The astonishment, distress, chagrin and bewilderment caused by want of
success, "regrettable incidents," and disasters, sometimes found consolation
during the South African War in the foolish remark—The Germans would have
done no better. What the German Army, which had not been actively employed
for twenty-eight years, might have accomplished under the same conditions is
a matter for sterile speculation which has little bearing on the case. But
the German Army certainly had not been accustomed to look upon War as a
branch of Sport or Athletics.
Owing in all probability to the happy fact in History that England has not
been invaded and over-run by a foreign army since the time of William the
Conqueror—an episode which had in the end an excellent influence on the
national life—she has never taken the military art seriously. She alone,
thanks to the protection of Providence, has never been compelled to fight on
her own fields for her existence as a nation; she alone knows nothing even
by tradition handed down from distant generations of the appearance of an
alien soldier on her shores.10 Some of her wars, as for example
the successful struggle by which the Napoleonic domination was broken up,
have been fought for the purpose of safe-guarding her independence, but they
were not popular with the people at large, whose short sight did not permit
them to see that a defensive war may have to be fought beyond the seas; and
they had little or no effect in evoking a patriotic military spirit.
Napoleon's gibe that the English were a nation of shopkeepers was not
unasked for, and is still seasonable.
On the other hand there are hundreds of thousands of persons on the
Continent of Europe who have seen, or who are the near descendants of those
who have seen, their fatherland ravaged; their homes destroyed; their
relations, friends, and neighbours slaughtered in the defence; the tree of
the national life maimed; and the full cup of the horrors of war drained to
its dregs.
To them the prospect of an invasion is not a remote contingency to be
considered and provided for at leisure after academical discussion, but a
real and instant danger from which only universal service, to which
fortunately for themselves they submit without much demur, as it could not
be enforced upon a reluctant community, can preserve them.
The possibility of invasion is the dominant anxiety of the land-frontier
nations.11 Across the frontier they can see the conscripts drilling who
almost at a moment's notice may be marching in to attack them. Their armies
are not sent on interesting little expeditions to restrain a too-militant
tribe of hill-men or to patrol the distant marches of a magnificent Empire,
but must stand at attention generation after generation, year after year,
maintaining the featureless routine of military life. None of the Romance of
War that falls to the lot of the British soldier—the service among strange
Easterns in Asia, the building up of a new imperial province in South
Africa, the constant change of scene along the posts which form a girdle
round the world from Hongkong to Jamaica—falls also to the lot of the
continental conscript, for whom there is only the dull waiting for the
critical moment.
The land-frontier nations alone are aware of the reality of the Terror of
War; it is a Thing overshadowing and, apart from every other thing in their
world, which must not, cannot be expelled from their thoughts. The objects
that meet the eye on all sides speak of War; the railway vehicles marked
with the number of men and horses conveyable, the noble war memorials, the
officers constantly in uniform, the crowds of soldiers in the streets, the
military bearing and precision of even the civilian servants of the State;
while upon the ears falls the sound, which is in most cases a lingering echo
of the roar of war, of alien tongues spoken within the frontier, or of the
tongue of the Fatherland spoken in exile without it.
On the other hand, Peace is believed to be permanently settled upon the
shore of the silver streak which encloses the British Isles. The war
monuments are scanty and not a few of them are grotesque; the soldier and
his work are thrust into the background, and his uniform is so often a
hindrance to him that on certain occasions he is permitted to appear in
plain clothes, that is to disguise himself as a civilian; and this
concession is officially termed a "privilege." The red tunic of the soldier,
like the red rays of the spectrum which cannot be brought into focus with
the other colours, fails to make a sharp impression upon the British retina,
but projects an ill-defined image seen through a medium of doubt and
indifference.
The nation looks upon the Army much as the individual looks upon the
Policeman, as a necessary institution, but one rather to be avoided and kept
in its place when its services are not actually in requisition. Little
interest is taken in its difficulties, its merits, and its opportunities. It
is regarded not as an indispensable protection, but rather as an expensive
result of possessions in all parts of the world, and when the peace of these
is in danger of being broken, the cry too often belated goes up: Send for
the Soldiers. Probably nothing less than an actual landing of foreign troops
or the scare of it so tremendous as to drive the nation into the opposite
and equally dangerous extreme of consternation and panic will be necessary
to shake its belief, that the white cliffs of Albion are immune to an
invasion in force.
The nightmare of Militarism by which so many worthy persons are fanatically
obsessed obscures the dangers against which Militarism is an insurance. Now
Militarism is not in itself a desirable thing, and the developments and
accidents of it upon the Continent of Europe are often not only irksome and
absurd but also irreconcilable with the existence of a healthy feeling of
self-respect in the non-military sections of the community, who are taught
to regard themselves as an inferior caste; but with all its shortcomings it
promotes the moral as well as the physical strength of a nation. It calls up
some of the nobler qualities of human nature; self-control, self-reliance,
endurance, and altruism or the devotion of Self to the good of the
community; and not the least of its merits is that it corrects and restrains
the dreary materialism of the Labour and Socialist movements.
The shy and distant bearing of the British nation and its persistent refusal
to regard the Army as part of itself, in conjunction with the growing
national passion for Sport and Athletics, fostered the idea that War itself
must be a branch of them. From time immemorial the military had been eyed
with suspicion by the country, which professed to believe that its liberties
were in greater danger from its own soldiers than from the soldiers of a
foreign power, and which for a long time withheld from its rulers the right
of having a standing army. Gradually and with great reluctance it was
convinced of the necessity of a permanent force, not so much for home
defence as for the performance of the police duties of an Empire. As the
Empire grew year by year, these duties became more onerous and responsible,
but the Army itself was not taken seriously. It was confessedly too weak to
engage in a European campaign, and the Navy was considered to be sufficient
to protect the country against invasion.
The duties of the Army abroad were generally interesting and exciting but
they did not call for the exercise of the military art with great precision,
as the opponents which it was called upon to face were rarely experts, and
there was a comfortable belief that the bravery and endurance of the British
soldier would outweigh deficiencies in other military qualities.12
The War-as-a-Sport idea was also encouraged by the opinion still stoutly
held by many persons that a good sportsman is necessarily a good soldier,
and that the qualities which ensure success in Athletics or Sport make also
for success in War: but this is true of certain of them only. In so far as
Athletics and Sport tend to manliness, self-reliance, good comradeship,
endurance of bodily hardship, and contempt of danger, they are no doubt an
excellent preparatory school for War. But there is one quality without the
possession of which no man is held to be a good sportsman, and that is the
acceptance of defeat or non-success with equanimity and good-humour as "part
of the game." Without this quality Athletics and Sport would, in fact,
become impossible.
In the soldier, however, this temperament is a dangerous gift. It led to
reverses, captures, loss of convoys and other "regrettable incidents" being
regarded with stoical composure as "part of the game"; and the victims were
condoled with on their "shocking bad luck." It would have been difficult to
discern from the bearing and demeanour of the typical officer whether he was
at the moment a prisoner of war in the Model School at Pretoria, or had just
taken part in the magnificent cavalry charge by which Kimberley was
relieved. The former plight did not greatly depress him, nor did the latter
phase of military life greatly elate him. It is probable that the War would
have been brought to a successful close at a much earlier date if throughout
the British Army and especially among the officers hearty disgust and
indignation at the failures of the first few months had taken the place of a
light-hearted accommodation to circumstances. The companions of Ulysses may
With a frolic
welcome take
The thunder and the sunshine,
but it is not War.
The British officer played at war in South Africa much in the same way that
he hunted or played cricket or polo at home. He enjoyed the sport and the
game, did his best for his own side, and rejoiced if he was successful, but
was not greatly disturbed when he lost. A dictum attributed to the Duke of
Wellington says that the Battle of Waterloo was won upon the Playing Fields
at Eton. It would not be so very far from the truth to say that the guns at
Sannah's Post were captured on the polo-ground at Hurlingham; that
Magersfontein was lost at Lord's; that Spionkop was evacuated at Sandown;
and that the war lingered on for thirty-two months in the Quorn and Pytchley
coverts.
The sporting view of War was recognized and confirmed in Army Orders and
official reports, in which the words "bag," "drive," "stop," and some other
sporting terms not infrequently appeared. No one would reasonably object to
the judicious and illuminating use of metaphor, but there are metaphors
which impair the dignity of a cause and degrade it in the eyes of those
whose duty is to maintain that cause. When the advance of a British Division
at a critical period in the operations is frivolously termed a "drive," and
when the men extended at ten paces' interval over a wide front are called
"beaters," it is natural that the leaders should look upon their work as
analogous to the duties of a gamekeeper; and when an artillery officer is
instructed to "pitch his shells well up," he is encouraged to regard failure
as no worse than the loss of a cricket-match.
It was at least to be expected that in the use, care, and management of
horses upon which the success of a campaign, in which mounted men formed an
unusually large proportion of the troops engaged, so much depended, the
sporting instincts of the British officer would have made him particularly
efficient; yet the evidence given by General officers before the Royal
Commission showed that it was otherwise. They are practically unanimous in
the opinion that all branches of the mounted troops were inefficient, except
the artillery, whose work so far as horses are concerned is akin to that of
the skilful but unsporting farm teamster or wagoner.
A
nation greatly addicted to Sport, Games, and Athletics is a nation lacking
in that earnestness of moral purpose which should be its chief strength for
War. Amusements are regarded not as "recreation" or means of refreshing and
re-invigorating the mind and body for the duties of life by a temporary
change of occupation, but as the main objective of existence.
A
retrospect into history will show that the most efficient armies were those
in which the sporting instinct was non-existent. The armies which in modern
times have most satisfactorily performed the duties for which armies are
raised were those of Gustavus Adolphus, Napoleon, Moltke, and Oyama. Each of
these was the most perfect military instrument of its day, and their
exploits have never been surpassed. Yet neither the Swedes, the French, the
Germans, nor the Japanese were addicted to Athletics or Sport. Their manly
instincts were exercised, to the great advantage of their countries, in
skill at arms and in the Military Art.13
The cult of Sport and Athletics sets up false ideals and lowers the
intellectual standard. Thousands of loafers, idlers, and work skirkers live
upon the anticipations or recollections of out-door sports when not actually
present at them, and are ready to spend their last shilling at the turnstile
of the ground on which a handful of football gladiators are at play: and are
more exasperated by the defeat of the team which they patronise in a Cup Tie
match than they would be by the loss of a battle by the British Army. There
is this to be said for the working classes, that in youth, if not longer,
they in general endure a hard and strenuous life, and at least in their
school years they cannot indulge a passion for amusement; whereas the class
from which the officers of the British Army are drawn is encouraged on the
other hand to indulge it from childhood. Owing to the prominence given in
the Public Schools and Universities to games and athletics and to the esteem
in which proficiency in these is held, youths of the upper middle and upper
classes are dumped upon the world not humbly but arrogantly ignorant of
almost everything necessary to qualify them to take their proper place in
the community. They have subsisted in a rarefied intellectual atmosphere,
and to fit themselves for any profession for which they may have an
inclination they have to be forced or "crammed" in a saturated atmosphere by
which they are congested. The result is that "young officers now join the
service with a very fair idea of cricket and football, bridge, and even
motor-driving; but with no education in patriotism; no real acquaintance
with the history or geography of their own or other countries; unable to
write English concisely, or even grammatically;14 unaccustomed to
read general information for themselves other than under the headings of the
Daily Mail; unable to talk a foreign language; and with no knowledge of the
sciences which are of military use."15 To this may be added the
fact that these young dullards, the supply of whom is dwindling, are, on
joining the service, encouraged and accepted rather with reference to their
sporting and social qualities than to their military capacity.
England, as a sporting, athletic, and game-loving nation, has of late years
suffered many rebuffs. By the United States she has been taught the
scientific method of riding racehorses, and also of sailing yachts; she has
been defeated in polo by a Transatlantic team; her selected representative
horsemen are unsuccessful in the International Military Tournaments; she
cannot defeat Australia on the cricket field; a Belgian crew holds its own
at Henley. If these rebuffs tend to abate the mania for watching the
performances of a handsome but not particularly intelligent quadruped, and
for studying the various methods of imparting motion to a Ball and to show
the vanity of the passion for sports and games when indulged to excess, they
will have served their purpose. The nation, disgusted at its want of success
in its favourite pursuits, may perhaps turn its manhood to the noblest
pursuit of all, the defence of the Fatherland; and then it will not be the
betting and football news that has to be blacked out of the daily papers in
the free libraries, but the bi-weekly military gazettes, the reports from
the military stations and the Special Correspondents' letters from Salisbury
Plain during the manoeuvres.
Footnote 10:
Except the French raid at Fishguard in 1797.
Footnote 11:
The Franco-German War cost France £600,000,000 exclusive of the loss from
suspension of business and commerce.
Footnote 12:
The attaché of a Great Power noticed in the South African War an aversion to
the tedious duties of outposts and reconnaissance, and he remarks that "it
is often openly stated by British officers that it is better to get now and
then into a really tight place by the neglect of these duties than to have
to endure the constant irksomeness which they entail."
Footnote 13:
Apart from the question of the relative importance of the two services, it
can hardly be denied that the British Naval Officer is an asset more
valuable to his country than his brother in the Army. The social side of his
character may be more rugged and less acceptable, but as a rule he has had
neither the time nor the inclination to fritter away his manhood in sporting
pursuits which do not make for proficiency in his profession, and he
therefore excels in it; in spite of trying conditions which do not exist in
any other calling, for with some rhetorical exaggeration it may be said that
in the lower ranks he is an abject slave, in the higher an irresponsible
despot.
Footnote 14:
To the various courses, ranging from Balloons to Economics, which are open
to British Officers, might be added a course in English Grammar and
Composition, for the instruction of staff officers and others who may have
to formulate battle orders and despatch important telegrams on active
service. The art of composing a clear, terse, and unambiguous order or
telegraphic message is not studied in the Army. Not a few telegrams of vital
importance in the South African War were composed by impressionist staff
officers who lightly assumed that what was present in their own minds must
necessarily also be present in the mind of the recipient. The author
particularly remembers a certain telegram from a staff officer of a column,
in which it was impossible to discover from the context whether the word
"they" in the concluding paragraph referred to British Columns or to Boer
Commandos previously mentioned.
Footnote 15:
Major-General Baden-Powell, in Cavalry Journal, April.
