Chapter XIV Some Types of Commanders
The Generalissimo was, in a certain sense, less known than any of his Generals, for though much had been written of him, but little was really apprehended of his silent and uncommunicative nature. As the head of a powerful and almost anonymous organisation, he lived in a semi-seclusion. No politician could boast that he had his ear, for he kept himself rigidly from such influences. His popularity with the masses was remarkable, and his name became a symbol for economy in lives. None the less he dwelt apart in an atmosphere removed from all clamour and excitation, apparently unconscious of the intrigues about him. This segregation carried with it the disability of its advantage, for it involved a certain inaccessibility to political necessities, which even the strongest commander has to consult at times. “Moral effect” had infinitely less weight with him than military utility; indeed, it seemed hardly to exist in his vocabulary, and probably he bracketed this species of popularity and concession to the crowd with that private and subterranean influence of which he was perpetually afraid. Rigid in his solitariness he watched the conflagration from a lonely hill, silhouetted against the glowing sky, and none could say that he had pierced to his inmost thoughts. Nor in the greater part of his career had he been in close touch with army life, for his occupations took him to distant climes where he engaged in road and railway, bridge and even town construction, thus removing him from military routine and strengthening those powers of reflection and cold, dispassionate survey which are his chief claims to a grateful consideration. And, doubtless, the desert and the jungle taught him nervelessness and that calmness which no vibration of calamitous events could shake.
De Castelnau, the second in command, presented a complete contrast with his chief. His character is open, his oratory at once humorous and compelling. Though a strict Catholic and attending Mass every day, his tolerance enabled him to employ as aides-de-camp two officers of the Alsatian Lutheran Church. His military science is so sure that he seems to divine in advance the plans of the enemy, and his experience of camps and courts, following on his missions to foreign countries, has given him the widest grasp of political affairs which in reality lie in the region of strategy. Probably the most accomplished General in the French Army, to him is attributed the plan of the great offensive designed for the Autumn of 1916.
The events of Verdun gave prominence to the personality of Pétain. Before the great attack by the Germans on the fortress, he was unknown except to those in close touch with the army. In a few weeks, he had become world-famous. His rapid promotion was due to the perspicacity of de Castelnau, who had the general direction of the line from Soissons to Verdun. The second in command observed the vast German preparations, the accumulation of guns and the massing of infantry, and with the assent of the Generalissimo, set Pétain to work to stem the tide of the enemy advance. With characteristic energy the new-comer flung himself into the task. Urgency was necessary, for it was a question of days. Divisions were hurried up to reinforce the thin line of 12,000 men, garrisoning the twenty miles chiefly threatened by the Germans; heavy artillery was got together, sometimes improvised from forts and warships, and an immense accumulation was made of machine and field guns. Fortunately, the German attack was delayed by bad weather, giving the French greater time to increase their fortifications, and when the battle opened, a week later, the defenders were in a good position to resist the first awful thrust of the German battalions. None the less, the big guns of the enemy were superior in range and were more mobile than the French. This defect was partially compensated by moving back the French line, by employing the 75’s as if they were machine-guns, and yet, in other directions, so cunningly concealing them that their fire could not be silenced.
The new commander of armies has the gift of inspiring the enthusiasm of his men. They are ready to die for him; to go anywhere at his bidding. His magnetism was as strongly exercised upon the students of the Ecole de Guerre, where, in a memorable series, he lectured on infantry action. There is something in his manner, in his appearance, which excites the respectful attention of his listeners, who soon learn to regard him as a master. And the frank, clear, piercing eyes, the serene forehead, the handsome face barred by the moustache, wheat-coloured like the hair, until two score years and the Great War turned it to trey, seem the outward expression of the character. He has the personality of great leaders, and those tense and tragic weeks at Verdun served to emphasise it. Personal influence counted for more, perhaps, than actual matter in his discourse. Clarity was its strong point, and an unerring touch which dissipated difficulties and revealed as by inspiration, in the classic battles of the world, the causes of victory and of defeat. Pétain sought the personal factor in all these great contests. He gave no mere record of facts, but studied the psychology of commanders, his conclusions representing original research and an untiring quest for truth. Character meant achievement, and the absence of it disaster. There could be no more pointed lesson to give to students of the art of war.
He was known as a man of exceptional talent by those with whom he came into close personal contact. His criticism of manoeuvres in which he engaged with his regiment was suggestive and stimulating, and pointed to rare gifts of discernment. But if his reputation became strong in technical quarters, it did not involve promotion. He was still Colonel, mature and a little disappointed and even contemplating retirement, when war broke out. But contact with realities revealed his worth, and his ascension from the Great Retreat to the prodigious battle of Verdun was a record in rapidity. Placed in charge of the Fourth Brigade of Infantry, he received three days later the command of the Fifth Division. On October 25, 1914, he was given the 33rd Army Corps, which covered itself with glory at Carency, Notre Dame de Lorette, and Ablain. Officially a divisionnaire, on April 30, 1915, Pétain became Chief of the Second Army, with which he led the great offensive in Champagne. He pierced the German lines with such speed and thoroughness that the plan of attack was somewhat compromised, for the General Staff had counted on a slower development. Thus the movement was stopped, though attended with great success.
Courteous in speech, he has yet a soldier’s dislike for subtle and tortuous phraseology, and his whole tendency is to speak his mind. The result, however justly phrased, was not always palatable to authority, and, indeed, a plain statement of the truth is rarely a passport to official favour. His energy is legendary, and the effect of this is heightened by the appearance of youth conveyed by the pink-and-white complexion and the slim figure. As a young man, he is said to have danced all night at a military ball at Marseilles, until tired stewards came to him in the morning to ask him to desist out of pity for the musicians! Again at Arras, when in command of the 33rd Regiment of Infantry, he is said to have been requested by his landlord to depart, because his skipping in the morning annoyed the occupant of a flat below him! Thereupon, says the chronicler, he removed to a house set in a garden, where, presumably, there were no neighbours to annoy. The story is probably apocryphal, but it represents the energy of the man. Though he does not skip, he keeps himself fit by physical exercises. He considers that a General’s vigour and power of resistance are as important as his mental equipment. To assure this nice balance of mind and body, a system must be resorted to. If one weighs food for the war charger, why not for the warrior? That is his argument, and he acts upon it. No leader in the French Army has more persistently trained himself to support the rigour of a campaign, and none shows a greater activity. In the Champagne offensive, he ran three miles over rough ground at the head of his troops.
His principle is to leave nothing to chance, but to oversee and control everything. Thus, at the height of the bombardment of Verdun, he surprised his officers by visiting them in the most exposed positions. During the battle, he used an armoured machine-gun car as his moving Headquarters, sleeping there and conducting his business from it. At another stage in the gigantic battle he sat for five days and nights at his desk regulating details—proof of his powers of endurance. He drives like the wind over any road, leaving even racing motorists aghast at his speed. He is reputed to have used up a dozen chauffeurs in as many weeks. One said, pathetically, that he did not mind taking his chance of being killed in the trenches, but to drive for the General was like courting death. Pétain believes in sharing danger as he shares discomfort with his troops. As a Colonel he was often to be seen on the parade ground in bad weather without an overcoat—as an example to his men. If he has a deep and clear sense of his responsibilities, he is neither sad nor taciturn in private life. He enjoys social intercourse and is a charming conversationalist. Though unmarried, he adores children, and a friend tells me that he saw him when Colonel of a regiment romping joyously with children on his back.
His superiority as a soldier comes from his instant vision. He sees a problem with such sureness, that his words bear the look of prophecy. Long before the war, he told a young lieutenant of cavalry that he would regret his arm, for upon the infantry, he said, would fall the brunt as well as the glory of the next war. His prevision showed that his thoughts were directed towards war when others probably were thinking only of their own affairs.
Calmness and equality of temper are the characteristics of General Roques, who succeeded General Galliéni as Minister of War. Possessing as great will power as his predecessor, he has a quiet and attractive way of gaining his ends without compromising their essential character. He finds the formula suitable to the occasion, and possesses the ideal temperament for a Minister of the Republic. Like Joffre, he has passed the greater part of his career in the colonies, where he learned the same lessons of self-reliance and of organisation. Like Joffre, too, he worked as an engineer in Madagascar, helping the future Generalissimo to build Diego Suarez, and afterwards linking by railway Antananarivo with the sea. Seven fruitful years in Madagascar were prefaced by similar periods in Algeria and Tonking and an expedition with General Dodds to Dahomey, which he undertook soon after leaving the Polytechnique.
Succeeding Joffre as Director of Engineers at the Ministry of War, he became Director of Aeronautics at the moment when France began to realise the military possibilities of the aeroplane. General Roques’s spirit of organisation was as potent at the Rue Saint-Dominique as in command of troops. Mounting by the usual stages of Division, Army Corps, and Army, he distinguished himself in the two latter situations on active service, and in the former at manoeuvres one year before the Great War. For his personal bravery and skill in the field he received the War Cross and the Grand Cross of the Legion. With the dust of Verdun still upon him he took charge of Galliéni’s portfolio and soon showed a vivid sense of the realities of modern war. His conciliation and tact and his quiet mastery of details earned for him the good-will and confidence of the army and of his subordinates. To that perfect mastery over himself which is necessary to mastery over others, he added a decision of character invaluable in high responsibility. He is of the school of Generals formed overseas. Of such are Joffre and Galliéni, Gouraud and Marchand.
Gouraud resembles Pétain in his judgment and charm as well as in his power over men. He inspires devotion, and carries the secret of command in a splendid face and figure. The empty right sleeve is a touching testimony to his valour, and for months he walked limping with a stick, for his right thigh and left leg had been injured also at the Dardanelles—the place of his dismemberment. It was after a day’s bombardment and the Commander-in-Chief was watching the embarkation of wounded on a hospital ship, for there was no place to put them on that rocky shore, searched minutely by the enemy shells. One breaking from a Turkish naval gun threw the General over a wall and inflicted the injuries I have described. On the way home by ship to Marseilles, gangrene supervened in the arm, demanding its amputation.
I saw him just after his recovery when, with a glad note in his voice, he announced his approaching return to the Front. In conversation with him one realised why he was called the “lion of the Argonne.” There is something king-like in his looks—the brown beard, and the manly, well-formed features—and you are certain that the khaki tunic covers a lion’s heart. His whole career has been of the noble sort: whether tracking Samory, the negro chieftain, into the recesses of his virgin forest, where he captured him after he had waged fitful war with France for seventeen years; or whether he was leading a sortie from Fez and clearing a savage horde from its walls. For this latter feat he gained the three stars at a time of life when most French officers have not reached a colonelcy. When the Great War broke out Gouraud hastened from Morocco to the east of France, where he led Colonial troops in unexampled feats of bravery. He was shot in the shoulder, but bullets cannot stop such a man; he seems to bear a charmed life as he passes heedlessly amidst a storm of flying, shrieking metal. His heroic soul is unmoved by the Inferno of the battle. Even the worst inventions of the devil are powerless against this perfect knight, dressed in the invincible and shining armour of his faith and patriotism.
It was good to hear him speak of his career as simply as if he were relating the banal life of some village attorney. Perhaps an ancestor who served in Napoleon’s artillery, or a great-uncle who helped the Duc d’Aumale to conquer Algeria, were in measure responsible for his military tastes. Certainly he did not get them from his father following the pacific profession of a doctor in a Paris hospital. At sixteen or seventeen years of age the Tonking campaign attracted him with its promise of adventure, but his youthful imagination was mainly fired by reading the travels and explorations of Livingstone, of Cameron, Stanley, Brazza and Galliéni. And the Colonies, whatever their bad old reputation in France for forming soldiers who were theatrical and had no notion of modern warfare, since they fought against savages, has proved in this war the nursery of manly virtues. Therein a man learns courage and endurance, self-reliance and a faculty for improvising everything. It has produced men of the type of Marchand, one of the most romantic figures that ever donned the uniform of the Republic. His hold over his men is quite extraordinary; they are ready to follow him into the jaws of death. His exploits in the Soudan recall a time when there was no smile on the face of John Bull as he looked across to France. A poet in his ideality and lyric quality, he has the sublime courage of the Early Christian, the personal sway of the born leader, the heart and tenderness of a woman.
No French general has come into closer contact with the English than Foch, for his army neighboured theirs for long months together, and none has a higher opinion of their qualities or was more sensible of the vast improvement effected in their fighting methods during the progress of the war. Foch is one of the most learned of the chiefs of the army; he directed the War School during a period of his career, and his lectures on the art of leading troops in battle are models of their kind. When war broke out, he was commanding at Nancy the 20th Army Corps, which includes the famous Iron Division. As disciplinarian he offers no excuses for himself or for others for any failure in duty; and there is no soldier, if it is not Pétain, who has adapted his science more successfully to the problems of a twentieth-century war. Looking forty-five, though twenty years older, he is of those who prepared assiduously for the great day of the battle. Alas! his own family were early victims of it, for at Charleroi fell his son and his son-in-law. Amongst his officers at Nancy was General Balfourier in charge of a brigade. Tall and slim and dark until active service had whitened his hair, Balfourier has the perfect manners of a man of the world. You would take him for a courtier if you did not know that he was a soldier and a particularly brave one. The Tsar’s congratulations reached him in the midst of the gigantic battle of Verdun, where he had handled the 20th Corps with such skill and daring as to attract universal attention. There was always a perfect union between his infantry and artillery. He and his wife kept open house at Nancy to the officers under his command, and their handsome fortune enabled them to entertain lavishly both here and at their residence at Chantilly. The General’s father was as far removed from Gouraud’s from the trade of arms, for he followed the unlikely profession of a notary; but both obeyed the call to a soldier’s life and achieved an equal distinction.
These, then, are the men who have led France to victory. To-morrow others will spring from her fruitful soil and represent her courage, her hope, and her resourcefulness. The Great War has demonstrated the adaptability of the race. It is perennial in its freshness and inspiration.