps the most troublesome single matter connected
with a naval base.

The necessity of anchorage areas for submarines is a requirement of
naval bases that has only recently been felt; and the present war
shows a still newer requirement in suitable grounds for aircraft.
The speed of aircraft, however, is so great that little delay or
embarrassment would result if the camp for aircraft were not at the
base itself. Instead of the camp being on Culebra, for instance,
it might well be on Porto Rico. The extreme delicacy of aircraft,
however, and the necessity for quick attention in case of injuries,
especially injuries to the engine, demand a suitable base even
more imperiously than do ships and other rugged things.

That the vessels anchored in the base should be protected from
the fire of ships at sea and from guns on neighboring shores is
clear. Therefore, even if a base be hidden from the sea and far
from it as is the harbor of Santiago, it must be protected by guns,
or mines, or both; the guns being nearer to the enemy than are the
ships in the waters of the base. An island having high bluffs,
where large guns can be installed, and approached by gradually
shoaling waters in which mines can be anchored, with deeper water
outside in which submarines can operate, is desirable from this
point of view.

Ability to store and protect large quantities of provisions is
essential, and especially in the case of ammunition and high explosives.
For storing the latter, a hilly terrain has advantages, since tunnels
can be run horizontally into hills, where explosives can lie safe
from attack, even attack from aircraft dropping bombs above them.

Naturally, the country that has led the world in the matter of
naval bases is Great Britain; and the world at large has hardly
yet risen to a realization of the enduring work that she has been
quietly doing for two hundred years, in establishing and fortifying
commodious resting-places for her war-ships and merchant ships in
all the seas. While other nations have been devoting themselves
to arranging and developing the interiors of their countries, Great
Britain has searched all the oceans, has explored all the coasts,
has established colonies and trading stations everywhere, and formed
a network of intimate commercial relations which covers the world
and radiates from London. To protect her commercial stations and
her merchant ships from unfair dealings in time of peace, and from
capture in time of war, and to threaten all rivals with defeat
should they resort to war, Great Britain has built up the greatest
navy in the world. And as this navy pervades the world, and as her
merchant ships dot every sea and display Great Britain's ensign
in every port, Great Britain has not failed to provide for their
safety and support a series of naval stations that belt the globe.

Bases are of many kinds, and may be divided into many classes.
An evident ground for division is that of locality in relation
to the home country. Looked at from this point of view, we may
divide naval bases into two classes, home bases and distant bases.

_Home Bases_.--A home base is, as its name implies, a base situated
in the home country. The most usual type of the home naval base is
the navy-yard, though few navy-yards can meet all the requirements
of a naval base. The New York navy-yard, for instance, which is our
most important yard, lacks three of the most vital attributes of
a naval base, in that it has no means for receiving and protecting
a large fleet, it cannot be approached by large ships except at
high tide, and it could not receive a seriously injured battleship
at any time, because the channel leading to it is too shallow.

Home bases that approach perfection were evidenced after the battle
off the Skagerak; for the wounded ships of both sides took refuge
after the battle in protected bases, where they were repaired and
refitted, and resupplied with fighting men and fuel. These bases
seem to have been so located, so protected, and so equipped, as
to do exactly what bases are desired to do; they were "bases of
operations" in the best sense. The fleets of the opposing sides
started from those bases as nearly ready as human means and foresight
could devise, returned to them for refreshment after the operations
had been concluded, and, during the operations, were based upon those
bases. If the bases of either fleet had been improperly located,
or inadequately protected or equipped, that fleet would not have
been so completely ready for battle as, in fact, it was; and it
could not have gone to its base for shelter and repairs so quickly
and so surely as, in fact, it did. Many illustrations can be found
in history of the necessity for naval bases; but the illustration
given by this battle of May 31 is of itself so perfect and convincing,
that it seems hardly necessary or even desirable to bring forward
any others.

The fact of the nearness to each other of the bases of the two
contending fleets--the nearness of Germany and Great Britain in
other words--coupled with the nearness of the battle itself to
the bases, and the fact that both fleets retired shortly afterward
to the bases, bring out in clear relief the efficacy of bases; but
nevertheless their efficacy would have been even more strongly
shown if the battle had been near to the bases of the more powerful
fleet, but far from the bases of the other fleet--as was the case
at the battle, near Tsushima, in the Japan Sea.

Of course the weaker fleet in the North Sea battle would not have
been drawn into battle under such conditions, because it would
not have had a safe refuge to retreat to. It was the proximity of
an adequate naval base, that could be approached through protected
waters only, which justified the weaker fleet in dashing out and
taking advantage of what seemed to be an opportunity. Similarly,
if the Russian fleet in the Japan Sea had had a base near by, from
which it had issued ready in all ways, and to which it could have
retired as soon as the battle began to go against it, the Russian
disaster might not have occurred, and full command of the sea by
the Japanese might have been prevented. But there being no base
or harbor of refuge, disaster succeeded disaster in a cumulative
fashion, and the Russian fleet was annihilated in deep water.

If a naval base were lacking to the more powerful fleet, as was
the case in the battle of Manila, the effect would in many cases
be but slight--as at Manila. If, however, the more powerful fleet
were badly injured, the absence of a base would be keenly felt and
might entail disaster in the future, even though the more powerful
fleet were actually victorious. The Japanese fleet was practically
victorious at the battle of August 10, near Port Arthur; but if it
had not been able to refit and repair at a naval base, it would
have met the Russian fleet later with much less probability of
success.

Mahan states that the three main requirements in a naval base are
position, resources, and strength; and of these he considers that
position is the most important; largely because resources and strength
can be artificially supplied, while position is the gift of nature,
and cannot be moved or changed.

Mahan's arguments seem to suggest that the bases he had in mind
were bases distant from home, not home bases; since reference is
continually made by him to the distance and direction of bases
from important strategic points of actual or possible enemies.

His arguments do not seem to apply with equal force to home bases,
for the reason that home bases are intended primarily as bases
from which operations are to start; secondarily as bases to which
fleets may return, and only remotely as bases during operations;
whereas, distant bases are intended as points from which operations
may continually be carried on, during the actual prosecution of
a war. The position of a home base, for instance, as referred to
any enemy's coasts or bases, is relatively unimportant, compared
with its ability to fit out a fleet; while, on the other hand, the
position of distant bases, such as Hong-Kong, Malta, or Gibraltar,
relatively to the coasts of an enemy, is vital in the extreme. It
is the positions of these three bases that make them so valuable
to their holders; placed at points of less strategic value, the
importance of those bases would be strategically less.

Home bases are valuable mainly by reason of their resources. This
does not mean that position is an unimportant factor; it does not
mean, for instance, that a naval base would be valuable if situated
in the Adirondack Mountains, no matter how great resources it might
have. It does mean, however, that the "position" that is important
for a home base is the position that the base holds relatively to
large home commercial centres and to the open sea. New York, for
instance, could be made an excellent naval base, mainly because of
the enormous resources that it has and its nearness to the ocean.
Philadelphia, likewise, could be made valuable, though Philadelphia's
position relatively to deep water is far from good. "Position,"
as used in this sense, is different from the "position" meant by
Mahan, who used the word in its strategic sense. The position of
Philadelphia relatively to deep water could be changed by simply
deepening the channel of the Delaware; but no human power could
change the strategic position of Malta or Gibraltar.

Yet for even home bases, position, resources, and strength must
be combined to get a satisfactory result; the "position" not being
related to foreign naval bases, however, but to large industrial
establishments, mainly in order that working men of various classes
may be secured when needed. The requirements of work on naval craft
are so discontinuous that steady employment can be provided for
comparatively few men only; so that a sort of reservoir is needed,
close at hand, which can be drawn up when men are needed, and into
which men can be put back, whenever the need for them has ceased.
And the same commercial and industrial conditions that assure a
supply of skilled workers, assure a supply of provisions and all
kinds of material as well.

_Distant Bases_.--Distant bases have two fields of usefulness which
are distinct, though one implies the other; one field being merely
that of supplying a fleet and offering a refuge in distress, and
the other field being that of contributing thereby to offensive and
defensive operations. No matter in which light we regard a distant
naval base, it is clear that position, resources, and strength
must be the principal factors; but as soon as we concentrate our
attention on the operations that may be based upon it, we come to
realize how strong a factor position, that is strategic position,
is. The base itself is an inert collection of inert materials;
these materials can be useful to the operations of a fleet that
bases on it; but if the fleet is operating in the Pacific, a base
in the Atlantic is not immediately valuable to it, no matter what
strength and resources the base may have.

The functions of a home base are therefore those that the name
"home" implies; to start the fleet out on its mission, to receive
it on its return, and to offer rest, refuge, and succor in times
of accident and distress.

The functions of a distant base concern more nearly the operations of
a prolonged campaign. A distant base is more difficult to construct as
a rule; largely because the fact of its distance renders engineering
operations difficult and because the very excellence of its position
as an outpost makes it vulnerable to direct attack and often to
a concentration of attacks coming from different directions.

If naval operations are to be conducted at considerable distance
from home, say in the Caribbean Sea, distant bases are necessary,
since without them, the fleet will operate under a serious handicap.
Under some conditions, a fleet operating in the Caribbean without
a base there, against an enemy that had established a satisfactory
base, might have its normal fighting efficiency reduced 50 per cent,
or even more. A fleet is not a motionless fort, whose strength
lies only in its ability to fire guns and withstand punishment; a
fleet is a very live personality, whose ability to fight well--like
a pugilist's--depends largely on its ability to move quickly and
accurately, and to think quickly and accurately. The best pugilists
are not usually the strongest men, though physical strength is
an important factor; the best pugilists are men who are quick as
well as strong, who see an advantage or a danger quickly, and whose
eyes, nerves, and muscles act together swiftly and harmoniously. A
modern fleet, filled with high-grade machinery of all kinds, manned
by highly trained men to operate it, and commanded by officers fit
to be intrusted with such responsibilities, is a highly developed
and sensitive organism--and, like all highly developed and sensitive
organisms, exists in a state of what may be called "unstable
equilibrium." As pointed out in previous pages, the high skill
needed to perform well any very difficult task can be gained only
by great practice in overcoming difficulties and eliminating errors
of many kinds; and when the difficulties are manifold and great, a
comparatively small increase or decrease in the overcoming of them
makes a great difference in the results attained. An interesting
though possibly not very correct analogy is to be seen in the case of
a polished surface; for we readily note that the more highly polished
the surface is, the more easily it is sullied. Another analogy may
be found in the performance of a great pianist or violinist; for
a very small failure in his skill for even an instant will produce
a painful feeling that could not be produced by a much greater
failure in an ordinary performer. Another analogy is to be found in
the case of a ship that is going at the upper limit of her speed;
for a very minor failure of any part of her machinery will produce
a much greater slowing than it would if her speed were slower.

Perhaps apologies are in order for dwelling so long on what may seem
to some an academic question, but it does not seem to the writer
to be academic at all. Certainly, the "condition" of a pugilist, or
a fleet, about to fight, is not an academic consideration; and if
it is not, no matter which affects this condition can rightfully be
considered academic. The whole usefulness of bases is due to their
ability to put fleets into good fighting condition and to maintain
them in it; and it seems a very proper and useful thing to note that
the more highly trained a fleet is, and the more highly organized
the various appliances the fleet contains, the more difference
results from a falling off in the condition of its personnel and
material.

This shows the advantage of having a base as close to the place
where a fight is going to happen as may be possible. This does
not mean, of course, that a fleet should remain for long periods
within its base; because a fleet, like any other practiser of any
art, needs constant practice. It merely means that the closer the
base is to the scene of the operations or the actual battle, the
better "tuned up" the personnel and material will be. It also means
that this consideration is of the highest practical importance.

_Advanced Bases_.--The extreme desirability of having a base near
the scene of operations, even if the base be only temporarily held,
has led to the use of what are called "advanced bases." An excellent
and modern illustration of an advanced base is the base which the
Japanese established at the Elliot Islands about sixty miles from
Port Arthur, which the Japanese were besieging. The Russian fleet
could issue from their base at Port Arthur whenever the Russians
wished, and return to it at will. While inside, until the Japanese
had landed and attacked them from the land side, the Russians could
make their preparations in security and leisure, and then go out.
The Japanese fleet, on the other hand, until they had established
their base, were forced to remain under way at sea, and to accept
action at the will of the Russians; so that, although Port Arthur
was besieged, the advantages of the offensive, to some extent,
resided with the Russians. The establishment of the base did not,
of course, change the situation wholly; but it permitted a very
considerable relaxation of vigilance and mental strain on the part
of the Japanese, and a considerable easement of the motive power
of their ships. Naturally, the Japanese made arrangements whereby
their heavy ships could remain in comparative tranquillity near
the base, while destroyers and scouts of various kinds kept touch
with Port Arthur, and notified the base by wireless of any probable
sortie by the Russian fleet.

The temporary advanced base at the Elliot Islands was, as temporary
advanced bases always must be, quite incomplete in every way as
compared with the permanent bases at home. It fulfilled its mission,
however, and was in fact as good a base as really was required.
The strategic ability of the Japanese was indicated quite early
in the war by the promptness and skill with which they established
this base.

Of course, all advanced bases are distant bases, but the words
usually imply temporariness, as does in fact the word "advance."
An instance of an advanced base that has been far from temporary
is the island of Jamaica, and another is the island of Bermuda;
another is Malta, and still another is Gibraltar. These bases form
stepping-stones, by which Great Britain's navy may go by easy stages
from one position to another, stopping at a base when desired, or
going beyond it without stopping, secure in the knowledge that
the base is "under her lee" in case of accident or distress.

Viewed from the standpoint of operations in an actual war, the
strategic value of a certain position for a base is important,
no matter whether the operations are offensive or defensive; and
the same factors that make a position good for defensive operations
make it good for offensive operations also. For instance, if we
wish to send a fleet on a hostile expedition to a distant point,
it is well to have a base on a salient as far out as practicable
from the coast, in order that the fleet may be able to start, full
of fuel and supplies, from a place near the distant point; and
equally, if we are to receive an attack upon the coast, it is well
to have a base far out, in order to embarrass the transit of the
enemy toward our coast, by the threat--first against his flank,
and later against his rear and his communications. Naval bases
looked at from this point of view resemble those forts that European
nations place along their frontiers.

It is true that any base placed at a salient has the weakness of
all salients, in that fire can be concentrated on it from several
directions; and a naval base has the added disadvantage of a more
difficult withdrawal, if attacked by an overwhelming force, and a
longer line of communications that has to be protected. But this
weakness all distant bases have, from the fact that they are distant;
and, naturally, the more distant they are, the more difficult it is to
support them, because the longer are their lines of communications.

Distant naval bases, therefore, are vulnerable in a high degree;
they are vulnerable both to direct attack and to an attack on their
lines of communications; and the factors that help a base in one
way injure it in another. If a naval base is placed on a rock,
or a rugged little island that holds nothing else, and on which
a hostile army could not land, it is very safe from land attack;
whereas, if it is placed on a large and fertile island, on which
an invading army could easily land, it is extremely vulnerable
to land attack. But, on the other hand, the naval base on the
inaccessible island could be starved out by simply breaking its
lines of communications, while the naval base on the large and
fertile island might be able to survive indefinitely, even though
the communications were wholly ruptured.

The establishment of any permanent distant naval base is a matter
of great expense, even if the natural conditions are favorable.
But favorable conditions have rarely existed; and the expense of
establishing such bases as Malta, Gibraltar, and Heligoland has
been tremendous. An important consideration has been the fact that,
unless the base were made so strong that it could not be taken,
it might be better not to attempt to fortify it, on the theory
that it would be better to let a poor naval base fall into the
hands of the enemy than a good one. To this reasoning, the answer
is usually made that no base can be made absolutely impregnable,
and that sufficient defense will be provided if it makes the task
and cost of capturing the base greater than the base is worth.
This means simply that the more valuable the base is, the more
money should be spent in defending it; and that _it is worse than
useless to defend it by any means that is obviously too small,
in proportion to its value_.

It often happens that the places that have the best position are
weak in strength and resources; a notable instance is Gibraltar,
another is Culebra, and the most notable of all is Guam. None of
these places is fortunate in either resources or natural strength,
though Gibraltar was strong for the artillery of the time when
the base was established there. In fact, it is hard to think of
any place that combines in itself the three advantages of a fine
strategical position, large resources, and great strength. The
three attributes seem almost incompatible; for how can a base far
distant from its home be well placed with reference to attacking
the lines of communication of any enemy intending to attack the
home coast, and yet have its own lines of communications safe? How
can it have a sheet of water, just deep enough but not too deep
to anchor a large fleet in, with all of its auxiliaries extensive
enough to accommodate all the vessels and far enough from the sea
to be safe from gun-fire, and yet be on an island so small and
so rugged, that an enemy could not land troops near the base and
capture it from the land side, as the Japanese captured Port Arthur?
The natural strategic advantages of a large and sheltered sheet
of water seem to entail the disadvantages of a large island, or
a continent.

There seems only one way in which to solve the problem of where
and how to establish a permanent naval base at a distant point, and
that is the way in which the world's preceptor--Great Britain--has
solved it; and the solution is to select a place that has already the
advantage of position, and then add to it the artificial advantages
of resources and military strength.

This brief statement makes the matter seem a little too simple;
and so it will have to be modified by adding that the mere fact
of a place having a fine position is not quite sufficient, because
the place must be of such a character that it is capable of having
resources and strength added to it; a sharp pinnacle rock in the
middle of the Mediterranean, for instance, might have a fine strategic
position, and yet be unavailable as a naval base. Even here, however,
we must pause to note that energy and will could do much toward
making even a pinnacle rock a naval base; for we see the gigantic
fortress of Heligoland erected on what was little but a shoal;
and we see the diminutive water areas of Malta and Gibraltar made
to hold in safety the war-ships of the greatest navy in the world.

Despite the paramount importance of strategic position, we must not
forget that a naval base should have sufficient military strength
to be able to hold out for a long time against hostile operations,
as many bases, notably Gibraltar and Port Arthur, have done, without
the assistance of the fleet. The German base at Kiao-chau held out
for more than two months in 1914, without any external aid. During
all the time of siege, even if surrender is ultimately to occur,
the enemy's forces are prevented from being utilized elsewhere.
This condition was clearly shown during the siege of Port Arthur,
because the large force of Japanese troops required to conduct
the siege were urgently needed in Manchuria--to which region they
were sent as soon as Port Arthur fell.

From this point of view, naval bases again look much like fortresses
on the land; fortresses like Metz and Strasburg, that had to be
subdued before an enemy could safely pass them.

_Strategic Position of Distant Bases_.--Since the strategic position
of an outlying naval base is the principal factor that goes to
make its value, it may be well to consider what elements make a
strategic position good.

To make the problem clear, let us take a concrete case, that of
our own country, and consider what elements would constitute a good
strategic position for a naval base of the United States, leaving
out of consideration for the moment any questions of resources and
military strength.

In the case of a war with a nation that had only one naval home
base, it is clear that the best position for our distant base would
be one as close to the enemy's base as possible; because, if placed
there, our fleet, if it were the more powerful, could do more to
injure the enemy's fleet, or prevent its going out, than if placed
at any point more distant from the enemy's base; and if it were
less powerful, it could do more to cut the enemy's communications,
because it could attack them at or near their source.

A poor position would be one far away from both countries, and
far away from the line joining them. In the case of a war between
this country and Norway, for instance, a very poor position for a
naval base would be a spot near--say Juan Fernandez--in the south
Pacific.

In case the enemy country has two home bases of equal importance,
the best position for our base clearly would be one equidistant
from them, and as near to each as practicable. If the distance
from our base to a point half-way between the two bases is shorter
than is the distance to it from either base, then a fleet at our
base could probably prevent the junction of two forces issuing
from those two bases--assuming, of course, that we had a proper
system of scouting. Our fleet would be able to operate on what
are often called "interior lines"--a technical expression that has
great efficacy in confusing a simple matter. It is also assumed
that our fleet is considerably stronger than either of the two
separated enemy forces; otherwise our case would be hopeless.

If the two home bases of the enemy are unequal in importance, it
would seem that our base should be nearer to the important base
than to the other. More strictly speaking, it should be nearer
to the base from which the larger force may be expected to come
out.

If the enemy country have three or more bases, from which parts of
a fleet may be expected to come out, the question seems a little
more complex; but nevertheless, since the first duty of our fleet
would probably be to prevent junctions or a junction, of the separated
parts of the enemy's fleet, the best position for our home base
would be at a point about equally distant from them all, and as
close to them as possible. In the wars between Great Britain and
France in the early part of the nineteenth century, the base of the
British fleet for operations on the western and northern coasts of
France was as close to the enemy home bases as practicable--though
the base was England itself. For operations on France's southern
coast, the base was at Gibraltar, or some Mediterranean island.

That any country should be able to hold a distant base close to
the home base of a possible naval enemy might seem impossible,
if we did not know that Great Britain holds Bermuda and Jamaica
near to our own coast, and Hong-Kong actually inside of China,
all far away from Britain; besides Malta and Gibraltar in the
Mediterranean, nearer to the coasts of sometime enemies than to
her own. That the United States should own a base far from her own
coasts, and near those of other countries, might seem improbable,
were it not for the fact that Guam is such a base, and is so situated.
It is true that Guam is not strictly a naval base, because it is
not so equipped or fortified; but we are thinking now of position
only.

In case the enemy country has several home bases, and it is impossible
to have our distant base so near to them as to prevent the junction
of parts of a fleet issuing from them, the value of the base is
less than it otherwise would be.

In this case, which is the one in which our country is actually
concerned, because of its great distance from other countries, its
value becomes merely the usual value attaching to a naval base;
and the fact that the entire enemy fleet can operate as a unit, that
it can divide into separate forces at will near its own shores,
or send out detachments to prey on the long line of communications
stretching from our distant base to that base's home, necessitates
that the base be fortified in the strongest possible way, and provided
with large amounts of supplies. Its principal function in war would
be to shorten the long trip that our vessels would have to make
without refreshment, and therefore the length of their lines of
communications, and to enable our vessels to arrive in enemy's waters
in better condition of readiness for battle than would otherwise
be the case.

We have thus far considered the best position for an advanced naval
base, in the case of operations against one country only.

It seems clear that, if we are to consider operations against two
countries separately, and at different times, we should be led
to conclude that the case of each country should be decided
individually; in the case of wars with Norway and Portugal, for
instance, the best places for our two bases would be as close to
the home bases of those countries as possible; and even in the
case of fighting two simultaneously, the conclusion would be the
same, if the two countries were in widely different directions
from us--as are Switzerland and China. If we consider the case
of war against two contiguous countries simultaneously, however,
it would seem better to have one base, situated similarly toward
the home bases of the two countries as toward two different home
bases in one country--since the two countries would be, in effect,
allies; and their fleets would act in reality like separated portions
of one fleet.

As the United States possesses no island on the Atlantic side which
is nearer to foreign countries than to our own, and as our interests
for the immediate future lie mostly on the Atlantic side, it may
be well now to apply the general principles just considered to
the question of where is a naval base most urgently needed under
actual conditions.

Imagining a war between us and some one European naval Power, and
imagining a war also between us and two or three allied European
naval Powers, and realizing the length of our Atlantic and Gulf
coasts, extending from Maine to Panama, a glance at the map shows
us that, apart from the home naval bases on our continental coasts,
the position on American soil which is the closest to European
bases is on the little island of Culebra, which occupies a salient
in the northeastern end of the Caribbean Sea.[*]

[Footnote *: The acquisition by the United States of the island
of Saint Thomas, about 20 miles east of Culebra, if accomplished,
will extend the salient just so much farther toward Europe.]

The only reason an enemy would have for entering the Caribbean
would be an intention to attack the Panama Canal region, or an
intention to establish an advanced base, from which he could conduct
more or less deliberate siege of our Atlantic coast and cities. In
either case, our fleet would be seriously handicapped if it had no
adequate base in the Caribbean; because its line of communications
north would be exposed to the enemy's operations at all times;
and seriously wounded American ships would have little chance of
getting repairs; little chance even of making successfully the long
trip to Norfolk or New York.

In case the enemy fleet should start from Europe fully prepared in
every way, we should be in ignorance of its intended destination;
and as the enemy fleet would be stronger than ours (otherwise it
would not start) it would doubtless be able to destroy our undefended
station at Guantanamo, seize some suitable place in the West Indies,
say the Bay of Samana, and then establish a base there, unless we
had first seized and fortified all suitable localities; and the
United States would then find itself in the anomalous position
of being confronted near its own coasts with an enemy fleet well
based for war, while her own fleet would not be based at all. Not
only would the enemy fleet be superior in power, but it would possess
the strategical advantage, though far from its own shores. The
situation, therefore, about a month after the foreign fleet left
Europe, would be that the Caribbean Sea would contain a hostile
fleet which was not only superior to ours in power, but was securely
resting on a base; while ours had no base south of Norfolk, the
other side of Hatteras. Our fleet would be in a position similar
to that of the Russian fleet when it rushed to its destruction
in Tsushirna Straits, though not in so great a degree; because
it would have had more recent docking and refitting in our home
ports, and the personnel would be fresher.

In case, however, we had a naval base strongly fortified and thoroughly
equipped, at a salient in the Caribbean region, say at Culebra, and
if our fleet were based upon it, a hostile fleet, even if it were
considerably superior to our own, would hesitate to pass it and
enter the Caribbean, by reason of the continuous threat that the
fleet would exert on its communications. Even if the hostile fleet
should pass Culebra, and establish a base farther on, an American
force based on Culebra would continue to exert this threat on the
communications between the hostile base and its mother country.

An American base--say at Guantanamo--would be very effective in
embarrassing hostile operations _west_ of Guantanamo, because it
would be on the flank of the line of communications extending from
Europe; but it would be comparatively ineffective in embarrassing
operations east of it, since the hostile line of communications
would be protected from it by the interposition of its own main
body; this interposition necessitating the despatch of defending
forces around that main body. The coming hostile force would push
before it all resistance, and leave the sea free for the passage
of its auxiliaries and supplies. A defending force, operating from
Guantanamo, in endeavoring to prevent a hostile fleet from establishing
a base to the _eastward_ of it, would act much less effectively
than a force operating from Culebra. Not only would the force from
Guantanamo have to pass around the main body to attack the train;
it would again have to pass around the main body to get back to
Guantanamo; whereas a force operating from Culebra could make a
direct attack upon the enemy's train, and then a direct retreat
to Culebra.

This comparison assumes, as has been said, that the matter of resources
and strength are not in question; that is, that they are equal in
our two supposition bases. But, as in practice they would not be
equal, the practical point to consider is how much strength and
resources can compensate for inferiority of position, and how much
position must be insisted on.

Of course, no correct quantitative answer can be given, except
by accident. The problem, unfortunately, cannot be solved by
mathematics, for the simple reason that no quantitative values can
be assigned to the various factors, and because no mathematical
formula now exists that expresses their relations to each other. It
may be pointed out, however, that if a position be good, strength
and resources can be artificially supplied; and that the cost of
doing this, even on a tremendous scale, is relatively small compared
to the cost of the fleet which the base will support, and in distress
protect. In other words, we may be able to form an estimate of
the relative values of bases, say at Guantanamo and Culebra, even
if we cannot ascribe arithmetical values to each, and compare
arithmetically those arithmetical values. If, for instance, we see
that a fleet costing $500,000,000, would, if it operated from a
base at Culebra, be 10 per cent more effective than if it operated
from Guantanamo, and that it would cost $20,000,000 more to make a
strong base there than to make an equally strong one at Guantanamo,
we should conclude that, since 10 per cent of $500,000,000 is
$50,000,000, it would be wise to spend that $20,000,000, even if
we had to forego the building of one battlesbip.

We should come to the same conclusion, if we realized that no matter
what their comparative values might be, a base at one place would
not meet our necessities, and a base at the other place would. If
a base at Guantanamo would not meet our necessities in case of
an invasion of the Caribbean by a naval fleet superior to ours,
then it seems idle to discuss the value of Guantanamo relative to
some other place, no matter how good the position of Guantanamo
may be, and no matter how nearly it may approximate to adequacy.
There is no real usefulness in having a naval base anywhere, unless
that naval base can accomplish the purpose for which it is desired.
A naval base is desired for purposes of war, and for no other purpose
whatever; and to decide on a position for a base without keeping
this fact clearly in view, is to act on an underestimate of the
situation, the folly of which has been pointed out in previous
pages.

We may conclude, then, that in deciding on the place for a distant
permanent naval base, on which the operations of a whole fleet
are to base for war, we should select the best site available,
even if military strength and resources may have to be added to
it artificially--unless in the case of any site considered the
difficulties of adding them are insuperable.

The last sentence may seem like shirking the whole question, because
it does not state what "insuperable" means; so it may be well to add
that in modern days few engineering difficulties are insuperable, as
the existence of the fortress at Heligoland shows. If the submarine
and the mine did not exist, the difficulties would be greater than
they actually are; because guns alone, no matter how carefully mounted
and protected, could hardly be expected to keep off indefinitely the
attack of a heavy fleet, or even to save from injury the fighting
and auxiliary vessels anchored in its waters. But the submarine
and mine combine to keep fighting ships at distances greater than
those over which ship's guns can fire, and reduce the amount of
fortification required on shore.

One of the principal sources of expense in establishing bases at
some points would be that of dredging out harbors sufficiently
extensive, while harbors sufficiently extensive are provided already
by nature in such localities as Samana. But, as pointed out before,
harbors on large islands can be taken from the land side, as was
Port Arthur; and adequate protection from land attack is, in many
cases, almost impossible if the enemy has command of the sea, as
a superior hostile fleet would have in the Caribbean; while the
hills and waters of Culebra and Vieques Sound could long defy not
only actual invasion, but any fleet attack.

This brings us face to face with the fact that it may be less expensive
to establish and protect a naval base situated on a little island,
even if an artificial harbor has to be constructed, than to establish
and protect a base on a large island, even if the base on the large
island has a large natural harbor and can be more easily defended
against bombardment from the sea. It would be cheaper, for instance,
to protect a base on Culebra than one at Guantanamo, or even Samana,
if the enemy commanded the sea; and cheaper to protect a base on the
forbidding rocks of Polillo or Guam than on the large and fertile
island of Luzon, with its extensive gulfs and bays, in many of
which a fleet in command of the sea could land its force; because
protecting a base on a large island would require covering a very
large area, and perhaps a long extent of coast.

Aircraft may exercise an important influence on the choice of the
position of a base, perhaps in the direction of choosing a base on
a large island rather than on a small one; since the great speed of
aircraft tends to lessen the importance of having the base out a great
distance from home--so far as purposes of scouting are concerned.
It seems probable also that aircraft will soon be recognized as
inherently adapted to preventing the landing of hostile troops,
by dropping bombs on the troops, while they are in process of
disembarkation, while proceeding in small boats to the shore, and
while in the act of landing on the beach, with their guns, ammunition,
supplies, horses, and impedimenta of various kinds.

_Co-operating Bases_.--Discussion of the relative values of positions
for bases, say in the Caribbean, should not blind our eyes to the
fact, however, that no nation is prevented from establishing as
many bases as it needs, wherever its flag may float; that the United
States, for instance, is not debarred from establishing permanent
naval bases at both Guantanamo and Culebra, should such a procedure
seem desirable. The fact that each locality has advantages that the
other does not have, suggests the idea that two bases, placed in
those localities, would form a powerful combination. In fact, the
great value of the position of Culebra being its distance toward the
enemy, which necessitates a great distance away from our continental
coast, and a long line of communications from that coast suggest
an intermediate base as a support and stepping-stone. Analogous
cases are seen in all the countries of Europe, in the fortresses
that are behind their boundary-lines--the fortresses existing less
as individuals than as supporting members of a comprehensive scheme.

Two bases, one at Guantanamo and one at Culebra, would in time
of war in the Caribbean, add a value to our fleet that might make
the difference between defeat and victory. The effective work that
a fleet can do is a function of the material condition of the ships
themselves, and of the physical and mental condition of the personnel
that man them. Fighting is the most strenuous work that men can do;
it calls for the last ounce of strength, the last effort of the
intellect, the last struggle of the will; it searches out every
physical imperfection in men, in ships, in engines, in joints, in
valves. Surprise has sometimes been expressed at the quickness
with which the Japanese defeated the Russians at Tsushima; but would
any one express surprise if a pugilist, fresh from rest, quickly
defeated another pugilist who, exhausted from long travelling,
staggered hopelessly into the ring? And how would the betting be
before a football match, if it were known that one of the teams
would enjoy a rest of twenty-four hours before the game, whereas
the other team would walk from the railroad to the ball grounds
after a trip across the continent?

These analogies may seem forced--but are they? A living animal
requires hours of rest and refreshment, in order that the tissues
expended in action may be repaired by the internal mechanism of
the body, and the food consumed be supplied from some external
source. A fleet is in exactly the same category, even when operating
in times of peace: and in time of war it needs, in addition, a
station in which injuries may be repaired--a station analogous to
that of the hospital for wounded men.

In the Caribbean it would seem necessary to successful operations,
therefore, to have two bases, one say at Guantanamo and one at
Culebra; the one at Culebra to be the principal base, and the one
at Guantanamo the auxiliary. Culebra, by reason of the great work to
be accomplished, and the engineering difficulties to be encountered,
cannot be gotten ready for several years. Reliance, meanwhile,
will have to be placed on Guantanamo; and as the coming of any
war is not usually very long foretold, the urgency of fortifying
Guantanamo stands out in clear relief.

The mutual relations of Guantanamo and Culebra are much like the
mutual relations of Pearl Harbor in Hawaii and Guam--and so are
the joint relations of each pair to the mother country. Culebra
and Guam are the potential bases of the United States farthest away
from the coast in the Atlantic and the Pacific respectively; and
the nearest to countries in Europe and Asia with any one of which,
of course, war will be always possible, and sometimes probable.
Each is a small and rugged island, admitting of tremendous military
strengthening by guns, fortifications, mines, and submarines, but
connected to the motherland by a long line of communications. The
line of communications of Culebra would, of course, be safer than
that of Guam, because it is shorter than would be the line of an
enemy attacking it; whereas, the line of communications of Guam
would be longer. Guantanamo and Pearl Harbor are both stations about
half-way from the home country to Culebra and Guam respectively; and
though greater danger to our vital and commercial interests exists
in the Atlantic than in the Pacific, Pearl Harbor has been fortified,
and Guantanamo has not--and neither has Culebra. This sentence is
not intended as a criticism of the government for fortifying Pearl
Harbor. The Hawaiian Islands occupy the most valuable strategic
position in the Pacific, and Pearl Harbor is the most important
strategic place in the Hawaiian Islands; and it ought to have been
strengthened many years ago, and to a greater degree even than is
contemplated now. But the sentence is intended as a protest against
our continued inertness in failing to establish any suitable naval
bases whatever, especially in the Caribbean.

_Distant Base in the Philippines_.--The difficulty of finding suitable
positions for bases is exemplified in the Philippines, for no suitable
island is to be found there, except some that are within the archipelago
itself; and these are so placed that, to reach them, our fleet
would have to go through long reaches of water, ideally suited for
destroyer and submarine attack. A possible exception is the island
of Polillo, twenty miles east of the eastern coast of Luzon; and in
many ways Polillo seems ideal. The practical difficulties are so
great, however, the status of the islands in our national policy is
so ill defined, and the futility of strengthening it, unless Guam
be adequately strengthened also, is so apparent, that the question
has been hardly even mooted. Polillo made impregnable, with Guam
defenseless, supported by an undefended line of communications
several thousand miles long to the main country, would in case
of war with an active Asiatic power be reduced to the zero of
effectiveness in whatever was the length of time in which its
accumulated stores would be exhausted.

This sentence may be modified by saying that the time might be
lengthened by the occasional arrival of supply ships and colliers
that might come by way of the Mediterranean, or the Cape of Good
Hope, or any other route which approached the Philippines from
the southward; and it is possible that, in the unfortunate event
of a war between us and some Asiatic power, our relations with
European countries might be such as to make the use by us of such
routes feasible and safe. In view, however, of the conditions of
island possession in the Pacific as they actually are, and because
of the rapid and abrupt changes that characterize international
relations, the probability of being able to use such routes seems
too small to receive grave consideration.

_Other Bases in the Pacific_.--The Pacific Ocean is so vast, and
the interests of the United States there will some day be so great,
that the question of establishing naval bases, in addition to bases at
Pearl Harbor, the Philippines, and Guam, will soon demand attention.
The localities that are the most obvious are the Panama Canal Zone
and the Samoan Islands in the south, and the Aleutian Islands in
the north. A moderately far-seeing policy regarding the Pacific,
and a moderately far-seeing strategy for carrying out the policy,
would dictate the establishment and adequate protection of bases in
both the southern and the northern regions; so that our fleet could
operate without undue handicap over the long distances required.
The same principles that govern the selection of positions and
the establishment of bases in the Atlantic apply in the Pacific;
the same requirements that a base shall be near where the fleet
will conduct its operations--no matter whether those operations
be offensive or defensive, no matter whether they concern direct
attack or a threat against communications.

       *       *       *       *       *

In view of the great value of naval bases, one may be pardoned
perhaps for a feeling of surprise that the United States has no real
naval base, home or distant. Our large navy-yards are our nearest
approximation to real bases. The yards at Norfolk and Bremerton seem
to combine the three factors of position, strength, and resources
better than do any other stations; though both are surpassed in
resources by New York, Philadelphia, and Boston. Bremerton has
the greatest natural military strength of all our stations; in
fact, it is naturally very strong indeed, because of the length
and nature of the waterway leading to it from the sea and the ease
with which it could be denied. Norfolk is fortunate in its nearness
to Chesapeake Bay and Lynn Haven Roads, and the ease with which the
entrance to the Chesapeake from seaward could be defended; but the
fact that it is only 18 miles from the Atlantic coast-line makes it
more vulnerable than Bremerton to the attack of troops landed by
an enemy fleet. The yard at Mare Island, near San Francisco, is
faultily placed as regards deep water; but dredging could rectify
this. The Panama Canal Zone has great facilities for repairs, docking,
and supplies; but it must be adequately fortified in order to be
a trustworthy base in the case of operations in its vicinity.

New York, by reason of its enormous wealth of every kind, its steamer
terminals, and its excessively vulnerable position, within gunshot
of ships out in the deep water (a position without parallel in
the large cities of the world) must, of course, be protected. The
cheapest way to protect it is to do so locally, by means of
fortifications, and other shore defenses. The only other means
would be by a fleet permanently kept near New York, a measure that
would be expensive beyond reason.

In case the enemy should inform us that he would reach the vicinity
of New York at a certain time, and in case he should fulfil his
promise, the fact that New York was properly strengthened would
not be very important; since our fleet would go there, and the
whole war would be settled by one "stand-up fight." But wars are
not so conducted and never have been. From the oldest times till
now, and even among savage tribes, finesse has always been employed,
in addition to actual force--more perhaps by the weaker than by
the stronger side, but very considerably also by the stronger. A
coming enemy would endeavor to keep his objective a close secret,
and even to mislead us; so that our fleet would have to take a
position out at sea, perhaps far away, which would leave our bases
open to attack by the enemy fleet or at least exposed to raids.

The most effective local defense of a naval base is a combination
of mine-fields and heavy guns, which also give protection to which
the wounded vessels can retire, as the German vessels did after
the North Sea battle. Unless such protection be provided, swift
destroyers can complete the work that guns began, as the Japanese
destroyers did, after the artillery battle at Tsushima.

In addition to their value in defending navy-yards from raids,
and in giving wounded ships a refuge, the military strengthening
of home bases, if such home bases are wisely placed near large
commercial centres, prevents actual destruction of those commercial
centres themselves, in case an attack is made upon them, either
in the absence of the defending fleet, or after that fleet may
have been destroyed. The line of engineering advance during recent
years, although it has greatly increased the offensive power of
war-ships, has increased even more greatly the defensive power of
land works. For this reason, it is perfectly possible to defend
successfully almost any land position against attack by ships;
and it is so easy, that not to do so, is, in the case of large
commercial centres, a neglectfulness of the extremest character.

One important reason, therefore, for placing a permanent home base
near a large commercial centre is the fact that the fortification
of one is also the fortification of the other.

Assuming that New York is to be defended locally, we can state at
once that the New York naval station can easily be made to be a
permanent naval base of the highest order, and of the most efficient
type. In fact, it can be made into a naval base better than any other
now in the world, because of the large sheets of water tributary
to it in New York Bay, Hudson River, and Long Island Sound; the
proximity of the sea; the untold resources in money, supplies,
and men that it could on demand produce, and the ease with which
it could be defended. To make such a base, it would be necessary
to fortify the vicinity of Coney Island and the entrances from
the ocean to the Lower Bay, and Long Island Sound; to deepen the
channel to the navy-yard, and to make clear and safe the waterway
from the East River to Long Island Sound. It would be necessary
also to enlarge the navy-yard; and to this end, to buy back the land
adjoining it, which the government most unwisely sold to private
parties about twenty-five years ago.

Owing to the position of Block Island, relatively to the lines
of communication of a hostile force coming from Europe to attack
our eastern coast, and because of the sheltered waters held within
it, suitable for small craft, the advisability of establishing a
small naval base there is apparent. With a suitable base there
and another on Martha's Vineyard, and the present canal from
Massachusetts Bay to Buzzards Bay sufficiently enlarged, the whole
coast from Boston to New York, including Narragansett Bay, could
be made to form one naval base which would have three exits. Our
own ships could pass from one point to another, and concentrate
at will near Sandy Hook, Block Island, or Massachusetts Bay; and,
which is equally important, the establishment of an enemy base
near New York would be made almost, if not quite, impossible.

In case of an attack on our eastern coast, made directly from Europe,
which could be accomplished easily during the calm months of the
summer, the degree of efficiency shown by the bases at Norfolk,
Philadelphia, New York, and Boston would influence vitally the
condition in which our fleet would go to battle. Owing to the
traditional policy, or rather lack of policy, of the United States,
and the consequent unreadiness of our preparations, we may reasonably
assume that war will find us in such a condition that the utmost
haste will be necessary to get our whole naval force out to sea
in time to prevent the enemy from making an actual bombardment of
our shores. We have no reason to suppose that the ships actually
cruising in our active fleet will not be ready; we have every reason
to believe that they will be ready. But it is inconceivable that we
should not try to oppose such an attack with all the naval force
that we could muster; which means that we should try to send out
many ships from our home bases to join the active fleet at sea.

The ease with which the passage of an enemy's fleet up the Delaware
or Chesapeake could be prevented, in case any means of national
defense whatever be attempted, compared with the difficulty of
defending New York, and combined with the greater damage that an
enemy could inflict on New York, mark the vicinity of New York as
the probable objective of any determined naval attack upon our
coast; no matter whether that attack be made directly from Europe,
or indirectly from Europe by way of the Caribbean. To meet such
an attack, various parts of the fleet would have to issue from
their bases; even parts of the active fleet would probably have
had to go to their home ports for some needed repairs or supplies.
The first thought of an attacking fleet would naturally be to prevent
our ships from getting out, as it was the thought of Nelson and
other British commanders to prevent the issuing of forces from
the ports of France. But in view of the great distance from Europe
to our coast, and the impossibility of preventing the knowledge
reaching us of the departure of the fleet (unless indeed all the
powers of Europe combined to prevent it), it seems probable that
no such issuing could be prevented, and that a very considerable
American force would have time to take its station out at sea,
prepared to meet the coming foe.

The home bases if properly prepared would exert a powerful effect
on a battle near them by equipping the fleet adequately and promptly,
and also by preventing a possible defeat from becoming a disaster,
by receiving wounded ships before they sank. The wounded ships
of the enemy, on the other hand, would have no base near by, and
only those inconsiderably injured could probably be gotten home.




CHAPTER XII

OPERATING THE MACHINE

The naval machine, including the various vessels of all kinds,
the bases and the personnel, having been designed, put together,
and prepared for its appointed task of conducting war, and the
appointed task having at last been laid upon it, how shall the
machine be operated--how shall it be made successfully to perform
its task?

In order to answer this correctly, we must first see clearly what
is its task.

_War_.--War may be said to be the act of two nations or two sets
of nations, by means of which each tries to get its way by physical
force. The peaceful methods of diplomacy having been exhausted,
arguments and threats having been tried in vain, both parties resort
to the oldest and yet the latest court; the same court as that to
which resort the lions of the desert, the big and little fishes
of the sea, the fowls of the air, and even the blades of grass
that battle for the sunshine.

The vastness of the issue decided by war, the fact that from its
decision there is no appeal, the greatness of the forces that nations
can produce, the length of experience of war extending through
8,000 wars, and during more than three thousand years of recorded
history, the enormous literature of the subject, and the fact that
more brain power, energy, and character have been devoted to war
than to any other fruit of man's endeavor--combine to give to the
conduct of war an importance that no other subject can possess.

The thing that each side brings forward against the other side is
force; "that which moves or tends to move matter." In all ages, it
has been directed primarily against the physical bodies of individual
men, threatening each individual man with suffering and death. It
appeals to the primal instinct of men, self-preservation, and is
the _ultima ratio regum_, the last argument of kings--and not only
of kings, but of all other living things as well.

The first feeling aroused by the threat against life, or physical
well-being, is fear; and, therefore, the first force with which
to oppose the threat is a force of the same spiritual nature as
fear, but opposite in direction. This force is called in the English
language "courage." Without courage every man and every nation
would be at the mercy of every man or nation that made a threat
against it. The inherent necessity for courage is thus apparent;
and the reason is therefore apparent, for the fact that in every
nation and tribe physical courage has been esteemed the greatest
virtue in a man. In Latin, we know, the word _virtus_ meant courage,
and also virtue--showing that the Romans held the two qualities
to be identical or similar.

In discussing the operations of war, little is usually said of
courage. The reason, however, is not that its value is unrecognized,
but that its existence is assumed; in the same way as that in which
all the other faculties among the men are assumed, such as physical
health, ability to march, etc. Movements to inspire fear, however,
actions to break down the morale, are of frequent use; because,
if the morale of the opposing side is broken down, its power of
resistance is destroyed.

In the operations, therefore, of two contending parties, force is
opposed by force. If the forces on both sides could be concentrated
at a single point, and exerted in opposite directions, the result
would be decided in an instant. Such an arrangement has never yet
been brought about; though fairly close approximations have been
made, when two parties have selected two champions who have fought
for them--the victory going by agreement to the side whose champion
became the victor.

Barring such rare occasions, contests in war have usually been
between two forces spread over considerable areas of land or water;
and the contest has usually been decided by the defeat of one of
the two. If in any individual combat, all the forces possessed
by both sides had been engaged, and if either force had been
annihilated, the entire war between the two parties would have
been decided. This was nearly the case in the naval battle off
Tsushima between the Russian and Japanese fleets--and the treaty
of peace was signed soon after. Usually, however, neither party to
the quarrel has had all its forces on the field in any one battle,
and neither force in the battle has been annihilated. Usually,
only partial forces have been engaged, and only partial victories
have been won; with the result that wars between contending nations
have usually consisted of a series of battles, with intervals of
rest between.

If two opposing forces in any battle were exactly equal in fighting
power, neither side in any battle would gain a victory, the two
sides would inflict identical amounts of damage on each other, and
the two sides would end the battle still equal in force. At rare
intervals, such conditions have been approximated; but usually one
side has had more fighting power than the other, and has inflicted
more damage of various kinds than it has received, with the result
that it attained an advantage more or less important over the other,
and with the further result that the original disproportion between
the two forces was increased. The increase may not necessarily
have been due to a greater number of killed and wounded or even
to a greater loss of material, such as guns or ships; there may
have been no increase in inequality in either of these ways, for
the increase in inequality may have consisted in the fact that
the weaker force was driven to a position less advantageous to it
for conducting operations in the future. But whatever the nature
of the advantage gained by the stronger side, the result has been
that the weaker side has come out of the battle relatively weaker
than it was before.

For this reason, it is highly desirable to each side to win each
battle. This does not mean that the loss of any one battle by either
party to a war means that the party losing that battle will necessarily
lose the war; for many battles may be fought by such small portions
of the whole nations' forces, or be lost by such small margins that
the loss of one battle, or even several battles, may be retrieved;
in fact, in few wars have the victories been all on one side. It
does mean, however, that each lost battle is a backward step; and
that for this reason the effort must be that no battle shall be
lost.

_Strategy and Tactics_.--Now, to win battles, two things combine,
strategy and tactics. The strategy of each side tries to arrange
matters so that the forces on its side shall enter each battle
with the greatest chance of victory; tactics tries to handle the
forces with which it enters a battle in such a way that its side
shall gain the victory. Strategy prepares for battles; tactics
fights them.

The tactics of any battle must be in the hands of the
commanders-in-chief on both sides. Any other arrangement is
inconceivable; but the strategy controlling the series of battles
in any war cannot now be committed to them solely; though it was
usually committed to them until lately. In the days when Alexander
went to war, or even when Napoleon and Nelson went to war, twenty-one
centuries later, no telegraph by sea and land made swift communication
possible; and the commanders on the spot were the only ones in
possession of enough information about the contending forces to
decide what measures should be taken. Even in those days, however,
the capitals of the countries engaged in war, by reason of their
knowledge of what was passing in the way of policy, exerted an
influence on the strategy of the forces on both sea and land; Cæsar,
for instance, was embarrassed in many of his operations by the Roman
Senate, and it was for this reason that he crossed the Rubicon
and passed from Gaul into Italy. When William I and Napoleon III
went to war in 1870, however, Von Moltke had foreseen the effects
of the telegraph and of rapid-mail communications, in giving to the
headquarters of the army information of a much greater scope and
reliability than had previously been the case, and had established
a General Staff which had elaborated plans whereby not only would the
commanders-in-chief in the field have the assistance of information
compiled at headquarters, but whereby the general nature of the
operations of a war, especially those operations at the outset on
which the future conduct of the war would largely depend, would
be decided and laid down in advance and during times of peace. The
reason for the rapid victory of the Prussians over the French in
1870 was that the Prussians were better prepared in almost every
way; especially in the most important thing--the war plans.

Now, these war plans could not, of course, be of such a kind that
they would foresee every contingency and prescribe the conduct
to be followed, so that a commander in the field could turn to
page 221 of volume 755, and get directions as to what he ought to
do; nor could they furnish the chief of staff, Von Moltke, with
printed recommendations which he should offer to the King. In other
words, the war plans could be only plans and, like all plans for
future action, could be only tentative, and capable of being modified
by events as they should come to pass. They were only plans of
preparation, not plans of operation.

Yet there were plans of preparation for operations; plans prepared in
accordance with the principles of strategy, and based on information
as to the enemy's resources, skill, point of view, and probable
intentions. They formed the general guide for future operations.

Since 1870, the invention and practical development of the wireless
telegraph, and especially its development for use over very great
distances, has modified the relations of commanders on the spot
to home headquarters, and especially of naval commanders to their
navy departments. The wireless telegraph, under circumstances in
which it operates successfully, annihilates distance so far as
communication is concerned, though it does not annihilate distance
so far as transportation is concerned. It improves the sending and
receiving of news and instructions, both for the commander at sea
and for his department at home; but it does it more effectively
for the department than for the man at sea, because of the superior
facilities for large and numerous apparatus that shore stations
have, and their greater freedom from interruptions of all kinds.

This condition tends to place the strategical handling of all the
naval machine, including the active fleet itself, more in the hands
of the department or admiralty, and less in the hands of the
commander-in-chief: and this tendency is confirmed by the superior
means for discussion and reflection, and for trial by war games,
that exist in admiralties, compared with those that exist in ships.

The general result is to limit the commander-in-chief more and
more in strategical matters: to confine his work more and more to
tactics.

Such a condition seems reasonable in many ways. The government
decides on a policy, and tells the Navy Department to carry it
out, employing the executive offices and bureaus to that end, under
the guidance of strategy. Strategy devotes itself during peace to
designing and preparing the naval machine, and in war to operating
it, utilizing both in war and peace the bureaus and offices and
the fleet itself. And in the same way as that in which the bureaus
and offices perform the calculations and executive functions of
logistics, for furnishing the necessary material of all kinds, the
fleet performs those of tactics. From this point of view, strategy
plans and guides all the acts of navies, delegating one part of
the practical work needed to carry out those plans to logistics,
and the other part to tactics.

Operating the naval machine in war means practically operating
the active fleet in such a way as to cause victories to occur, to
cause the fleet to enter each battle under as favorable conditions
as practicable, and to operate the other activities of the navy in
such a way that the fleet will be efficiently and promptly supplied
with all its needs. Strategy employs tactics and logistics to bring
these things to pass; but this does not mean that strategy stands
apart and simply gives logistics and tactics tasks to do. The three
agencies are too mutually dependent for any such procedure and
require for their successful working, both individually and together,
the most thorough mutual understanding and support.

_Flanking, T-ing, etc._--It being a fact that no nation can put
a force upon the sea that is concentrated at one point; it being
a fact that every naval force must be spread over a considerable
area and made up of various parts, and that the efficacy of the
various parts in exerting force upon a definite enemy depends on
the unity of action of the various parts, it results that the most
effective way in which to attack any naval force is not to attack
all the parts at once, thus enabling all to reply, but to attack
the force in such a way that all the parts cannot reply. If we
attack a ship for instance, that can fire 10 guns on a broadside
and only 4 guns ahead, it is clear that we can do better by attacking
from ahead than from either side. Similarly, if 10 ships are in a
column, steaming one behind the other, each ship being able to
fire 10 guns from either side and only 4 ahead, the 10 ships can
fire 100 guns on either side and only 4 ahead; and therefore it
would be better to attack the column from ahead (to "T" it), than
to attack it from either side.

It is curious to note how widely this simple illustration can be
made to apply to both strategy and tactics; how the effort of each
is to dispose our force so toward the enemy's force that we can
use our weapons more effectively than he can use his. An extreme
illustration might be made by imagining 1,000 soldiers standing
in line and unable to face except to the front; in which case it
is clear that, no matter how perfectly they might be armed, or
how quickly and accurately they could fire, one man standing on
the flank, or behind them, could kill one soldier after the other,
until all the 1,000 were killed, and be in no danger himself.

In case of attacking a ship or a column of ships from ahead, or
of attacking a line of soldiers on the flank, the effectiveness of
the method of attack lies in the fact that a number of the weapons
that are present in the force attacked cannot be used in reply.

[Illustration: Fig. 1]

_Concentration and Isolation_.--The value of "concentration" is
often insisted on, but the author desires to call attention to
a misunderstanding on this point, to which he called attention
in an essay in 1905. To the author, it seems that concentration
is a means and not an end, and that the end is what he called
"isolation" in the essay. If a man concentrates his mind on any
subject, the advantage he gains is that he prevents other subjects
from obstructing the application of his mental powers to that subject;
he pushes to one side and isolates all other subjects. In this
particular activity it does not matter whether we call his act
"concentration" or "isolation" because the whole operation goes
on inside of his own skull, and concentration on one subject
automatically produces isolation or elimination of all others.
But when concentration is attempted on external objects, the case
is very different, for concentration may not produce isolation
at all. For instance, if 4 ships in column _A_ concentrate their
fire on the leading ship in column _B_, the other 3 ships in column
_B_ are not isolated, and can fire on the ships of column _A_,
even more effectively than if column _A_ was not concentrated on
the leading ship of _B_, because they are undisturbed by being
fired at. If, however, the 4 ships of _A_ "flank" or "T" the ships
of column _B_, as shown in Fig. 2, and concentrate on the leader of
B, they thereby isolate the other ships, and practically nullify
their ability to fire at _A_.

[Illustration: Fig. 2]

This effect is approximated by an approximate "T-ing" or "flanking,"
such as is shown in Fig. 3; because the average distance from the
ships of _A_ to the leading ship in _B_ is less than the average
distance from the ships in _B_ to any ship in _A_; and because the
direction of fire from each ship in _A_ is more nearly abeam than
is the direction of fire from the ships of _B_. These positions
are very difficult to gain, even if _A_'s speed is considerably
greater than _B's_; since all _B_ has to do to prevent it is to
head to the right, unless shoals or other dangers such as enemy
battleships, _C_, are on that side, co-operating with _A_.

[Illustration: Fig. 3]

An interesting position is that shown in Fig. 4, which may be assumed
by _A_, either for flight, or to get the advantage in torpedo fire.
The advantage is that the _A_ ships are running away from torpedoes
fired by _B_, while _B_ is running into torpedoes fired by _A_.
This advantage is not great if the distance between _A_ and _B_
is so little that _B's_ torpedoes can reach _A_. But if _A_ is
able to make this distance equal to the entire range over which
_B's_ torpedoes can run, or near it, _B's_ torpedoes cannot reach
_A_ at all.

[Illustration: Fig. 4]

A similar advantage, though in a modified degree, is that shown
as possessed by _A_ in Fig. 5. Due to the direction of movement
of the _A_ and _B_ fleets, it is easier for _A's_ torpedoes to
reach _B_, than for _B's_ torpedoes to reach _A_.

[Illustration: Fig. 5]

Positions of advantage are usually gained by superior speed. One
of the main reasons for the development of the battle cruiser has
been the fact that her high speed and great offensive power enable
her to gain positions of advantage and utilize them. The _A_ positions
shown in the figures are attainable by battle cruisers against
battleships, and are very effective.

A procedure analogous to that of flanking is one in which part
of a force is attacked when it is separated from the rest of the
force, and cannot be supported by it--in that some of the weapons of
one force cannot be used. The effect is similar in the two cases, but
the events leading up to the two conditions may be quite different.

In the former case, that of being flanked, or T'd, the force caught
at a disadvantage was together, and was able to operate effectively
as one force against a force located in a given direction; but
was attacked by a force located in another direction; while in
the latter case, the force was divided, and one part was caught,
while distant from and entirely unsupported by the other part. The
former condition is more likely to result from tactical operations,
and the latter from strategical operations--and yet, especially in
land operations, the flanking of one force may be brought about
by the carefully planned strategical combinations of the other
force; and catching one part of the enemy's force unsupported by
the other parts may take place during the tactical maneuvers of
an actual or a simulated battle.

In naval operations, the catching of separated parts of an enemy's
force is a more frequent attempt and accomplishment than is that
of getting a position where a column of ships can be attacked from
ahead or astern. It seldom happens, with the great number of vessels
of all kinds which compose a modern fleet, that it is practicable
to keep the various parts together, or that it would be desirable
to do so. The closest approximation to keeping a large naval force
together, is keeping them in column; because in that formation, the
ships can be made simply to "follow the leader" without signal, and
act like one long, flexible body. But the vessels of a modern fleet
would make a column many miles long--a column of 20 battleships alone
would be 5 miles long, and the addition of the various cruisers,
destroyers, and other vessels, would make a column so long that
it would be unwieldy; and if its ends were attacked, the other
vessels could not come to their relief. Besides, the duties of
battleships, battle cruisers, scouts, destroyers, and submarines,
are distinct--with the result that, as in land operations, bodies
of the various types operate separately and apart from those of
other types.

Not only, also, do the various types operate separately, but often
the necessities of a case demand that a certain number--say of
battleships--be sent away from the main body on some mission; or
that a certain number of destroyers be sent away from the main
body of destroyers.

Any such diversion entails a danger that is sometimes great, and
sometimes small; but such diversions and risks cannot be avoided,
and should not be avoided when they are necessary, any more than a
man should avoid going out of doors, though that act always entails
some danger. Suppose, for instance, that in the operations of a
war carried on in the Caribbean, the Navy Department should get
trustworthy information that the enemy had detailed 3 battle cruisers
to speed north and bombard New York. The department would probably
have to detach a force from the fleet and send it north, to prevent
the bombardment. Yet not only would the force so sent be in danger
until it returned of an attack by a superior force, but the main body
from which it was detached would be thereby weakened; furthermore, the
information might have been incorrect--it might have been originated
and given out by the enemy, in the hope that it would cause such a
diversion of force.

Every operation in war entails a risk more or less great; and if
no risks were to be taken, it would be better not to go to war.
It is true that some wars have been undertaken in which the
preponderance of force was so great that there was very little
doubt of the actual outcome, and very little risk taken by one of
the two parties. Such wars, however, have been very few; and they
were hardly wars in the usual sense, any more than the beating of
a little boy by a big boy could properly be called a "fight."

Reference may again be made here to Table I on next page, which
shows the way in which fights between unequal forces proceed, and
the advantage of fighting the separated parts of an enemy rather
than the united force. We can see this clearly if we note that, if
two forces each aggregating 1,000 were in each other's vicinity,
and if the entire force _A_ was able to engage half of _B_, or
500, it would whip half of _B_, and have 841 remaining, with which
to engage the other half (500) of _B_. Reference to the end of
the third period in this table shows also that if a force of 789
engages a force of 523, it will have 569 left, after the other
has been reduced to zero. So, a force of 1,000 that engages two
forces of 500 separately, will have more than 500 left, after the
others have both been reduced to zero: whereas, if it engages both,
when they are united, both sides will be gradually reduced to zero,
remaining equal all the time.

                                    TABLE I
 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------
|                          |Col.|Col.|Col.|Col.|Col.|Col.|Col.|Col.|Col.|Col.|
|                          |  1 |  2 |  3 |  4 |  5 |  6 |  7 |  8 |  9 | 10 |
|----------------------------------------------------------------------------|
|Value of offensive power A|1000|1000|1000|1000|1000|1000|1000|1000|1000|1000|
|  at beginning           B|1000| 900| 800| 700| 600| 500| 400| 300| 200| 100|
|Damage done in 1st       A| 100| 100| 100| 100| 100| 100| 100| 100| 100| 100|
|  period                 B| 100|  90|  80|  70|  60|  50|  40|  30|  20|  10|
|Value of offensive power A| 900| 910| 920| 930| 940| 950| 960| 970| 980| 990|
|  at end of 1st period   B| 900| 800| 700| 600| 500| 400| 300| 200| 100|   0|
|Damage done in 2nd       A|  90|  91|  92|  93|  94|  95|  96|  97|  98|    |
|  period                 B|  90|  80|  70|  60|  50|  40|  30|  20|  10|    |
|Value of offensive power A| 810| 830| 850| 870| 890| 910| 930| 950| 970|    |
|  at end of 2nd period   B| 810| 709| 608| 507| 406| 305| 204| 103|   2|    |
|Damage done in 3rd       A|  81|  83|  85|  87|  89|  91|  93|  95|    |    |
|  period                 B|  81|  71|  61|  51|  41|  31|  20|  10|    |    |
|Value of offensive power A| 729| 759| 789| 819| 849| 879| 910| 940|    |    |
|  at end of 3rd period   B| 729| 626| 523| 420| 317| 214| 111|   8|    |    |
|Damage done in 4th       A|  73|  76|  79|  82|  85|  88|  91|    |    |    |
|  period                 B|  73|  63|  52|  42|  32|  21|  11|    |    |    |
|Value of offensive power A| 656| 696| 737| 777| 817| 858| 899|    |    |    |
|  at end of 4th period   B| 656| 550| 444| 338| 232| 126|  20|    |    |    |
|Damage done in 5th       A|  65|  70|  74|  78|  82|  86|    |    |    |    |
|  period                 B|  65|  55|  44|  34|  23|  13|    |    |    |    |
|Value of offensive power A| 591| 641| 693| 743| 794| 845|    |    |    |    |
|  at end of 5th period   B| 591| 480| 370| 260| 150|  40|    |    |    |    |
|Damage done in 6th       A|  59|  64|  69|  74|  79|  85|    |    |    |    |
|  period                 B|  59|  48|  37|  26|  15|   4|    |    |    |    |
|Value of offensive power A| 532| 593| 656| 717| 779| 841|    |    |    |    |
|  at end of 6th period   B| 532| 416| 301| 186|  71|   0|    |    |    |    |
|Damage done in 7th       A|  53|  59|  66|  72|  78|    |    |    |    |    |
|  period                 B|  53|  42|  30|  19|   7|    |    |    |    |    |
|Value of offensive power A| 479| 551| 626| 698| 772|    |    |    |    |    |
|  at end of 7th period   B| 479| 357| 235| 114|   0|    |    |    |    |    |
|Damage done in 8th       A|  48|  55|  63|  70|    |    |    |    |    |    |
|  period                 B|  48|  36|  24|  11|    |    |    |    |    |    |
|Value of offensive power A| 431| 515| 602| 687|    |    |    |    |    |    |
|  at end of 8th period   B| 431| 302| 172|  44|    |    |    |    |    |    |
|Damage done in 9th       A|  43|  52|  60|  69|    |    |    |    |    |    |
|  period                 B|  43|  30|  17|   4|    |    |    |    |    |    |
|Value of offensive power A| 388| 485| 585| 683|    |    |    |    |    |    |
|  at end of 9th period   B| 388| 250| 112|   0|    |    |    |    |    |    |
|Damage done in 10th      A|  39|  49|  59|    |    |    |    |    |    |    |
|  period                 B|  39|  25|  11|    |    |    |    |    |    |    |
|Value of offensive power A| 349| 460| 574|    |    |    |    |    |    |    |
|  at end of 10th period  B| 349| 201|  53|    |    |    |    |    |    |    |
|Damage done in 11th      A|  35|  46|  57|    |    |    |    |    |    |    |
|  period                 B|  35|  20|   5|    |    |    |    |    |    |    |
|Value of offensive power A| 314| 440| 569|    |    |    |    |    |    |    |
|  at end of 11th period  B| 314| 155|   0|    |    |    |    |    |    |    |
|Damage done in 12th      A|  31|  44|    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |
|  period                 B|  31|  16|    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |
|Value of offensive power A| 283| 426|    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |
|  at end of 12th period  B| 283| 111|    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |
|                          |    |etc.|    |    |    |    |    |    |    |    |
|Total damage done by     A| 717| 789| 800| 700| 600| 500| 400| 300| 200| 100|
|                         B| 717| 574| 431| 317| 228| 159| 101|  60|  30|  10|
 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------

It is interesting to note how this simple fact is the key to most
of the operations of strategy and tactics; how--the mechanical
tools in the way of ships and guns and torpedoes having been
supplied--the key to their successful use is simply to take advantage
of all opportunities of isolating one part of the enemy's force
from the rest, and then attacking one of the parts with a force
superior to it. Opportunities lacking, one must, of course, try
to create opportunities by inducing the enemy to detach some part
of his force, under circumstances such that you can attack it,
or the weakened main body, with a superior force. Naturally, one
must try to prevent a similar procedure by the enemy.

This does not mean that the sole effort of naval operations is
finesse in either strategy or tactics; sometimes the sole effort
is to force a pitched battle by the side that feels superior, and
to avoid a pitched battle by the side that feels inferior. Before
the actual inferiority or superiority has been ascertained, however,
the strategy of each commander is to bring about a situation in
which his force shall have the advantage. The advantage having
been gained and recognized (or an advantage existing and being
recognized), strategy insists on forcing a battle, for the reason
that _every contest weakens the loser more than it does the winner_.

This does not mean that it is always wise to engage a weaker force
that is temporarily separated from its main body. It is readily
understandable, for instance, that it would be unwise in two cases:

1. A case in which the weaker force were so little weaker, and
were part of a force so much larger than the total of the smaller
force, that the gain as between the two forces actually engaged
would not be great enough to compensate for the loss entailed.
For instance, a reference to Table I shows that an _A_ force of
1,000 engaging a _B_ force of 800 would have 569 left when _B_ was
reduced to zero. This is impressive: but if the _B_ force of 800
were part of a total _B_ force of 2,000, in other words if there
were an _A_ force of 1,200 near at hand, _B_ would have 569 left
with which to oppose 1,200, a proportion a little less advantageous
than the proportion he started with--1,000 to 2,000.

2. A case by which the _B_ force may have divided with the express
purpose of luring _A_ to attack; arrangements having been made
whereby the inferior _B_ force would simply hold the _A_ force
until the whole _B_ force could come to its assistance; arrangements
having been also made that this would be accomplished before the
detached part of _B_ should get very badly damaged.

Attention is invited to Table III, which is a continuation of Table
I. It represents what would happen if a force of 1,000 should fight
separately two forces, one of 800 and the other of 200. In column
1, _A_ is supposed to have engaged the 200 first, and so to have
become reduced to 970, and to engage 800 afterward. In column 2,
_A_ is supposed to have engaged 800 first, thereby becoming reduced
to 569, and then to engage the 200 force. The table indicates that
it makes no difference whether _A_ engages the stronger or the
weaker force first.

Column 3 shows that a force of 841, the part remaining after a
force of 1,000 had annihilated a force of 500, would have 653 left
after annihilating a second force of 500. Taken in connection with
columns 1 and 2, this indicates that it is easier to defeat two
separated _equal_ forces than two separated _unequal_ forces of the
same aggregate value; that the weakest way in which to divide a force
is into _equal_ parts. This fact is mathematically demonstrated by
Mr. F. W. Lanchester in a recent book called "Air Craft in Warfare."

                               TABLE III
 -------------------------------------------------------------------
|                                             |Col. 1|Col. 2|Col. 3|
|---------------------------------------------|------|------|------|
|Value of offensive at beginning             A|  970 |  569 |  841 |
|                                            B|  800 |  200 |  500 |
|Damage done in 1st period by                A|   97 |   57 |   84 |
|                                            B|   80 |   20 |   50 |
|Value of offensive power at end 1st period  A|  890 |  549 |  791 |
|                                            B|  703 |  143 |  416 |
|Damage done in 2d period by                 A|   89 |   55 |   79 |
|                                            B|   70 |   14 |   42 |
|Value of offensive power at end 2d period   A|  820 |  535 |  749 |
|                                            B|  614 |   88 |  337 |
|Damage done in 3d period by                 A|   82 |   54 |   75 |
|                                            B|   61 |    0 |   34 |
|Value of offensive power at end 3d period   A|  759 |  526 |  715 |
|                                            B|  532 |   32 |  262 |
|Damage done in 4th period by                A|   76 |   53 |   72 |
|                                            B|   53 |    3 |   26 |
|Value of offensive power at end 4th period  A|  706 |  523 |  689 |
|                                            B|  456 |    0 |  190 |
|Damage done in 5th period by                A|   71 |      |   69 |
|                                            B|   46 |      |   10 |
|Value of offensive power at end 5th period  A|  660 |      |  670 |
|                                            B|  385 |      |  121 |
|Damage done in 6th period by                A|   66 |      |   67 |
|                                            B|   39 |      |   12 |
|Value of offensive power at end 6th period  A|  621 |      |  658 |
|                                            B|  319 |      |   54 |
|Damage done in 7th period by                A|   62 |      |   66 |
|                                            B|   32 |      |    5 |
|Value of offensive power at end 7th period  A|  589 |      |  653 |
|                                            B|  257 |      |    0 |
|Damage done in 8th period by                A|   59 |      |      |
|                                            B|   26 |      |      |
|Value of offensive power at end 8th period  A|  563 |      |      |
|                                            B|  198 |      |      |
|Damage done in 9th period by                A|   56 |      |      |
|                                            B|   20 |      |      |
|Value of offensive power at end 9th period  A|  543 |      |      |
|                                            B|  142 |      |      |
|Damage done in 10th period by               A|   54 |      |      |
|                                            B|   14 |      |      |
|Value of offensive power at end 10th period A|  529 |      |      |
|                                            B|   88 |      |      |
|Damage done in 11th period by               A|   53 |      |      |
|                                            B|    9 |      |      |
|Value of offensive power at end 11th period A|  520 |      |      |
|                                            B|   35 |      |      |
|Damage done in 12th period by               A|   52 |      |      |
|                                            B|    4 |      |      |
|Value of offensive power at end 12th period A|  516 |      |      |
|                                            B|    0 |      |      |
 ------------------------------------------------------------------

The main advantage of superior speed in naval operations is the
ability it gives to secure tactical positions of advantage, and
to make desirable strategic dispositions; ability, for instance,
to T or flank an enemy force, and to prevent the enemy from T-ing
or flanking; also to catch separated parts of an enemy fleet before
they can unite, while retaining the ability to divide one's own
force without undue risk. For these purposes, speed is an element
of the highest value; but the high price that it costs in gun power
or armor protection--or both--and the fact that speed cannot always
be counted on by reason of possible engine breakdowns and foul
bottoms, result in giving to war-ships a lower speed than otherwise
they would have.

Owing to the fact that, for any given horse-power put into a ship,
the speed attainable increases with her length; and owing to the
further fact that the weight that any ship can carry increases
more rapidly than the displacement (weight of the ship complete),
the best combination of gun power, armor protection, and speed is
attainable in the largest ship. In other words, the larger the
ship, the more power it can carry in proportion to its size, and
the more quickly that power can be placed where it can do the most
good.

_Strategic Operations_.--These may be divided into two classes,
offensive and defensive. The two classes are distinct; and yet there
is no sharp dividing-line between them any more than there is between
two contiguous colors in the spectrum. Defensive operations of the
kind described by a popular interpretation of the word "defense" would
be operations limited to warding off or escaping the enemy's attack,
and would be just as efficacious as the passive warding off of the
blows of fists. Such a defense can never succeed, for the reason
that the recipient is reduced progressively in power of resistance
as the attacks follow each other, while the attacker remains in
unimpaired vigor, except for the gently depressing influence of
fatigue. Reference to Table I will render this point clear, if we
make the progressive reductions of the power of one contestant,
and no reductions of the power of the other contestant.

Defensive operations, therefore, include "hitting back"; that is,
a certain measure of offensive operations, intended to weaken the
ability of the enemy to do damage. In fact, no operations are more
aggressively offensive, or more productive of damage to the enemy's
personnel and material, than operations that are carried on in order
to defend something. No animal is so aggressively belligerent as
a female "defending" her young.

Offensive and defensive operations are nevertheless quite different,
especially in two particulars, one being the use of the initiative
or attack, and the other the distance to the home. In offensive
operations, the attack is made; in defensive operations, the attack
is resisted; and even if the resistance takes an aggressive character,
and drives the original attacker back to the place he started from, yet
the side which has made the original attack has carried on offensive
operations, and the other side defensive. Offensive operations are,
as a rule, carried on farther from home than defensive operations. If
_A_ is carrying on offensive operations against _B_, _A_ is usually
farther away from his home than _B_ is from his home. We see from
this that the offensive has the advantage of the initiative, of
making an attack for which the enemy may be unprepared, and has
the disadvantage of being far from its home bases; whereas the
defensive has the disadvantage of not knowing when or where or
whence an attack is to come, and the advantage of the support of
various kinds given by home bases. In other words, the offensive
has the advantage except in so far as it is impaired by unfavorable
conditions.

For this reason, every military nation at the outset of war desires
to be able to assume the offensive; and only refrains from the
offensive from motives of prudence or because, in a particular
case, the distance between the adversaries is so great, that the
lack of bases would be of greater weight than the advantage of the
initiative--or because the situations of the contending parties would
be such that the side accepting the defensive rôle and staying near
home, might be able to carry on aggressive attacks better than could
the other. An illustration of a mistake in taking the offensive,
and the wisdom of the other side in accepting the defensive, may be
seen in Napoleon's expedition against Russia; for the Russians were
able to repel his attack completely, and then to assume a terrible
offensive against his retreating, disorganized, and starving army.
Another illustration was the expedition made by a weak Spanish fleet
under Cervera to the Caribbean in 1898. Another illustration was
that of the Russians in the war of 1904; the practical disadvantages
under which the Russian fleet operated at Tsushima were too great
to be balanced by the advantage of the attack; especially as the
situation was such that the Japanese were able to foretell with
enough accuracy for practical purposes the place where the attack
would be delivered, and the time.

Operations on the sea, like operations on the land, consist in
opposing force to force, in making thrusts and making parries.
If two men or two ships contend in a duel, or if two parallel
columns--say of ten ships each--are drawn up abreast each other,
the result will depend mainly on the hitting and enduring powers of
the combatants; the conditions of the "stand-up fight" are realized,
and there is little opportunity for strategy to exert itself.

But if any country--say the United States--finds herself involved
in war with--say a powerful naval Power or Powers of Europe, and the
realization of the fact comes with the suddenness that characterized
the coming of war in August, 1914, and we hear the same day that
a fleet of battleships, battle cruisers, destroyers, submarines,
aircraft, and auxiliaries has left the enemy's country, followed
by a fleet of transports carrying troops--there will be immediate
need for strategy of the most skilful kind; and this need will
continue until either the United States or her enemy has been made
to acknowledge herself beaten, and to sue for peace.

As such a war will be mainly naval, and as naval wars are characterized
by great concentration of force, by each side getting practically
all its naval force into the contest, by each side staking its
all on the issue of perhaps a single battle (as the Russians and
Japanese did at Tsushima) one fleet or the other will be practically
annihilated, and its country will be exposed naked to the enemy.

The first effort on hearing of the departure of the hostile fleet
will be, of course, to get our fleet out to sea, reinforced as much
as practicable, by our reserve ships; and to get the coast-guard
on their patrol stations. As we should not know the destination
of the enemy, we should either have to assume a destination and
send our fleet to that place (leaving the other places undefended)
or else send our fleet out to sea to some position from which it
would despatch scouts in different directions to intercept the
enemy, in order that our fleet might meet it and prevent its farther
advance.

Of course, the latter procedure could not be carried out reasonably,
unless we had a great enough number of trained scouts to make the
interception of the enemy fleet probable; because otherwise the
probabilities would be that an enemy having the battle cruisers
and scouts that European navies have, would succeed in evading
our fleet and landing a force upon our shores; and it could not
be carried out reasonably either, if we knew that our fleet was
markedly inferior to the coming fleet; because to send out our
fleet to meet a much more powerful one in actual battle would be
to commit national suicide by the most expeditious method.

In case the departure of the enemy fleet occurred in the stormy
months of the winter, we might feel warranted in guessing that its
immediate destination was the Caribbean; yet if our fleet were in
the Caribbean at the time, and if our coast lacked shore defenses as
at present, we might argue that the enemy would take the opportunity
to make a direct descent upon our coast, seize a base--say on the
eastern end of Long Island--and march directly on New York. It
would be very difficult to plan the development of a line of scouts
in such a way that the scouts would intercept an attack directed
at some unknown point between Boston and the West Indies, perhaps
in the southern part of the West Indies--say Margarita Island.
In fact, it would be impossible; with the result that, unless we
intercepted it by simple good luck, the enemy would succeed in
landing a force on our eastern coast, or else in the seizing of
a base in the West Indies or the southern part of the Caribbean
Sea.

Either one of these acts, successfully performed by an enemy, would
give him an advantage; that is, it would make his position relatively
to ours better than it was before. It would have the same effect,
therefore, as winning a battle; in fact it would constitute the
winning of a battle--not a physical battle but a strategic battle.

It may be objected that, unless we knew our fleet to be more powerful
it would be wiser and more comfortable for all concerned to withdraw
our ships to the shelter of their bases, and let the enemy do his
worst--on the theory that he could not do anything else so ruinous
to us as to sink our fleet.

There is of course considerable reasonableness in this point of
view; and strategy declares the unwisdom of engaging in battles
that are sure to be lost. It must be remembered, however, that the
coming fleet will operate at a considerable strategic disadvantage,
owing to the necessity for guarding the "train" of auxiliary ships
that will come with it, holding fuel and supplies of various kinds;
that this handicap will offset a considerable advantage in offensive
strength; and that the handicap will be still greater if the enemy
fleet have near it a flotilla of transports carrying troops. It
must be remembered also that in all probability, we should not
have detailed information as to the number of vessels coming, and
should not really know whether it was superior to ours or not:
though we should be justified in assuming that the coming fleet
believed itself to be superior to ours in actual fighting power.
Absence of trustworthy information on such points is usual in warfare,
and is one of the elements that is the most difficult to handle.
The Navy Department would be more able to form a correct estimate
on this point than the commander-in-chief until such time as our
scouts might come into absolute contact with the enemy's main body;
but, until then, all that the department and fleet would know would
be that a large hostile force had left Europe. They would not know
its size or destination.

Clearly, the first thing we should need would be information. To
get this after war has broken out, the only means is scouts.

_Scouting and Screening_.--Scouts are needed by every navy; but
they are most needed by a navy that has a very long coast-line to
protect. If the great commercial centres and the positions that
an enemy would desire for advanced bases along the coast, have
local defenses adequate to keep off a hostile fleet for, say, two
weeks, the urgency of scouts is not quite so absolute; since, even
if the hostile fleet evades our scouts and our fleet, and reaches
our shores, our fleet will have two weeks in which to get to the
place attacked. But if the coast is not only long but also unguarded
by shore defenses, the urgency is of the highest order.

If we knew our fleet to be the weaker, but if we did not believe it
to be so much the weaker as to force it to seek safety in flight,
our natural plan would be that of Napoleon's in Italy in 1797--to
keep our force together, and to hurl it against detached parts
of the enemy's force, whenever possible. This plan might not be
difficult of execution, if the enemy were accompanied by his train
of auxiliary and supply ships; since such ships are vulnerable to
almost any kind of attack, have almost no means of defense whatever,
and therefore require that a part of the fighting force of the
main body be detached to guard them. Whether the enemy would have
his train quite close to him, or a day's steaming behind, say 240
miles, we should not, of course, know.

How could we ascertain?

If the enemy came along with no scouts ahead, and if we happened
to have some scouts located along his line of advance, these scouts
faster than his ships, and so heavily armed as not to fear to venture
near, our scouts might proceed along the flank of the enemy in
daylight, pass along his rear, go entirely around him, and then
report to our commander-in-chief by wireless telegraph exactly what
craft of all kinds comprised the force, what formation they were
in, the direction in which they were steaming, and the speed. Such
information would be highly appreciated by our commander-in-chief,
as it would enable him to decide what he had better do. If, for
instance, the scouts reported that the enemy fleet were steaming
at a speed of 10 knots an hour, and that the train was proceeding
behind the fighting fleet without any guards of any kind around
them, our commander-in-chief might decide to keep just out of sight
until after dark, and then rush in with all his force of heavy
ships and torpedo craft, and destroy the train entirely.

But suppose the enemy fleet should advance with a "screen" consisting
of a line 10 miles long of, say, 50 destroyers, 50 miles ahead of
the main body; followed by a line of, say, 10 battle cruisers,
25 miles behind the destroyers; and with destroyers and battle
cruisers on each flank--say, 20 miles distant from the main body.
How could our scouts find out anything whatever about the size,
composition, and formation of the enemy--even of his speed and
direction of advance? The purpose of the "screen" is to prevent our
ascertaining these things; and each individual part of the screen
will do its best to carry out that purpose. All the vessels of the
screen and of the main body will be equipped with wireless-telegraph
apparatus and a secret code, by means of which instant communication
will be continuously held, the purport of which cannot be understood
by our ships. Any endeavor of any of our scouts to "penetrate the
screen" will be instantly met by the screen itself, out of sight of
the enemy's main body; and the screen cannot be penetrated in the
daytime, unless we can defeat those members of the screen that try
to hold us off. Now, inasmuch as all the considerable naval Powers
of Europe have many battle cruisers, and we have no battle cruisers
whatever, and no scouts of any kind, except three inefficient ones
(the _Birmingham_, _Chester_, and _Salem_) the degree of success
that we should have penetrating the screen in the daytime can be
estimated by any lawyer, merchant, or schoolboy.

The Laws of successful scouting and of the use of "search curves"
have been worked out mathematically, and they are used to find
an enemy of which one has certain information; but they are also
used by the enemy to avoid being found, and they aid the enemy that
is sought almost as much as they aid the seeker. And the sought
has the advantage that the use of force, if force can be employed,
breaks up the application of the mathematics of the seeker.

It is true that two main bodies of two fleets may stumble against
each other in the night-time, or in a fog or heavy mist. To prevent
this possible occurrence, or to prevent a night attack by destroyers,
no sure means has yet been found except examination before dark of
a very large area around the fleet that is sought; but the area
is too great for a search rigid enough to give complete security,
and will probably be so until swift aircraft can scout over long
distances at sea. Accepting for the minute the convention that
the main body of each side goes at the cruising speed of 10 knots,
and that darkness lasts 12 hours, each side will go 120 miles in
darkness; and if the two main bodies happen to be going directly
toward each other they will approach 240 miles in the darkness of
one night. Therefore, a coming fleet, in order to feel entirely
safe, would in daylight have to inspect by its scouts a circle
of 120 miles radius. To insure safety against destroyer attack,
the area would have to be much greater on account of the greater
speed of destroyers.

[Illustration]

Unless our defending fleet knew with reasonable sureness, however,
the location, speed, and direction of motion of the coming fleet,
so that it could make its dispositions for attack, it would hardly
desire to meet the enemy at night, unless it were confident that
it would meet the train and not the main fleet or the destroyers.
Night attacks, both on sea and land, are desirable, if the attacker
can inflict surprise on the attacked, and not be surprised himself.
In the darkness a flotilla of destroyers may make an attack on
the various vulnerable colliers and supply vessels of a fleet,
or even on the main body, and achieve a marked success, because
that is the rôle they are trained to play. But the tremendous power
and accuracy of battleships cannot be utilized or made available
in darkness; and therefore a commander-in-chief, anxious to defeat
by superior skill a coming fleet larger than his own, would hardly
throw away all chance of using skill by risking his main body in a
night encounter. Every operation planned by strategy is supposed
to result from the "decision" which follows the estimate of the
situation; even if in some simple or urgent cases, the decision
is not laboriously worked out, but is almost unconscious and even
automatic. Now, it is hardly conceivable that any estimate of the
situation would be followed by a decision to go ahead and trust to
luck, except in very desperate circumstances. In such circumstances,
when hope is almost gone, a desperate blow, even in the dark, may
save a situation--as a lucky hand at cards may redeem a gambler's
fortune at even the last moment. But strategy is opposed to taking
desperate measures; and pugilists and even gamblers recognize the
fact that when a man becomes "desperate," his judgment is bad,
and his chances of success are almost zero.

While it is possible, therefore, that the main bodies of hostile
fleets may come together in the night, we may assume that it will
not be as part of any planned operations, and therefore not within
the scope of this discussion; and that any combat which may result
will be one in which strategy will play no part, and in which even
tactics will yield first place to chance.

But while our defending fleet will have to base most of its decisions
on guesses, the coming fleet, on the other hand, having accepted
the strategical disadvantage of leaving its base far in rear, will
advance with all the advantage of the offensive, especially in
knowing where it intends to go and what it desires to do. Coming
over on a definite mission it will have been able to know what
preparations to make; and as the naval Powers of Europe understand
the need of co-ordination between policy and strategy, the fleet
will doubtless have had time to make those preparations; it will
not have started, in fact, and war will not have been declared,
until all those preparations have been made.

We may assume that the coming fleet will come across with all possible
precautions for protecting itself against detection by the defender's
scouts, and therefore against an unexpected attack, by night or by
day. It cannot receive an unexpected attack unless surprised; and
how can it be surprised, if it has more scouts, faster scouts, and
more powerfully armed scouts than the defending fleet has?

The possession of the more powerful scouts, however, will be valuable
to the enemy, not only for forming a screen as a protection against
enemy scouts, but also for scouting and thereby getting information
for itself. A numerous squadron of scouts of different kinds, sent
out ahead and on each flank would see any of our scouts that saw
them; and the scouts that were the more powerful would force the
weaker scouts back to the arms of their own main body, toward which
the more powerful scouts would, of course, advance. The weaker
scouts, therefore, would have no value whatever as a screen, save
in retarding the advance of the stronger scouts, and in delaying
their getting information.

If the coming fleet is more powerful than the defending fleet, and
has a more numerous and powerful scouting force, it will, therefore,
be able to push back the defending fleet, whether an actual battle
occurs or not; and it will be able to bring over, also, a large
invading force in transports if its fighting superiority be great
enough. Furthermore, if we have not fortified and protected the
places which the enemy would wish to seize and use as advanced naval
bases, the enemy will be able to seize them, and will doubtless
do so.

Of course, this is so obvious as to seem hardly worth declaring;
and yet some people hesitate even to admit it, and thereby they
assume a passive condition of moral cowardice; for they know that
a strong force has always overcome a weaker force that opposed
it in war; and that it always will do so, until force ceases to
be force. They know that force is that which moves, or tends to
move, matter; and that the greater the force, the more surely it
will move matter, or anything that opposes it.

If, however, we establish naval bases near our valuable commercial
and strategic ports, both on our coast and in the Caribbean, and if
we fortify them so that an enemy could not take them quickly, the
condition of the enemy fleet will be much less happy; because it
will have to remain out on the ocean, where fuelling and repairing
are very difficult, and where it will be exposed, day and night,
especially at night, to attack by destroyers and submarines; and
in case necessity demands the occasional division of the force,
it must beware of attacks on the separated portions of the fleet.
The condition of a large fleet under way on an enemy's coast is one
requiring much patience and endurance, and one in which the number
of vessels is liable to be continuously reduced by the guerilla
warfare of the defenders.

In the case of our attempting offensive operations against the
distant coast of an enemy, we would be in the same position as a
foreign enemy would be in when attacking our coast, in that our
chances of success would be excellent if our fleet were considerably
superior to the defending fleet in fighting power, and in the number
and strength of scouts, and if the enemy coast possessed numerous
undefended bays and islands which we could seize as bases. But even
if the superiority of our fleet in fighting power and scouts was
considerably greater than the enemy's our ultimate success would
be doubtful, if the enemy's coast and islands were so protected
by guns and mines and submarines that we could not get a base near
the scene of operations. It is true that the British were able to
maintain blockades of the French coast during many weary months
without any base nearer than England--a place far away to ships
whose only motive power was sails; but destroyers and submarines
and mines did not then exist, and these agencies are much more
valuable to the defender than to the blockader who has no base at
hand.

Our operations without a base on a distant enemy coast would be
apt to degenerate into warding off a continual series of more or
less minor attacks by the minor craft of the defender. The commander
of our fleet would be constrained to keep his fighting force pretty
close together, thus restricting his initiative; lest the entire
enemy fleet catch a detached part out of supporting distance of
the main body, and annihilate it with little loss to themselves.
We could probably shut off most of the enemy's sea-borne commerce;
and the war would become one of endurance between our fleet, on
the one hand, and the economic forces and the morale of the enemy
country on the other hand.

In the case of operations carried on far away from the bases of both
fleets, operations like those that the French and British carried on
in the West Indies, the commanders-in-chief will naturally be much
less directed by the admiralties at home than will a commander-in-chief
operating near home; and the strategical advantage, as affected
by the proximity of bases, and by the possession of the better
chance for the initiative, will be reduced to its minimum.

Of course, the victory will go to the more powerful force; but
so many factors go to make up power, that it may be difficult to
determine which is the more powerful, until after victory itself
shall have decided it. Supposing the skill to be equal on both
sides, the victory will go to the side that possesses the most
numerous and powerful vessels of all kinds. But unless there is a
very great disproportion, it may be difficult to determine which
side has the more powerful ships, even though we may know which
side has the more numerous. It is extremely difficult to compare
even two single war-ships because we do not know the relative values
of their factors. Suppose two ships, for instance, to be equal
in all ways, except that one ship has ten 14-inch guns, and the
other has twelve 12-inch guns of higher initial velocity. Which is
the more powerful ship? Suppose one ship has more armor, another
more speed. Formulæ designed to assign numerical values to fighting
ships have been laboriously worked out, notably by Constructor Otto
Kretschmer of the German navy; but the results cannot be accepted
as anything except very able approximations. Furthermore, if ship
_A_ could whip ship _B_ under some conditions, _B_ could whip _A_
under other conditions. An extreme illustration would be battleship
_A_ engaged with submarine _B_ at close quarters; _B_ being on
the surface in one case, and submerged in the other case.

_Aircraft_.--The influence of aircraft on naval operations is to
be very great indeed, but in directions and by amounts that it
would not be wise to attempt to predict. The most obvious influence
will be in distant scouting, for which the great speed of aircraft
will make them peculiarly adapted, as was demonstrated in the battle
near the Skagerak. It is the belief of the author, however, that
the time is close at hand when aeroplanes and dirigibles of large
size will be capable of offensive operations of the highest order,
including the launching of automobile torpedoes of the Whitehead
type.

_Skill_.--The question of skill bears a relation to the question
of the material power directed by it that is very vital, but very
elusive. If, for instance, ship _C_, firing ten 12-inch guns on a
side, fights ship _D_, firing five like guns on a side, the advantage
would seem to be with _C_; but it would not be if each gun on _D_
made three hits, while each gun on _C_ made one hit; a relative
performance not at all impossible or unprecedented. Similarily,
if the head of the admiralty of the _E_ fleet were a very skilful
strategist, and the head of the admiralty of the _F_ fleet were
not, and if the various admirals, captains, lieutenants, engineers,
and gunners of the _E_ fleet were highly skilled, and those of
the _F_ fleet were not, the _E_ fleet might be victorious, even
if materially it were much the smaller in material and personnel.
In case the head of the admiralty of the _E_ fleet were the more
skilful, while the officers of the _F_ fleet were, on the average,
more skilful than those of the _E_ fleet, it would be impossible
to weigh the difference between them; but as a rough statement,
it may be said that if the head of the admiralty of either fleet
is more skilful than the other, his officers will probably be more
skilful than the officers of the other; so pervasive is the influence
of the chief.

The effectiveness of modern ships and guns and engines and torpedoes,
when used with perfect skill, is so great that we tend unconsciously
to assume the perfect skill, and think of naval power in terms
of material units only. Yet daily life is full of reminders that
when two men or two bodies of men contend, the result depends in
large though varying measure on their relative degrees of skill.

Whenever one thinks of using skill, he includes in his thought
the thing in the handling of which the skill is employed. One can
hardly conceive of using skill except in handling something of the
general nature of an instrument, even if the skill is employed in
handling something which is not usually called an instrument. For
instance, if a man handles an organization with the intent thereby
to produce a certain result, the organization is the instrument
whereby he attempts to produce the result.

If a man exercises perfect skill, he achieves with his instrument
100 per cent of its possible effect. If he exercises imperfect
skill, he achieves a smaller percentage of its possible effect.

To analyze the effectiveness of skill, let us coin the phrase,
"effective skill," and agree that, if a man produces 100 per cent of
the possible, his effective skill is 100 per cent, and, in general,
that a man's effective skill in using any instrument is expressed by
the percentage he achieves of what the instrument can accomplish;
that, for instance, if a gun is fired at a given range under given
conditions, and 10 per cent hits are made in a given time, then
the effective skill employed is 10 per cent.

From this standpoint we see that imperfect skill is largely concerned
with errors. If a man uses, say, a gun, with perfect skill, he
commits no error in handling the gun; and the smaller the sum total
of errors which he commits in handling the gun, the greater his
effective skill and the greater the number of hits.

The word "errors," as here used, does not simply mean errors of
commission, but means errors of omission as well. If a man, in
firing a gun, fails to press the button or trigger when his sights
are on, he makes an error just as truly as the man does who presses
the button or trigger when the sights are not on.

Suppose that, in firing a gun, under given conditions of range,
etc., the effective skill employed is 10 per cent. This means that
10 per cent of hits are made. But it means another thing equally
important--it means that 90 per cent of misses are made. To what
are these misses due? Clearly they are due to errors made, not
necessarily by the man who fires the gun, but by all the people
concerned. If the correct sight-bar range were given to the gun,
and if the gun were correctly laid and the pointer pressed the
button at precisely the right instant, the shot would hit the target,
practically speaking. But, in actual practice, the range-finder
makes an error, the spotter makes an error, the plotting-room makes
an error, the sight-setter makes an error, and the gun-pointer
makes an error. The sum total of all of these errors results in
90 per cent of misses.

Suppose that by careful training these errors are reduced in the
relation of 9 to 8, so that instead of there being 90 per cent
of misses there are only 80 per cent. This does not seem a very
difficult thing for training to accomplish, but note the result: the
hits are increased from 10 per cent to 20 per cent. In other words,
by a decrease in errors in the relation of 9 to 8, the effective
skill and the hits are doubled.

Conversely, if the errors increased in the ratio of 9 to 10, the
misses would increase from 90 per cent to 100 per cent, and the
hits would be reduced from 10 per cent to 0.

Suppose now that the conditions are so very difficult that only
1 per cent of hits is made, or 99 per cent of misses, and that by
training the misses are reduced from 99 per cent to 98 per cent.
Clearly, by a decrease of errors of hardly more than 1 per cent
the effective skill and the hits are doubled.

Conversely, if the errors increased in the ratio of 99 to 100,
the misses would increase from 99 per cent to 100 per cent, and
the hits would be reduced from 1 per cent to 0.

But suppose that the conditions are so easy that 90 per cent of
hits are made and only 10 per cent of misses. Clearly, if the errors
were divided by 10, so that only 1 per cent of misses was made,
instead of 10 per cent, the number of hits would increase only
9 per cent, from 90 per cent to 99 per cent.

Of course, this is merely an arithmetical way of expressing the
ancient truths that skill becomes more and more important as the
difficulties of handling an instrument increase; and that, no matter
how effective an instrument may be when used with perfect skill,
the actual result obtained in practice is only the product of its
possible performance and the effective skill with which it is used.

Applying this idea to naval matters, we see why the very maximum
of skill is required in our war mechanisms and war organizations,
in their almost infinite variety and complexity. The war mechanisms
and war organizations of the military nations are capable of enormous
results, but only when they are used with enormous skill. There
are no other instruments or organizations that need so much skill
to handle them, because of the difficulties attending their use
and the issues at stake. Their development has been a process long
and painful. On no other things has so much money been spent; to
perfect no other things have so many lives been sacrificed; on
no other things, excepting possibly religion, have so many books
been written; to no other things has the strenuous exertion of so
many minds been devoted; in operating no other things has such
a combination of talent and genius and power of will and spirit
been employed.

A battleship is an instrument requiring skill to handle well, considered
both as a mechanism and as an organization. Its effective handling
calls for skill not only on the part of the captain, but on the
part of all hands. The finest dreadnaught is ineffective if manned
by an ineffective crew. The number and complexity of the mechanisms
on board are so great as to stagger the imagination; and the
circumstances of modern warfare are so difficult that, as between
two forces evenly matched as to material, a comparatively slight
advantage in errors made will turn the scale in favor of the more
skilful. A difference in errors, for instance, in the relation of
9 to 8, under the conditions mentioned above, between two fleets
having an equal number of similar ships, would give one side twice
as many hits as the other in any given length of time.

In March, 1905, the writer published an essay in the _Proceedings
of the U. S. Naval Institute_ called "American Naval Policy," in
which the effect of initial superiority in gun-fire was shown in
tables. One table showed that an initial advantage of only 10 per
cent secured an overwhelming victory by an accumulative effect.
Now a difference of 10 per cent in hits, under conditions in which
the hits were about 10 per cent of the maximum, would mean, roughly
speaking, the difference between 10 hits and 9 hits in a given
length of time, or a difference between 90 misses and 91 misses;
a difference in errors made of a little more than 1 per cent.

The conclusion to be drawn is too obvious to be stated. Perhaps
the conclusion is not broadly new; but possibly the idea is new
that so small a difference in errors made will, under conditions
of sufficient difficulty, produce such a tremendous difference
in results.

Now, a division is more complex and more difficult to handle perfectly
than is a battleship; a squadron more so than a division; a fleet
more so than a squadron; a navy more so than a fleet.

_Necessity for Knowledge of the Naval Machine_.--There is no machine
or tool so simple that knowledge of it is not needed in order to
use it skilfully. This does not mean that intimate knowledge of
the details of construction of a machine is necessary in order to
operate it; it does not mean, for instance, that a sharp-shooter
must have a profound knowledge of the metallurgy of the metal of
which his gun is mainly made, or of the laws of chemistry and physics
that apply to powder, or of the laws of ballistics that govern
the flight of the bullet to its target. But it does mean that any
skilful handler of any machine must know how to use it; that a
sharpshooter, for instance, must know how to use his machine--the
gun.

Of course, a sharpshooter's skill is exercised in operating under
very limited conditions, the conditions of shooting; and it does not
include necessarily the maintenance of his gun in good condition.
The operating of some machines, however, includes the maintenance
of those machines; and a simple illustration is that of operating
an automobile. An automobile is constructed to be operated at
considerable distances from home; and a man whose knowledge and
skill were limited to steering, stopping, starting, and backing
the car--who had no knowledge of its details of construction and
could not repair a trifling injury--would have very little value
as a chauffeur.

A like remark might truthfully be made about the operation of any
complex machine; and the more complex the machine, the more aptly
the remark would apply. The chief engineer of any electric plant,
of any municipal water-works, of any railroad, of any steamship
must have the most profound and intimate knowledge of the details
of construction and the method of operation of the machine committed
to his charge. Recognition of this fact by the engineering profession
is so complete and perfect as to be almost unconscious; and no man
whose reasoning faculties had been trained by the exact methods
of engineering could forget it for a moment. The whole structure
of that noble science rests on facts that have been demonstrated
to be facts, and the art rests on actions springing from those
facts; and neither the science nor the art would now exist, if
machines created by engineering skill had been committed to the
charge of men unskilled.

It is obvious that the more complicated in construction any machine
is, the more time and study are needed to understand it fully; and
that the more complicated its method of operation is, the more
practice is needed in order to attain skill in operating it.

The more simple the method of operation, the more closely a machine
approaches automatism; but even automatic machines are automatic
only in so far as their internal mechanisms are concerned; and
the fact of their being automatic does not eliminate the necessity
for skill in using them. An automatic gun, for instance, no matter
how perfectly automatically it discharges bullets, may be fired
at an advancing enemy skilfully or unskilfully, effectively or
ineffectively.

In operating some machines, such as a soldier's rifle, or a billiard
cue, the number of mental, nervous, and muscular operations is
apparently very few; yet every physician knows that the number is
very great indeed, and the operations extremely complex--complex
beyond the knowledge of the psychologist, physicist, chemist, and
biologist. The operation of more complex mechanisms, such as
automobiles, seems to be more difficult, because the operator has
more different kinds of things to do. Yet that it is really more
difficult may be doubted for two reasons; one being that each single
operation is of a more simple nature, and the other reason being
that we know that a much higher degree of skill is possessed by
a great billiardist than by an automobile chauffeur. Of course,
the reason of this may be that competition among billiardists has
been much more keen than among chauffeurs; but even if this be
true, it reminds us that _the difficulty of operating any machine
depends on the degree of skill exacted_. It also reminds us that,
if a machine is to be operated in competition with another machine,
the skill of the operator should be as great as it can be made.

The steaming competitions that have been carried on in our navy
for several years are examples on a large scale of competitive
trials of skill in operating machines. These machines are very
powerful, very complex, very important; and that supreme skill
shall be used in operating them is very important too. For this
reason, every man in the engineering department of every ship,
from the chief engineer himself to the youngest coal-passer, is
made to pass an examination of some kind, in order that no man
may be put into any position for which he is unfit, and no man
advanced to any position until he has shown himself qualified for
it, both by performance in the grade from which he seeks to rise,
and by passing a professional examination as to the duties in the
grade to which he desires to rise.

The same principles apply to all machines; and the common sense
of mankind appreciates them, even if the machines are of the human
type. A captain of a company of soldiers, in all armies and in all
times, has been trained to handle a specific human machine; so has
the captain of a football team, so has the rector of a church. The
training that each person receives gives him such a subconscious sense
of the weights and uses of the various parts of the machine, that he
handles them almost automatically--and not only automatically but
instantly. The captain on the bridge, when an emergency confronts
him, gives the appropriate order instantly.

Now the word "machine" conveys to the minds of most of us the image
of an engine made of metal, the parts of which are moved by some
force, such as the expansive force of steam. But machines were in
use long before the steam-engine came, and one of the earliest
known to man was man himself--the most perfect machine known to
him now, and one of the most complicated and misused; for who of
us does not know of some human machine of the most excellent type,
that has been ruined by the ignorance or negligence of the man
to whose care it was committed?

A machine is in its essence an aggregation of many parts, so related
to each other and to some external influence, that the parts can
be made to operate together, to attain some desired end or object.
From this point of view, which the author believes to be correct,
a baseball team is a machine, so is a political party, so is any
organization.

Before the days of civilization, machines were few in type; but
as civilization progressed, the necessity for organizations of
many kinds grew up, and organizations of many kinds appeared. Then
the necessity for knowledge of how to operate those organizations
brought about certain professions, first that of the military,
second that of the priesthood, and later those of the law, medicine,
engineering, etc. As time has gone on, the preparation required
for these professions, especially the progressive professions,
has become increasingly difficult and increasingly demanded; and
the members of the professions have become increasingly strict
in their requirements of candidates for membership.

Now the profession that is the most strict of all, that demands the
greatest variety of qualifications, and the earliest apprenticeship,
is the military. The military profession serves on both the land
and the sea, in armies and navies; and while both the land and
the sea branches are exacting in their demands, the sea or naval
branch is the more exacting of the two; by reason of the fact that
the naval profession is the more esoteric, the more apart from the
others, the more peculiar. In all the naval countries, suitable
youths are taken in hand by their governments, and initiated into
the "mysteries" of the naval profession--mysteries that would always
remain mysteries to them, if their initiation were begun too late in
life. Many instances are known of men who obtained great excellence in
professions which they entered late in life; but not one instance in
the case of a man who entered the naval profession late in life. And
though some civilian heads of navies have shown great mental capacity,
and after--say three years'--incumbency have shown a comprehension
of naval matters greater than might have been expected, none has
made a record of performance like those of the naval ministers
of Germany and Japan; or of Admiral Barham, as first lord of the
admiralty, or Sir John Fisher as first sea lord, in England.

A navy is so evidently a machine that the expression "naval machine"
has often been applied to it. It is a machine that, both in peace and
in war, must be handled by one man, no matter how many assistants
he may have. If a machine cannot be made to obey the will of one
man, it is not one machine. If two men are needed, at least two
machines are to be operated; if three men are needed there are at
least three machines, etc. One fleet is handled by one man, called
the commander-in-chief. If there are two commanders-in-chief, there
are two fleets; and these two fleets may act in conjunction, in
opposition, or without reference to each other.

The fact of a machine being operated by one man does not, however,
prevent the machine from comprising several machines, operated
by several men. A vessel of war, for instance, is operated as a
unit by one man; the words "vessel of war," meaning not only the
inert hull, but all the parts of personnel and material that make a
vessel of war. The captain does not handle each individual machine
or man; but he operates the mechanism and the personnel, by means
of which all the machines and men are made to perform their tasks.

Now the naval machine is composed of many machines, but the machines
that have to be "operated" in war, using the word "operated" in
the usual military sense, are only the active fleet, the bureaus
and offices and the bases; including in the bases any navy-yards
within them. Using the word "operated" still more technically,
the only thing to be operated in war is the fleet: but the head
of the Navy Department must also so direct the logistical efforts
of the bureaus and offices and bases, that the fleet shall be given
the material in fuel, supplies, and ammunition with which to conduct
those operations. Like the chief engineer of a ship, he must both
operate and maintain the machine.

The fleet itself is a complex machine, even in time of peace. In
war time it is more so, for the reason that many additions are
made to the fleet when war breaks out; and these additions, being
largely of craft and men held in reserve, or brought in hurriedly
from civil life, cannot be so efficient or so reliable as are the
parts of the fleet that existed in time of peace.

The active fleet consists of battleships, battle cruisers, cruisers
of various speeds and sizes, destroyers, submarines, and aircraft.
The fleet is under the immediate command of its commander-in-chief,
just as the New York naval station is under the command of its
commandant; but the commander-in-chief of the fleet is just as
strictly under the command of the head of the admiralty or Navy
Department as is the commandant. The commander-in-chief is the
principal part of the naval machine that is operated in war; and
the ultimate success of the naval machine in war depends largely
on the amount and degree of understanding that exists between the
commander-in-chief and the head of the Navy Department. That goodwill
and kindly feeling should exist between them may be assumed, since
both have the same object in view; but that real understanding
should exist between them is more difficult to assume, especially
if they have been trained in different schools and have not known
each other until late in life. In the latter case, misunderstandings
are apt to arise, as time goes on; and if they do, the most cordial
good feeling may change into mutual distrust and suspicion, and
even hatred. To see that such things have happened in the past,
we do not have to look further back in history than the records of
our own Civil War, especially the records of the mutual relations
of the head of the War Department and some generals. That a situation
equally grave did not exist between the head of the Navy Department
and any of the admirals may be attributed to the fact that the
number of naval defeats was less than the number of defeats on land,
to the lesser number of persons in the navy, and to the smaller
number of operations. Perhaps a still greater reason was the greater
confidence shown by civilians in their ability to handle troops,
compared with their confidence in their ability to handle fleets.

Even between the Navy Department and the officers, however, mutual
respect and understanding can hardly be said to have existed. This
did not prevent the ultimate triumph of the Union navy; but that
could hardly have been prevented by any means, since the Union
navy was so much superior to the Confederate.

_Co-operation between the Navy Department and the Fleet_.--In any
war with a powerful navy, into which the U. S. navy may enter,
the question of co-operation between the department and the fleet
will be the most important factor in the portentous situation that
will face us. We shall be confronted with the necessity of handling
the most complex and powerful machine known to man with the utmost
possible skill; and any lack of understanding between the fleet
and the department, and any slowness of apprehension or of action
by the department, may cause a national disaster. One of the most
important dangers to be guarded against will be loss of time. In
naval operations the speed of movement of the forces is so great
that crises develop and pass with a rapidity unexampled formerly;
so that delays of any kind, or due to any causes, must be prevented
if that be possible. If a swordsman directs a thrust at the heart,
the thrust must be parried--_in time_.

[Illustration: STRATEGIC MAP OF THE ATLANTIC AND PACIFIC OCEANS.]



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