Stonewall Jackson and the American Civil War
could troops, it may be asked, who so seldom infringed the regulations
be other than well-disciplined? For the simple reason that discipline
in quarters is an absolutely different quality from discipline in
battle. No large body of
intelligent men, assembled in a just cause and of good character, is
likely to break out into excesses, or, if obedience is manifestly
necessary, to rebel against authority. Subordination to the law is the
distinguishing mark of all civilised society. But such subordination,
however praiseworthy, is not the discipline of the soldier, though it
is often confounded with it. A regiment of volunteers, billeted in some
country town, would probably show a smaller list of misdemeanours than
a regiment of regulars. Yet the latter might be exceedingly
well-disciplined, and the former have no real discipline whatever.
Self-respect—for that is the discipline of the volunteer—is not battle
discipline, the discipline of the cloth, of habit, of tradition, of
constant association and of mutual confidence. Self-respect, excellent
in itself, and by no means unknown amongst regular soldiers, does not
carry with it a mechanical obedience to command, nor does it merge the
individual in the mass, and give the tremendous power of unity to the
efforts of large numbers.
It will not be pretended that the discipline of regular troops always
rises superior to privation and defeat. It is a notorious fact that the
number of deserters from Wellington’s army in Spain and Portugal, men
who wilfully absented themselves from the colours and wandered over the
country, was by no means inconsiderable; while the behaviour of the
French regulars in 1870, and even of the Germans, when they rushed back
in panic through the village of Gravelotte, deaf to the threats and
entreaties of their aged sovereign, was hardly in accordance with
military tradition. Nevertheless, it is not difficult to show that the
Southerners fell somewhat short of the highest standard. They were
certainly not incapable of keeping their ranks under a hot fire, or of
holding their ground to the last extremity. Pickett’s charge at
Gettysburg is one of the most splendid examples of disciplined valour
in the annals of war, and the endurance of Lee’s army at Sharpsburg has
seldom been surpassed. Nor was the disorder into which the attacking
lines were sooner or later thrown a proof of inferior training. Even in
the
days of flint-lock muskets, the admixture of not only companies and
battalions, but even of brigades and divisions, was a constant feature
of fierce assaults over broken ground. If, under such conditions, the
troops still press forward, and if, when success has been achieved,
order is rapidly restored, then discipline is good; and in neither
respect did the Confederates fail. But to be proof against disorder is
not everything in battle. It is not sufficient that the men should be
capable of fighting fiercely; to reap the full benefit of their weapons
and their training they must be obedient to command. The rifle is a far
less formidable weapon when every man uses it at his own discretion
than when the fire of a large body of troops is directed by a single
will. Precision of movement, too, is necessary for the quick
concentration of superior forces at the decisive point, for rapid
support, and for effective combination. But neither was the fire of the
Confederate infantry under the complete control of their officers, nor
were their movements always characterised by order and regularity. It
was seldom that the men could be induced to refrain from answering shot
with shot; there was an extraordinary waste of ammunition, there was
much unnecessary noise, and the regiments were very apt to get out of
hand. It is needless to bring forward specific proof; the admissions of
superior officers are quite sufficient. General D. H. Hill, in an
interesting description of the Southern soldier, speaks very frankly of
his shortcomings. “Self-reliant always, obedient when he chose to be,
impatient of drill and discipline. He was unsurpassed as a scout or on
the skirmish line. Of the shoulder-to-shoulder courage, bred of drill
and discipline, he knew nothing and cared less. Hence, on the
battle-field, he was more of a free lance than a machine. Who ever saw
a Confederate line advancing that was not crooked as a ram’s horn? Each
ragged rebel yelling on his own hook and aligning on himself! But there
is as much need of the machine-made soldier as of the self-reliant
soldier, and the concentrated blow is always the most effective blow.
The erratic effort of the Confederate, heroic though it was, yet failed
to
achieve the maximum result just because it was erratic. Moreover, two
serious evils attended that excessive egotism and individuality which
came to the Confederate through his training, association, and habits.
He knew when a movement was false and a position untenable, and he was
too little of a machine to give in such cases the wholehearted service
which might have redeemed the blunder. The other evil was an
ever-growing one. His disregard of discipline and independence of
character made him often a straggler, and by straggling the fruit of
many a victory was lost.[14]
General Lee was not less outspoken. A circular issued to his troops
during the last months of the war is virtually a criticism on their
conduct. “Many opportunities,” he wrote, “have been lost and hundreds
of valuable lives uselessly sacrificed for want of a strict observance
of discipline. Its object is to enable an army to bring promptly into
action the largest possible number of men in good order, and under the
control of their officers. Its effects are visible in all military
history, which records the triumph of discipline and courage far more
frequently than that of numbers and resources. The importance and
utility of thorough discipline should be impressed on officers and men
on all occasions by illustrations taken from the experience of the
instructor or from other sources of information. They should be made to
understand that discipline contributes no less to their safety than to
their efficiency. Disastrous surprises and those sudden panics which
lead to defeat and the greatest loss of life are of rare occurrence
among disciplined troops. It is well known that the greatest number of
casualties occur when men become scattered, and especially when they
retreat in confusion, as the fire of the enemy is then more deliberate
and fatal. The experience of every officer shows that those troops
suffer least who attack most vigorously, and that a few men, retaining
their organisation and acting in concert, accomplish far more with
smaller loss than a larger number scattered and disorganised.
“The appearance of a steady, unbroken line is more formidable to the
enemy, and renders his aim less accurate and his fire less effective.
Orders can be readily transmitted, advantage can be promptly taken of
every opportunity, and all efforts being directed to a common end, the
combat will be briefer and success more certain.
“Let officers and men be made to feel that they will most effectually
secure their safety by remaining steadily at their posts, preserving
order, and fighting with coolness and vigour. . . . Impress upon the
officers that discipline cannot be attained without constant
watchfulness on their part. They must attend to the smallest
particulars of detail. Men must be habituated to obey or they cannot be
controlled in battle, and the neglect of the least important order
impairs the proper influence of the officer.”[15]
That such a circular was considered necessary after the troops had been
nearly four years under arms establishes beyond all question that the
discipline of the Confederate army was not that of the regular troops
with whom General Lee had served under the Stars and Stripes; but it is
not to be understood that he attributed the deficiencies of his
soldiers to any spirit of resistance on their part to the demands of
subordination. Elsewhere he says: “The greatest difficulty I find is in
causing orders and regulations to be obeyed. This arises not from a
spirit of disobedience, but from ignorance.”[16] And here, with his
usual perspicacity, he goes straight to the root of the evil. When the
men in the ranks understand all that discipline involves, safety,
health, efficiency, victory, it is easily maintained; and it is because
experience and tradition have taught them this that veteran armies are
so amenable to control. “Soldiers,” says Sir Charles Napier, “must obey
in all things. They may and do laugh at foolish orders, but they
nevertheless obey, not because they are blindly obedient, but because
they know that to disobey is to break the backbone of their
profession.”
Such knowledge, however, is long in coming, even to the regular, and it
may be questioned whether it ever really came home to the Confederates.
In fact, the Southern soldier, ignorant, at the outset, of what may be
accomplished by discipline, never quite got rid of the belief that the
enthusiasm of the individual, his goodwill and his native courage, was
a more than sufficient substitute. “The spirit which animates our
soldiers,” wrote Lee, “and the natural courage with which they are so
liberally endowed, have led to a reliance upon those good qualities, to
the neglect of measures which would increase their efficiency and
contribute to their safety.”[17] Yet the soldier was hardly to blame.
Neither he nor his regimental officers had any previous knowledge of
war when they were suddenly launched against the enemy, and there was
no time to instil into them the habits of discipline. There was no
regular army to set them an example; no historic force whose traditions
they would unconsciously have adopted; the exigencies of the service
forbade the retention of the men in camps of instruction, and trained
instructors could not be spared from more important duties.
Such ignorance, however, as that which prevailed in the Southern ranks
is not always excusable. It would be well if those who pose as the
friends of the private soldier, as his protectors from injustice,
realised the mischief they may do by injudicious sympathy. The process
of being broken to discipline is undoubtedly gaffing to the instincts
of free men, and it is beyond question that among a multitude of
superiors, some will be found who are neither just nor considerate.
Instances of hardship must inevitably occur. But men and officers—for
discipline presses as hardly on the officers as on the men—must obey,
no matter at what cost to their feelings, for obedience to orders,
instant and unhesitating, is not only the life-blood of armies but the
security of States; and the doctrine that under any conditions whatever
deliberate disobedience can be justified is treason to the
commonwealth. It is to be remembered that the
end of the soldier’s existence is not merely to conduct himself as a
respectable citizen and earn his wages, but to face peril and
privations, not of his own free will, but at the bidding of others;
and, in circumstances where his natural instincts assert themselves
most strongly, to make a complete surrender of mind and body. If he has
been in the habit of weighing the justice or the wisdom of orders
before obeying them, if he has been taught that disobedience may be a
pardonable crime, he will probably question the justice of the order
that apparently sends him to certain death; if he once begins to think;
if he once contemplates the possibility of disobedience; if he permits
a single idea to enter his head beyond the necessity of instant
compliance, it is unlikely that he will rise superior to the promptings
of his weaker nature. _“Men must be habituated to obey or they cannot