Fore-armed

The science of war is never stationary. While in times of peace the evolution of armament and tactics, as a rule, are gradual and slow, during active operations, revolutionary changes may take place over night. Of such the first to come to mind was the encounter between the Merrimac and Monitor. These little ships, in their memorable battle, were the forerunners of the superdreadnaught. From such small beginnings nearly all radical military alterations arrive.

Therefore, in any study of preparedness we must watch closely successive military operations. The present European war will bring about a revolution in military science. The change may be more complete than that which marked the Napoleonic period, more radical than the era that saw the introduction of gunpowder. As the battle of Harfleur marked the change of military tactics in the fifteenth century, so will the battle of the Marne record the alteration of tactics in the twentieth century. During this battle, aeroplanes were first extensively used in “spotting,” which is a colloquial artillery term meaning to locate and indicate the range of enemy batteries.

The aged-proved axioms of strategy will always remain the same, yet the European war has evolved an extraordinary evolution in armament.

Already we see the first stages of war in the air in the sustained maneuvering of squads of Zeppelins. It would be safe to predict that soon battles as decisive as any waged on land or sea will be fought out in the sky. The air raids and the isolated combats that are matters of daily occurrence along the Franco-German fighting front will eventually develop into carefully planned operations by huge fleets of air craft, seeking to achieve a definite military objective. That these flying squadrons will meet other aerial armadas determined to defeat them, is obvious.

Before taking up the study of the possibilities of war in the air, it is essential that we examine the extraordinary military situation on the face of the earth. The year 1915 has seen nearly all Europe a vast testing ground of war’s basic elements. All the newest devices contrived by man for the killing of his fellowman have been tried out. The result is a vicious circle in the science of war. The new methods of defense are about equal to the new inventions for destruction. So that, finally, war still hinges on the hand-to-hand encounters.

The experts who theorized about the effect of modern weapons before the war, declared that battles would be conducted with immense intervals separating the contending forces. The killing power of the modern rifle was so great that troops could not approach within a mile of one another. But experience refutes theories. The trench lines of armies are now sometimes only ten yards apart.

Against the magazine rifle and the machine gun, the charge was impossible, the bayonet obsolete, said the wise ones. Far from being the fact, the charge is a nightly maneuver and the bayonet, especially the hand variety, is still the best weapon the soldier carries.

The military situation in Europe, in its present anomalous stage, is a heavy indictment of man’s vaunted development; he finds himself in the science of war, to which he has applied his best skill and brain power, little farther advanced after centuries of effort than the cave man. But the situation cannot remain as it is. There are factors behind the fighting lines that absolutely forbid the indefinite continuation of the existing state of war.

Strategy is the method employed to bring an enemy to battle. Its end is to wipe the enemy out of existence. In principle, this purpose of combat is eternal. Tactics, that is, troop handling, on the contrary, is no more stable than the weather.

A century ago Napoleon told us “tactics change every ten years.” Most of our modern generals seem to have overlooked this dictum. Within the last year the wisdom of the master tactician has been attested anew. Old tactical theories lie buried in the modern trench. Today we enter the period of subway warfare. The trench nullifies the most carefully thought-out plan of attack. It has made the maneuver battle a matter of history.

Fighting of real armies has come to the stage realized a decade ago in football—mass formation. But as mass formation produced a disproportion of disabled players, so the present offensives produce a war wastage out of all relation to results. The problem before the present commanders is to cut down that wastage and win.

That swift and decisive operations in France and Flanders by any belligerent are indefinitely postponed, was three times conclusively demonstrated by three separate attacks—the French in Champagne, the English at Loos, and the Germans at Verdun.

These attacks proved that, under the conditions which now hold, it is impossible to penetrate well-defended trench lines with sufficient numbers of victors to achieve a position of dominant strategic advantage. True, the offensives resulted in the capture of men, guns and positions, but the profit thereof was not worth the wastage.

The battle line in the west is rigid. In this hypothesis military problems are analyzed solely on the conditions in France and Flanders. Having cast the battle maneuver into the limbo of oblivion, what plan shall we substitute?

Forces along limited fronts can capture sections of the first, second and even the third line trenches, but there they must stop. No attack can maintain its propulsive power beyond the third line. The losses are too large; the winners who survive too few to hold. This first formula of modern warfare has been proved past all dispute.

Trench construction is now elaborated beyond all previous conception. Troops live like moles. Belgium and France are gridironed with tunnels, saps and ditches. In some districts the third line trenches are dug five miles in rear of the first. The intervening acreage is a forest of abatis. High and low wire entanglements spring like hop vines from the hill slopes. Deadly pitfalls with long impaling stakes planted at the bottom await the enemy. So when the stanchest regiments reach the third lines there remains but a group of shattered squads. Cohesion and direction are lost.

Supporting artillery fire is ineffective. The sources of ammunition dry up like a trickling stream in the desert. The assault dies. When new men and new ammunition are again gathered, the battle chiefs plan another offensive. The commanders are obsessed by the vision of that maneuver myth, “the Gap.” They reason, the enemy’s lines once pierced, all precedents demand that he retire. Unfortunately, past performances have no bearing on present warfare.

When Marshal von Mackensen inaugurated his idea of artillery in column-firing formation and cut the Russian front in Galicia, many military students thought this the beginning of startling new maneuvers. But when conditions were analyzed it was found that von Mackensen’s success was in large measure due to Russian ammunition failure.

The French curtain of fire is a variation of the German expedient. The defect in this use of artillery is the enormous expenditure. Shells are sown into the soil like seeds in a wheat field.

As Napoleon solved the tactical problems of other days, so I expect the trench dead-lock to be broken by a Frenchman. The French are the most ingenious of the contending nations. Unfortunately, they have not had complete command of all the forces in the field. This prevents them from attempting the extended “push and grip” action. Such action would be an assault along the total occupied frontage, from Nieuport to Belfort, 450 miles, with the object of gripping sections of the enemy’s position wherever weakness develops. It must always be preceded by the longest possible artillery fire.

Perhaps the near future will witness a maneuver which the tacticians have deemed impossible, a battle won with great guns alone. Man wastage is the woe of this war. The grim specter of the end of the human supply haunts every commander. It takes eighteen years to make a man, and hardly more than eighteen minutes to turn a shell. What the ratio of killing power may be has not been determined.

In the future we shall see artillery actions maintained continuously, not only 72 hours, but 144, even 200 hours. These bombardments will be one continual drum-roll of death. Can men, even when they are not hit, live under this deluge of shells? Some, perhaps, but the majority will be driven mad by the noise. The attacked area will be one great crater of smouldering débris. What with the man-made meteorites that disembowel great sections of the earth, dropping with the density of hail, the spread of poisonous vapors, the shrieks of the dying at night and all the incident horrors of bombardment, such a battlefield will be hell in miniature.

Add to this a vast subterranean attack, such as 50 or even 100 mines exploded simultaneously, and we reach the limit of ground and underground fighting.

What develops in aerial warfare is of vital interest to the United States. Like England, we have been asleep while our neighbors labored to produce a mechanical contrivance the world influence of which is beyond the flights of wildest fancy. The dirigible is the ship of the future. Out of the experience of this war it will come to be the great commercial carrier of the ages.

Look at the Zeppelin without prejudice excited by its early failures, and you will see a war vessel of infinite possibilities. Today it is in its infancy. Ten years from today the Zeppelin will be more mighty in radius and armament than the Nevada.

When in Berlin during the first period of the war I met a German officer who spoke often of an aerial invasion of England. At the time the plan seemed absurd. Since then I have seen the first Zeppelin come to London. The ghostly cylinder swam over the city while the searchlights centered their silver rays upon it. It looked to be as long as a surface car. My ear caught the faint purr of distant machinery. This sound was soon drowned in the muffled roar of bursting bombs.

Suddenly athwart the night sky a flashing meteor circled and burst with a sharp crack. Others came quickly in the wake of the first, showing the frantic haste of the men firing the anti-aircraft guns. The shrapnel spattered the sky with great globules of gold. Suddenly and mysteriously the monstrous silver cylinder shot up into the heavens, to be seen no more.

Then out of the west, burning buildings sent a red flare up into the night. Against this crimson haze the dome and cross of St. Paul’s was sharply silhouetted. Such was the first battle in the air. Dull indeed must be the imagination that was not stirred by the sight. Since then there can be no doubt that the airship will be a vital factor in future wars.

At present no other nation save Germany has a dirigible fleet worthy of the name. I heed the oft-repeated statement that the Zeppelin has not proved itself an auxiliary to the fighting forces. Perhaps as yet it can claim no startling success. But to assume no effective work from this “fourth arm” in the near future would be the height of military folly.

England commands the seas, and Germany commands the air. Out of this condition will come a contest that will shatter old military methods and maxims. The world will see the most astounding raid ever attempted. All these isolated attacks on the English coast—experimental practice trips—clearly foretell one end—an air invasion of England.

The experts in aeronautics agree such invasion is feasible. Combining all the aircraft available in the British Isles, including the Greek letter classes of airships, such a fleet would be no match for the flying craft Germany could put in the skies. Yet England boasts an aggregate of 15,000 aeroplanes.

Let me quote from F. C. Lancaster, the expert English aerial engineer:

“When, however, the weather conditions are favorable to attack, also in the case of attack by night, there is no means of defense at present known to the author which would prevent the enemy from inflicting enormous damage if he attack in sufficient numerical force and be prepared to attack with determination in spite of any losses he may sustain; no reasonable superiority in the defending aircraft, either individually or numerically, can be entirely effective.

“Neither can we pin our faith to counter aircraft artillery; under the conditions in question it may prove useless.... The raids which have been hitherto carried out are quite trivial and ineffective affairs compared with what in due course will become possible.”

These words are prophetic. In actual maneuvers, prepare to see flights by 100, 200—yes, 500 aeroplanes. These will be craft of all sizes and construction. The giant triplane is a fact. But aeroplane improvement will not stop there. The Skyorsky aeroplane, a mighty Russian machine that has carried sixteen passengers, points to future progress. The quadriplane, with a crew and armament equal in effect to an undersea boat, and capable of a 1000-mile flight at a speed rate of 100 miles an hour, is no mere figment of fancy.

The only check on air war is the dearth of trained fliers. When they are recruited in sufficient numbers on both sides, look for revolutionizing changes in the methods of conducting war.

No maneuvering army will be complete without an auxiliary air fleet. It is possible the air fleet will be the attacking force, and the earth-anchored infantry and guns act only as a supporting factor. No man can yet foresee how the “fourth arm” will be employed in grand tactics.

It needs no prophetic vision to foresee the development of the submarine. From the first, naval constructors have been working toward an undersea craft of greater radius and greater displacement. No mechanical problem forbids the 5000-ton submarine with a 6000-mile radius; such ships will probably take the waters this year.

A new type of periscope is being evolved which may vastly improve the undersea boats. But these rovers will find their raids more severely blocked than ever.

The “antisubmersible” is a new type of ship on the English roster. It is an elaboration of the swift launches used to combat the undersea ships in the English Channel and the Mediterranean. On these craft a special cast of gun will be mounted capable of throwing a subsea shell. Such at least is the claim.

The Merrimac and the Monitor changed the navies of the world over night. A new submarine invention might achieve the same results. With the discovery of the subsea light ray, this would happen. Only find some method of making clear the course of the submarine while it cruises beneath the waves, and you increase its service a thousand fold. Unseen and unsuspected, it might prowl the waters of the seven seas, scuttling ships of all enemies unmolested.

At present one submarine cannot fight another, because one submarine cannot see another. To send a submarine out to find and destroy a submarine would be like sending a blind man out in a city to find another blind man.

Give the submarine but one eye, and the mightiest superdreadnaught goes to the scrap heap. The naval change of 1863 may be paralleled in 1916.

Americans are first in the fields of mechanics, so this chapter is inserted with the intention of turning the minds of some of our inventors into channels that may serve in war. We have given the world both the submarine and the aeroplane. Let it be hoped we have not delivered a weapon into the hands of our enemy while we remain unarmed.