Recently, while looking for something else, I ran across a translation, made by the British War Office, of an article that appeared, in 1907, in the pages of a German military magazine. Called ‘The Art of Command’, the piece dealt with two subjects dear to my heart - the tradition of mission command and the applicatory method of studying tactics. I therefore decided to make a fresh translation for the readers of The Tactical Notebook.
The author of ‘The Art of Command’ came into this world in1853. Seventeen years later, Clemens Spohn found himself fighting on the battlefields of France. In the years that followed, he followed the customary path of a Prussian infantry officer of the late nineteenth century, dividing his time between the training of recruits and the exploration of the (already enormous) German-language literature on military matters.
Soon after the start of the twentieth century, Spohn began to add to that literature, reviewing books for military magazines, revising guides to military examinations, updating handbooks for the conduct of honor courts, and writing articles on the place of military institutions in German society.
Is the giving of orders an art? Many will doubt it. They feel that nothing could be easier than to command. Yet anyone who thinks that way ignores some stubborn truths. Only the man who has learned to obey is fit to give orders. An order is justified only when the situation makes it absolutely necessary. It is tolerable only when neither its manner or its form make things worse.
Every order places limits on the subordinate. He accepts those limits willingly when he sees the necessity for them. In such a case, obedience does not degrade him. Rather, it becomes the free gift of a free man. But he submits only grudgingly when the order springs merely from a fondness for being in charge or a desire to display one’s own power.
The desire to dominate leads straight toward tyranny and provokes disobedience. Rather than promoting discipline, it undermines it. We can see that in the army a thousand times over. Some superiors can make reluctant men obey them willingly. Others, by contrast, provoke defiance in otherwise obedient men.
Only the man who can obey, who has felt in his own flesh how painful an ill‑timed or needless order can be, and how hard it is, in such a moment, to choke down the urge to rebel, only he will avoid error in the giving of orders.
We soldiers must keep this in view at all times. In the army we rely on a fresh, cheerful obedience, not on a slavish, servile one. Only the first creates the enthusiasm for duty that we cannot do without. This is the only way to obtain the sort of discipline that nothing can shake and inspires men to heroic acts, even in the chaos of battle, when Valkyries sweep the field. Only that kind of obedience edifies a man and purifies his character. The other kind, servile obedience, drives the oppressed, sooner or later, into the open arms of Social Democracy, even if fear of punishment forces them to stifle their defiance during their time in uniform.
Thus, superiors who cannot command therefore threaten more than the army. In the long run, they threaten the state itself.
Yet the harm does not end there. A second grave danger lurks in the mania for ordering men about, whether it grows from the desire to rule or from worry that nothing will get done without orders. Every unnecessary command smothers independence, initiative, and the readiness to take responsibility.
And yet, as Paragraph 2 in the preface to the Infantry Training Regulations aptly states, ‘combat demands thinking officers, who have trained themselves to act independently, and self-reliant riflemen who, out of devotion to king and country, retain the will to conquer, even when their leaders have fallen’.
We cannot raise officers or soldiers of this kind by means of superfluous commands and orders that miss the mark. We can only develop them when we refrain from ordering more than we must, and when we praise every act of initiative, even when it proves ill advised. In such cases, we must point out mistakes, doing so without bitterness, severity, or scolding.
One should correct it with kindly instruction. No one likes to bear sharp censure. Everyone, however, accepts guidance and does better next time. When a man lives in fear of censure, he suppresses his own initiative. He tells himself: ‘If I keep my head down, I’ll avoid trouble. Perhaps no one will notice.’
The form of an order demands the same care. Only a definite order, as brief as possible and free of useless words, prevents misunderstanding.
Whenever a superior finds a failure to understand, he should look for a mistake he might have made. Only when honest self-examination fails to find the fault should he take the subordinate to task.
It would be a great blessing if every order in battle had to be issued in writing.
Written orders serve as evidence at any later point. More than that, they restrain the superior from hasty decisions, and the recipient more easily grasps what he sees plainly set out before him than words cried out to him in passing by an adjutant or orderly officer.
I recall an inspection, many years ago, back in my lieutenant days, which illustrates this point. At a brigade inspection, a high‑ranking officer gave his first battle order in the presence of the commanding general. What happened? The general said, almost word for word: ‘A pity, sir, that you did not put this order in writing. Were I to repeat it to you now, exactly as you gave it, you would think I was joking, and you would never admit that you issued it in that form.’
Such is the way of all flesh. The superior knows very clearly what he meant to say. What he actually said in the heat of the moment eludes his judgment. In his memory there lives only his intention, not the words he used, though in practice everything depends on the wording.
Let us leave the battlefield for a moment and return home. Each of us can tell tales about misunderstandings between himself and his bâtman. The ‘officer’s servant’ has become a stock character on the stage. But does that mean our bâtmen are truly so stupid that they blunder every time we send them on an errand? Certainly not. When we examine these misunderstandings and trace them back [to the things we said], we find, more often than not, that we were at fault.
A lieutenant may tell his newly arrived bâtman, ‘Have these gloves washed’. (I saw this myself.) How can he then marvel when the man brings them to the laundress? Or again: Who bears the blame if, after hearing ‘Bring me a glass of beer!’, the bâtman returns with Pilsner instead of Munich lager, or fetches it from Tavern B rather than Tavern A?
Similar examples crop up every day. The unlucky servant bears the brunt, because he ‘has no nose for it’, that is, because he fails to guess unstated preferences.
Misunderstandings arise just as often in the social sphere. Where do they come from? The bâtman grew up in the simplest of circumstances. All his life he spoke as he pleased, as words came to him. Now he must suddenly deliver messages in polished language, conveying requests that lie well beyond his grasp. Confusion and mix‑ups follow almost inevitably.
This brief digression should show how hard it is, even in everyday life, to phrase an order so that no false reading is possible. It underscores how much more difficult the battle order must be. At home, one gives orders calmly, at leisure, unshaken by outside pressures. On the battlefield, the excitement of the moment speaks through the commander. That excitement all too easily drives him toward unconsidered, reckless, or over‑hasty commands.
If we soberly ponder the possible, and often very tragic, consequences of such orders in real war, we will not escape the conclusion that commanding is indeed an art, an art that must be learned and practiced. It succeeds only for the man who demands much of himself, who watches himself, and who works at his own character through strict and tireless self‑discipline.
To be continued …
For All Posts in this Series
Related Reading
Sources
Clemens Spohn ‘Die Kunst des Befehlens’ (‘The Art of Command’) Jahrbücher für die Deutsche Armee und Marine (Annuals for the German Army and Navy) (October 1907) pages 337-340 (Hathi Trust)
‘The Art of Command’ (unpublished typescript prepared by the British War Office, 1907) (Military Learning Library)
Prussia (War Ministry) Felddienst Ordnung (Field Service Regulations) (Berlin: E.S. Mittler, 1900)
Bavaria (War Ministry) Exerzier Reglement für die Infanterie (Infantry Training Regulations) (Munich, 1906) (Internet Archive)
Please note that the book published in Munich promulgates the same content as the Prussian manual of the same name.
General Robert Barrow, (27th Commandant of the Marine Corps) was the guest speaker at the Mess Night for Fox Company 6/78 at The Basic School, late in August 1978. His speech was remarkable in many ways but at one point he made the issue about the responsibility of issuing good and proper orders. He stunned 250 Marine Second Lieutenant’s with the comment that “you will learn that the day to day world of the Corps is a negotiation with your Marines, you will find that everything is negotiated.” One can imagine the stunned looked of 250 feeshly minted all male Marine second lieutenant’s when they heard the comment. Hell we are Marine Officers we issue orders….sure we do. Fast forward this writer was Aide de Camp to Major General Charles Cooper, (abet only briefly) and General Barrow as CMC came to Camp LeJeune early in his tenure. He wanted to get a feel for his Corps. As CG of MCB Camp LeJeune General Cooper was the host. On the way to take General Barrow and Mrs. Barrow to their quarters the conversation came up regarding his mess night speech to TBS class 6/78. General Barrow asked this writer what he found since that speech. Looking at Sargent Jerry Lane, General Cooper’s driver I replied “General as you said it would be, every day is a negotiation with your Marines.” “Isn’t that so Sargent Lane?” Never missing a beat young Sargent Lane replied “yes sir, every day is a negotiation!” Lots of laughing including Mrs. Barrow ensued! We who are given the immense responsibility to lead Marines must carry a special burden to not support and defend the constitution but to care for and nurture those in our command. What a great post! Can’t wait for more!!