A Summer Night's Dream
Volleys, Villages, Woods, and Mountains
This is the fourth post in a multi-part series. The first three installments can be found at the other end of the following links.
'The assertion that volleys are impossible under severe fire may be dealt with similarly. This assertion was in every one’s mouth after the last war, and is still frequently heard. Certainly volleys were impossible in the French War. But why? Because the noise of the firing line overpowered the command to fire a volley. One could have known that beforehand. Even with muzzle-loaders it was held that a line of skirmishers could not fire volleys. When the line advanced to fire volleys, the skirmishers were withdrawn, to prevent the noise of their fire spoiling the volleys.’
'It was after the introduction of the so-called ‘small volleys’ during peace time, i.e., before the last war, that volleys in the firing line were called for. Volleys are only possible when their use is universal; then they are more easily executed, even under heavy fire, than is the recent “stratified fire”, the name I give to your independent firing with a fixed number of cartridges. I think volleys should always be by sections, even when the company is in two ranks.'1
'You can only fix the number of rounds to be fired independently when a pause in firing occurs. But, giving such a pause, it is possible that the old words of command, “Present”, “Fire”, might produce a steadier and more certain fire than the order, ‘Two rounds independent firing.’
'Who will answer for a man, in the heat of action, not using more than two cartridges? Can you at such times watch each individual? When the number of cartridges is limited and the fire exceeds the proper limits, then the leader’s whistle must be used to obtain a fresh fire pause.
'Independent fire must not be allowed for any length of time without fire pauses, or it will lead to an unsteady losing of ammunition. Why, therefore, name the number of cartridges to be fired? It is an old military maxim that no order should be given, of which the execution is doubtful or cannot be controlled. If volleys are not to be used I would only give the word “Independent fire”, and insure pauses by the use of the whistle. The new fire regulations have, in fact, done away with the firing of the number of cartridges for independent fire.
'It is an error to suppose that independent fire causes more injury to the enemy than volleys. That fire is the most fatal in battle which is most quietly delivered and is least obscured by smoke; that fire is the volley.'
'What', I cried, 'after educating our men with the greatest trouble and labor up to a standard of individual independence, which excites the envy of other armies, will you again make them the machines they were in past centuries?'
'Machines! yes' said Hallen, after a little reflection, but with much emphasis. 'If Frederick’s grenadiers were machines, I should like to have such machines, which, come what might, would, like a machine, work on as long as there was steam in the boiler. Such machines continued firing even though half of them lay bleeding and dead on the ground. Oh, my friend, would that we could only again attain the fire discipline which then excited the admiration of the world and was the terror of our enemy.'
'But', continued he, 'universal service gives us now a better metal than the iron of which Frederick’s warriors were composed. The careful attention to the individual, which you just now mentioned, may convert this metal into the best steel. It will make the machine more flexible, omnipotent, and perfect.’
'I mean we are not to neglect the individual education of the soldier. We are not to take less trouble in awakening and strengthening the thinking power of the man. Neither should we omit to educate him in that independent action which our company training gives the man in patrol and outpost duties, in skirmishing, and in shooting. We need patrol leaders, and we also must have a great number of privates capable of replacing in war time, and especially in battle, the corporals and noncom- missioned officers who fall.’
'In reconnaissance, on outpost duty, in skirmishes between small bodies of troops, in close or wooded country, the real dispersed fight will still occur. But on the drill-ground or at maneuvers where the fight is practiced, not of patrols, or of companies, but of large bodies of troops, there should be nothing heard of individual independence and of individual fighting.’
'Any attempt to go outside the limits of the common task should be sternly repressed. The units must be held together with inexorable firmness: and, having got rid of the false humanity which has crept unnoticed into our style of war, we shall then erect on the foundation of our incomparable discipline, luckily still unshaken, a fire discipline unattainable under the present conditions.'
'What do you mean by the “abolition of false humanity” in our style of war?' I asked. 'Your ideas are so strange today, that perhaps you would like to reintroduce the stick and running the gauntlet?'
'Do not misunderstand me', answered Hallen, calmly. 'Frederick’s rough iron could only be kept in a good condition by severe means, which are not applicable to better materials. Nowadays the sense of honor nobly replaces the stick. I would change none of our punishments. I should, however, like a little less dry-nursing of the ranks. The false humanity of which I speak is less common in peace than in war.’
'To make my meaning clear I will give you two extracts, written by our great Scharnhorst, even before 1806. I take them from the interesting memoir of von der Goltz, Rossbach und Jena. I can quote them by heart, so often have I repeated them to myself.’
The first is: ‘Whatever method you may take to raise and kindle courage, courage should always be put in the first place; the brave men must be distinguished on every occasion, and any ambiguous conduct must be covered with shame. Failing these requirements, it will be vain to expect any great deed of arms in this age; and, further, there will be danger of creating nervousness and want of courage. The moral attributes are never at rest; they fall as soon as they cease to rise.’
'Now I think we are not wanting in rewards for courage and distinguished conduct in the field; but how about the attention paid to dealing with doubtful conduct and the punishment of cowardice? The second extract from Scharnhorst reads: “Of late, punishments in most armies have taken a peculiar turn. If a soldier quarrels with a comrade, a peasant, or clerk, he is punished severely, but we overlook his throwing away his arms after a defeat or leaving the battlefield before his comrades, and the like.” What officer, who had a company in the last war, does not feel the point of these lines come home to him.’
'Certainly we did not reach the stage of throwing away arms after a defeat, but, on the other hand, how many cases there were of men leaving the fight before their comrades! These men would press themselves into a furrow or behind a bush, lay down their arms and knapsack, and wait in security till the fight was over. Which should be punished most severely - the throwing away arms, when all is lost and fear benumbs the limbs, or the sneaking away and laying down arms while comrades are advancing victoriously?'
'Some time ago I heard a story, which I must quote at length, not because it is singular, but because it is typical. A boy officer is on outpost duty before a French fortress with his half-platoon.’ He hears a sharp musketry fire in his front, and resolves to advance his picket to the edge of the wood before him, as he will then be able to see some distance. On the way a sergeant, an old one-year volunteer, asks permission to go back and get his great coat, which he has forgotten. The request is refused.’
'The little picket holds a pit in a brickfield, and is opposed by a line of skirmishers, firing vigorously, but too far off for the needle-guns to be used in reply. The enemy perceived and fires at the picket. The young officer forbids his men to fire, and instructs them to advance to within 600 paces of the enemy. He places himself in front of his half-platoon, calls out, 'Double, march!’ and runs as quickly as he can to the place whence he intends opening fire.’
'Who can describe his horror-stricken amazement when, on arriving, he sees that but three men have followed him. Shame and anger strive within him. If a superior has seen this! There is nothing for it but to return and bring up his half-platoon.2 Then the men tell him that the sergeant had kept them, back, saying he was a sergeant and was not going to advance. The men were to stop where they were, and he would take the responsibility.'
'What was done to this sergeant? From that time forward, whenever there appeared to be any likelihood of fighting, he was sent to the baggage guard, and when he was before Paris he was given work in the kitchen. All this cannot have been pleasant to him. The company would not endure the shame of bring- ing a noncommissioned officer before a court-martial on a charge of cowardice. No; it preferred to bear the secret shame of leaving such a noncommissioned of- ficer unpunished, though he was a bad example for weak men, and caused rage to strong men.'
'That is one of many similar cases. There lies the weakness of modern times. I call it false humanity.'
'I must tell you', said I, 'I think it extremely doubtful whether much can be gained by punishment in such a case. How is it possible, in the course of a modern fight, to know which of your men have really ‘skulked’? How can you decide whether the stragglers have remained behind from cowardice or, having been separated from their unit by no fault of their own, have remained behind from not knowing what to do?'
'You could have given yet another reason', interposed my friend. 'If things happen in the next war as in the last, the number of the stragglers will be so great as to render their punishment impossible.'
'According to the official history, at Gravelotte, on the 18th of August, forty- three companies of different regiments were at one and the same time in the Auberge of St. Hubert. You have seen the farmhouse, and know the building is scarcely large enough to contain a single company on war strength, especially when you remember that the low garden was commanded from Moskow farm—and under a heavy fire. Forty- three companies are more than 10,000 men. Where were the 9800 men who had no room? This is another typical instance. No one wishes to reproach these troops; the blame rests on our style of fighting.'
'So long as we retain this style, it is useless to contend against the crowd- ing together of masses. Of course, in bygone days, there were men who had no leader, but only when troops had been broken, which meant that the game was over for them. But now this epidemic of withdrawing from the battle begins with the game, and spreading with pestilential rapidity, rages over the battlefield like a fever.
'The private must have some sense of duty and some courage; yes, even heroic steadfastness—not to follow the tempting example of others—to with- stand the charm which every tree, every furrow, every ditch has for him, when he knows he can gain security without risk of punishment. It says much for the sterling stuff in our men that we still have so many heroes.'
When fighting in close order with his own comrades and his own leader, the soldier will keep his place in the hour of danger without being a hero. Here the weak are supported by the strong; here the power of discipline, the influence of the strict drills in peace time, and the authority of the leader prevail.'
'In dispersion it is difficult to be stead- fast, in close order it is difficult to be weak. Under the leader’s influence, the example of the strong impels the whole. Among the leaderless, the example of the confused and the cowards has the upper hand.'
'It is not, of course, impossible for individuals to withdraw from the fight, even when in close formations. The leader cannot always have time to in- quire whether all who fall are actually wounded. But to avoid the common danger under such circumstances, and in such a manner, argues a grave degree of insubordination. A man capable of such conduct should be punished with the utmost severity. There will not be many of them, especially when they know that, if caught, no mercy will be shown.'
'‘The dispersed fight encourages natural cowardice, which, to say truth, is to be found in us all', wrote a thoughtful man before Jena. He was right; still, as we were beaten in 1806, they said he was wrong. Would one still say that today?'
'Do you consider it possible to maintain close order under a heavy fire?' I asked.
'Certainly', answered Hallen. 'Have not Prussian lines, two miles in length, held together and closed up till two- thirds of their number lay on the ground. A well-seasoned company will certainly not fall to pieces till its fighting power is completely shattered. In the moment of danger, a well-disciplined company rather inclines to close up than to disperse. The continual drills in dispersed order now diametrically oppose this inclination. Cease to skirmish in large bodies; teach the soldier to close up at all drills. Call to assistance the habits of discipline and training, which have already been so extraordinarily successful in smaller matters. There will then be no reason to doubt that close order will be maintained under any circumstances, especially in small detachments, which will easily escape the enemy’s fire by utilizing the natural features of the ground.
'But many will cry out, ‘What losses this will cause!’ I know you will have no quarrel with me on this score. I will therefore only make three brief remarks on this point.
'1st. Platoons in close order and single rank really offer no better target than clouds of skirmishers.
'2nd. That formation will lose least in a fight which can do most injury to the enemy.
'3rd. An army which either suffers from or is not quite recovered from the malady of fearing losses must wage no war, for war is pitiless, and regards not the life of man.
'Our national strength does not lie in dispersion, where each man fights for himself. Whenever we have made our mark in history, discipline and fidelity detachments in close order, either in the open or in close country. This art can and must be still further perfected. Then we shall be able to fight advantageously in any sort of country. By close order, I do not mean any rigid adherence to the letter of the word. For of course you must turn natural obstacles, not run your head against them. My close order will open the ranks when necessary, but close them again when the necessity is passed.
'The temporary opening of the ranks is not the dispersed fight. If troops who know no other style of fighting than close order come under fire while the ranks are opened, as soon as the ground allows of it they will strive to again form single rank sections in close order; and this is exactly what I want. It is precisely in cramped country, that you most need cohesion and dash, since here all the advantages are on the side of the determined attack. Nowhere is extended order, when constantly maintained, more unsuitable and dangerous than in such country.
'Cavalry is certainly a close-order arm, and exactly because it is so it must posses in a high degree the faculty of dispersing temporarily and rallying quickly. If its education is defective in this respect, then it remains dependent on the nature of the country, and can only attack on plains. But if it possesses this faculty to perfection, then even intricate country is no obstacle. It can then rival Frederick’s squadrons, who at Hohenfriedburg crossed the Streigauer River in the face of hostile cavalry, and then, to the astonishment of the enemy, forming into line, gained a brilliant victory. Thirty-one of these squadrons again crossed at Zorndorf the difficult Zabern Bottom, on which the Russian right flank rested; then, forming under fire, they rode down the whole of the enemy’s right wing. You will find much that is valuable on this point in Hohenlohe’s Letters on Cavalry.
'The same acute observer, who uttered the drastic words 'skirmishing encourages our inborn cowardice', wrote before 1806 a memoir against the introduction of the dispersed fight into the infantry of the line. But of course you know that there is an excerpt from this memoir in Rossbach and Jena.
'This memoir says, that even in cramped or wooded country there is no necessity for skirmishing. A battalion advancing through bush and forest must of course open its ranks, and if necessary, let the men march singly. But that is not skirmishing. The spirit of the attack in close order remains still in the battalion. When it meets a line of skirmishers, of whose work it knows nothing, it advances rapidly and most likely beats the enemy thoroughly. Then comes a paragraph to this effect:
A battalion, however, which has tasted the delights of hiding in ditches and holes, and thence bravely loosing off its sixty cartridges, will never miss the opportunity of renewing this pleasant experience. It will, whenever a natural obstacle presents itself, leave the ranks instead of advancing, creep into every hole and corner, and bravely fire away, appeasing its military conscience by sound and smoke, and leaving the further attack to others. There may be exceptions, but whoever denies the truth of these pictures either knows nothing of war and human nature, or is governed by prejudice.
'The author of this memoir was no prophet. The Prussians were beaten but not, as it is generally stated, because they could not skirmish. They were beaten because their military and political indecision was pitted against Napoleon’s war genius; because of the disjointed way in which they brought their forces into the battle and allowed them to be beaten piecemeal, and, finally, because they were unable to do what the writer of the memoir took for granted, viz., to open ranks when advancing through cramped and wooded country while preserving the spirit of close order. We could, in fact, only fight in the plain.
'If at Jena, Prussian or Saxon battalions had at once penetrated the Isserstadts woods and expelled the enemy’s skirmishers, the French center at Vierzehnheiligen, which was weak and exposed, would have been in an awkward position and might have suffered defeat. But we did not know what to do with a wood. We let the enemy have it. He then, collecting sufficient numbers there, rolled up the flank of our line which had successfully withstood all frontal attacks.
'We stood perplexed before the villages of Vierzehnheiligen and Hassenhausen after we had driven the enemy into and behind them, and were in a position to attack with a probability of success. But the storm of a village was something unheard of at this time, and so we remained firing, undecidedly, in front of them till our front was shot to pieces and a flank attack rolled us up. Had we really known what that acute writer considered the true method of fighting in inclosed country; if we had not avoided woods and villages, though the day might not have been won, yet the brave troops who withstood the frontal attack till every second man was hors de combat would have caused the fame of the battlefield of Jena and Auerstadt to belong to the army and tactics of Frederick. 'If I am not mistaken, it is the Prince de Ligne who compares line tactics to a porcelain vase, which no sooner comes in contact with any object than it shatters. Such were line tactics in that year of misfortune 1806. But the comparison to the porcelain vase is not applicable to the fighting tactics of Frederick’s troops. Those troops did not fear either wood or hedge fighting, when they drove the enemy’s light troops out of their hiding places into the vineyards of Lobositz, or when they opened their ranks to storm the village of Leuthen and then made a fresh attack on the position behind. Further, we find them in Hochkirch, stubbornly defending the churchyard wall.
'If, instead of shelving this method of fighting, we had developed farther the use of cover in the field, we should have escaped the general use of ex- tended order, and should have been farther advanced than we are, and I should not have had to inflict on you this long talk about the dispersed fight. The rejuvenated line tactics, which I believe to be the coming tactics, will only differ from those buried at Jena in resembling India rubber rather than porcelain. They will not prove brittle and crumbling when confronted with natural obstacles, but will elastically accommodate themselves to the ground.
'This new style of fighting will be simple, flexible, capable of extension, but infrangible, assuming any shape at will, but always returning to its original form. The task of future fire tactics will be to unite the old close order and strict fire discipline with the modern art of utilizing cover. The parts played by villages and woods in the fight will then be reduced to their proper dimensions. In the present century, they have been as much depreciated as overvalued. Formerly, we Prussians anxiously avoided them; now, in the dispersed fight, we fly to them. The tactics of the future will be free from such extremes. They will neither fear nor seek wood or village.’
‘Frederick the Great most strictly forbade placing men in houses, considering their use in this way as a cause of disaster. His theory has been laughed at during the period of dispersed fight tactics. People could see no harm in confusion; no objection to allowing every man to fight independently. They shut their eyes to the risk of shutting up troops in a village which, when lost, gave the enemy a crowd of unwounded prisoners. Not the desire for order and unity, but the immense searching effect of modern artillery fire on villages and houses, has lately led to the conviction that as a rule, houses cannot be regarded as desirable cover.
'The tactician, of the future, as, I think, will agree in the great king’s prohibi- tion, but in a modified form. He will allow houses to be garrisoned in certain cases, but never at the option of private soldiers. This does not at all imply that villages will not continue to be of great value to the defense; their value will not lie in the shelter they give a garrison, but in the excellent cover they will give to troops posted behind them. Villages always give good cover for movement of troops. Villages will, therefore, still be included in the line of defense, not with a view to occupying them, but rather in order to use them as cover for the supports and reserves. The firing line will either be placed in the encircling line of gardens, or better still, in shelter trenches close in front and on the flanks.
'In the attack on a village, care should be taken after driving the enemy out of the outskirts, to concentrate all available forces on its flanks, and so bring about its fall. It is a grave mistake when troops have become disordered by the fight for the outskirts, to allow them, while so disordered, to enter a village in scattered bodies. Only a small force, kept well in hand; should be sent into the village. A house-to-house fight can generally be avoided by a thorough artillery preparation, and by advancing quickly on the flanks.' 'I quite agree with you', I said; 'but, nevertheless, cases occur where a house-to-house fight in unavoidable, as at Bazeilles.'
'Yes', answered Hallen. 'Bazeilles is an exceptional case. No fight took place for the outskirts of the village, the two forces met inside the place, and as neither would give way, a street fight was inevitable. Even so, the gradual entanglement of more than sixteen battalions of the Saxon and I. Bavarian Corps might well have been avoided. Officers and troops educated in my tactics would avoid this.'
'The decision of this fight should not have been sought in the village itself. The street fighting would have been decided instantly in favor of the Germans, if the heights north of Bazeilles and west of La Moncelle had been taken. Unluckily this did not happen till the fight had been going on for seven hours, in and around Bazeilles and La Moncelle, and had swallowed up the greater part of the I. Bavarian Corps.'
'Even before 7 A.M., weak detachments from the Saxon left wing had gained possession of some houses close to these heights, and for hours, without assistance, heroically held possession of them against the full force of Lacretelle’s division. I was not, however, till 11 o’clock that detachments of the Bavarian right, the Saxon left, and of the reserve, accidentally working together, established themselves on the heights.'
'Then the resistance of the French in Bazeilles at once collapsed. Had the I. Bavarian Corps resisted the attraction of the village, and directed its chief efforts to the capture of these heights, the dreadful struggle would have been shortened, and the greater part of the infantry of the corps would have been spared the effect produced by it.'
'No one wishes to reproach the veteran Bavarian Corps, or its able leader, for having acted in the spirit of the age. I blame only the system of tactics.' 'You allow then', I said, 'that cases may occur where a street fight is unavoidable. Will your infantry fight in close order, even then?'
'If houses have to be occupied, of course you cannot do that in close order', answered Hallen, quietly; 'but it does not follow that every house you hold should be crammed with soldiers. It is enough to occupy the houses which command the streets and gardens; and for such work as few picked men are better than a crow, whose heads would soon be turned by a bad example. All troops not garrisoning houses, but hold- ing hedges and walls, those in reserve, or those who are to make counter attacks in the streets and gardens, must be in close order.'
'Of course they will, from time to time, detach skirmishers when necessary. Does it follow that because it may once in a way be necessary to place a small portion of infantry by themselves in house, the entire infantry must therefore necessarily and always fight in dispersed order and in crowds? I have no fear that troops, educated as I wish to see them, will prove inferior to others in street fighting; they will, at all events, strive harder to win and skulk less.’
'With respect to woods: they must cease to be “filters into which entire brigades are poured”, and dropped out in little driblets on the other side. The unfortunate experience of the last war has caused the fact to be generally recognized that men must be kept together in woods; and if the enemy be met there, he must be charged at all costs.
'Of what use were the men who were strewn among the thickets of a dense French forest? When the enemy charged along all the roads, paths, and open places, our men fell into his hands without striking a blow. In open woods, with the high and bare trunks so common in our own country, of course the advance must take the form of a firing line, but it should not consist of skirmishers.'
'Even in the most open woods, except in roads and glades, you can seldom see farther than about a hundred yards. The encounters take place therefore at murderously close distances. All depends here in being the first to attack, using magazine volleys and the bayonet. This is the proper place for united action. Therefore do not advance in dispersed order, but in single rank platoons in close order, opening files from time to time.’
'The attack must often place a particular value on woods, as giving the means of approaching the enemy’s position under cover. If woods are not to play the mischievous role of filters, we must understand the art of leading, with all due precautions, large bodies of troops in close order through any description of wood, and of deploying them under cover at the further edge without difficulty. Then at the required moment they can move out united, and commence the attack with a closed front. Such skill can only be acquired by much practice. It will be a new force added to the fight in close order.'
'And how will you work in mountains?' I asked.
'In mountains my single rank platoons will be able to go wherever the mod- ern cloud of skirmishers can. Where, however, only individuals can move, any fight must necessarily be a sort of outpost skirmish, and the education required for this work can only be learnt in the field and on the ranges, not on the drill- ground. Such fight- ing, being a series of duels, calls for an independence quite different from that of each man in a crowd fighting on his own account. The later style is hurtful, and to be avoided; the former is a very high form of training, which we should seek to attain.'
'Even though not prepared', I interposed, 'to give, on the spur of the moment, a fitting reply to all you say; nevertheless, I cannot convince myself that the close order you desire can be maintained under all circumstances. Natural obstacles will play queer tricks with it, and the confusion of the fight will make it more dangerous than the present style of fighting.'
'Natural obstacles play the queerest tricks with the modern so-called dispersed fight, by absorbing thousands of troops, and withdrawing them from the fight', answered Hallen, very calmly; 'and the confusion of the fight is greatest where there is least cohesion. Certainly, even the best disciplined troops have moments when they lose both order and cohesion; but the more they have been accustomed to close order fight- ing, the more harm they will cause the enemy, the less frequent will be such movements, and the greater probability will there be of their speedily regaining order. When men say it is impossible to escape moments of disorder in battle, and that therefore you must give up order and organize disorder beforehand, I am astonished. It is as if a man, afraid of being shot in battle, should at once commit suicide.'
'I now come to a phenomenon', continued my friend, 'a consequence of the dispersed fight, and one of the chief causes of the frightful mobs which characterized all important infantry engagements in 1870. This phenomenon was the effort of the lieutenant to release himself from company ties, and the similar effort of his captain to release himself from battalion ties, in order to seek opportunities of distinction by individual acts of heroism. The abolition of the dispersed fight is not sufficient to bring order into the combat of greater units without first rooting out this vice. However, as long as officers know that in such deeds lies their best chance of decorations and of honorable mention in official histories, so long will the evil be invincible. Unfortunately there are people who regard this manner of getting out of hand as a particularly praiseworthy quality of our infantry. The fact that such unsound views should be possible proves that the habit of fighting in crowds is rotten to the very core.’
‘Perhaps in Homeric days such uncontrolled heroism was in place, but it becomes an evil in the disciplined bodies of the nineteenth century. It is not the heroism of individual groups, but the directed union and order of masses which gains the victory today. I am also of opinion that the man who can only be brave on his own account, is not brave enough for a leader. I prefer that courage which executes its allotted task most exactly and punctiliously, indifferent whether such work leads the men under fire, through cover or across the open, against the enemy’s front or flank; indifferent as to whether the task promises a brilliant victory or involves certain death for the general good. I prefer such disciplined courage to the valor which, for instance, makes its own way to a point whence, from undercover, it can reach some guns of the enemy, already out of action.’
'An officer behaves dishonorably who, without regard either for the common weal or his commanding officer, leads off himself and his men to achieve a personal act of heroism. His motive is a selfish one. Real ambition, the proudest characteristic of a soldier resting on the feelings of honor and duty, has nothing in common with such conduct. I will say nothing about that bolting forward, which consists in marching to the sound of the guns. All “bolters” should be punished, not rewarded.'
'There need be no fear of killing the dash of our officers by forbidding them to leave the path of duty. Every German officer knows that honor forbids him to remain idle where circumstances call for, or permit energetic action.'
To be continued …
As soon as each installment of this series rolls of the press, a link to it will appear on the following guide.
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As a rule, Captain Gawne uses ‘section’ to translate Gruppe (‘squad’). In this instance, however, it may mean ‘platoon’.
The translator employs ‘half-platoon’ to translate Halbzug, a unit of forty or so men formed by splitting an eighty-man platoon (Zug) into two parts.