Desertion in the US Army (III)

Victorian Armies

Let us inquire into the causes which produce this result. As the strength of a chain is measured by its weakest link, so is the reputation of men in uniform determined by the behavior of the worst class who wear that uniform. One soldier in uniform, drunk in the street, brings disgrace upon all his comrades. The vices of the soldier are noted, while his virtues are ignored; for we only count the broken panes in a window.

The general impression among civilians is that the Army is composed of the off-scourings of society. Nor should we wonder at this opinion; the fault lies at our own door. Those officers who make reports concerning the character of the enlisted man generally know the least about him. This constant cry of “the necessity of elevating the standard of our enlisted strength,” though made by those who have but slight knowledge of the present standard, naturally has an effect upon the reading public. The company officers who, by close and constant association with the enlisted man, learn his character, do not make annual reports.

“But “fools rush in where angels fear to tread,” and we find that a chaplain, who evidently knows as much of the character of the enlisted man as he does of the personal appearance of Moses, has, by means of a monthly periodical, edited by himself, done more in eight months to injure the character of the enlisted man than he can ever undo, though he should devote the remainder of his life to reparation.

It matters not that we know him to be profoundly ignorant of the subject which he treats. The civilian reader does not know this. He only knows that this writer is an army chaplain, and, there- fore, reasons thus: “A chaplain of all officers must have a knowledge of the soldier’s inner nature. He is the spiritual adviser and also the confidant of the enlisted man. He must know the true character and moral “needs of the soldier.”

When, therefore, this chaplain dwells at length upon the prevalence of intemperance in the Army, and finally states that, in ability to purchase intoxicating liquor the soldier should, by legislation, be classed with the Indian, the civilian must believe the average enlisted man a drunkard, whose indulgence in intoxicating liquor is limited only by the amount of his pay.

What constitutes moderate, and what immoderate, drinking cannot be mathematically defined; neither can the adjective “tall.” But if we say that John Doe is a tall man, we mean that his stature is greater than that of the average man. So, if we say that soldiers, as a rule, drink immoderately, we must mean that they drink more than the same number of men in other walks of life. By comparison, then, we can as- certain the truth or falsity of this statement; and while for obvious reasons an exact comparison is impossible, still we can make one exact enough for our purpose.

In the United States the average family group consists of five persons. Consequently, in a town of five hundred inhabitants, there are about one hundred adult males. As intemperance is almost universally confined to adult males, the “drinking-power” (if I may coin a term) of one hundred soldiers may be fairly compared to that of a town of five hundred inhabitants.

This standard established, let us compare soldier and civilian. The position of post-trader at a two-company post (strength about one hundred) is not, by any means, considered a prize, although exclusive privilege of trade (not only in liquors, but also in dry goods, groceries, etc.) is guaranteed. Yet we often see towns of five hundred inhabitants with two, and sometime more, saloons.

In Fort Leavenworth, located in a prohibition State, with a large “outside” (i.e., civilian) trade, the bar-receipts of the post-trader do not average one and one-half dollars per month for each enlisted man of the garrison. Yet he has the exclusive privilege of trading in a post of seven hundred enlisted men; which (the saloon portion) must be compared with the exclusive privilege of selling liquor in a town of thirty-five hundred inhabitants.

But Abilene, Kansas, “one of the most thriving, intelligent, and moral communities in the State,” with a population of four thousand had, in 1884, six saloons, and one wholesale liquor house. And Elgin, Illinois, with a population of about 15,000, a strong temperance element, and a license fee of $500, had in 1887, twenty-six saloons, or one to every 577 inhabitants.

But it may be argued that, by the show- ing of Dept. Judge Advocates, drunkenness is the cause of half the court- martial trials in the Army. We must remember, however, that what is sometimes called “forgetfulness,” “indisposition,” or “a slight headache,” in civil life, is classed as drunkenness in the Army; also that the enlisted man is under almost constant supervision, and that the slightest dereliction or omission, in which intoxicating liquor plays even the smallest part, is classed as “caused by drunkenness” in those yearly reports, which few read, and none understand.

I have briefly sketched the life of the private soldier; a monotonous present, with but slight hope for the future: restrained at home and slandered abroad. Some may say that the Private has always hope of promotion. But what means has the Captain of determining the relative merits of his private soldier?

He has three, two positive, and one negative, and all imperfect. The first is the statement of the First Sergeant, the most valuable, but still, second-hand. The second is the number of times a man has “taken orderly,” a method manifestly unjust, as it is not cleanliness of accoutrements, but their brilliancy, that is compared by the Adjutant at guard-mounting. Thus, the soldier who has the patience, or rather the stolidity, to rub a piece of leather for six hours per day, is selected orderly and accounted — a good soldier. The third method is the absence of reports for military offenses.

According to these methods, the man who plods through his routine of duty, rubs his accoutrements diligently, and is careful neither to miss a roll-call nor to offend the First Sergeant, is in a fair way for promotion. While a man, no matter how competent, who neglects these important particulars, is apt to serve as a private until he is discharged — or deserts. So much for the hope of promotion.

Therefore, in reply to the question, “What causes desertion in our army?”

I answer: 1st. The monotony of the soldier’s life; 2d. Its unnecessary restraints; 3d. The low social position of the enlisted man.

If we can remedy these evils we will largely prevent desertion. Legislation is not needed. The regulation-making power can of itself apply the remedy, which is to make the soldier’s life more pleasant. This can be done without either increasing the cost to the Government, or impairing his efficiency as a soldier. Increased pay would violate the first of these conditions, and a shorter term of service the second.

But make the instruction of the soldier (i.e., his daily duty) something that will exercise both his body and his mind. Instead of practicing him, day after day, in the arts of the militiaman, teach him something that will make him a better fighting machine; give more weight to his knowledge of out-post duty than to the position of his little finger in the second motion of reverse arms; and you will not only make him a more valuable soldier, but a more contented one.

Require from him the most rigid observance of every duty; but, when that duty is over, do not hamper him with needless restraints. Restraints that are unnecessary are tyrannical, and tattoo is of this class.

And when the soldier has finished his day’s duty, when he leaves the post to seek recreation in town, let him wear any respectable garb he pleases. If he conduct himself properly, it matters not what dress he wear; but if he behaves improperly, it is better that he be in civilian dress, as he cannot disgrace the uniform if he does not wear it.

But if he choose to wear his uniform, and disgrace it, either by being drunk , or by being seen in disreputable places, then let his punishment be of the severest; and not only will the soldier be taught to respect his uniform, but civilians will do the same.

These suggestions will, no doubt, be called impracticable by a certain class of officers. Magazine rifles have been condemned by this class because of the difficulty in executing with them that important movement known as “support arms.” When the leather stock was abandoned, they prophesied that its loss would prove fatal to military discipline; and, to them, my suggestions probably appear equally dangerous.

Ft. Leavenworth, Kansas, May 14th, 1889.

This post is a verbatim copy of an article by Lieutenant William D. McAnaney, of the 9th Cavalry, that was originally published in Volume X (1889) of the Journal of the Military Service Institution of the United States. The original version of the article was provided with extensive notes, which have not been reproduced here.