The following is the second part of an article written by a British officer who visited the German fortress of Metz in the summer of 1887. The first part of the article can be found here.
Whatever may be the opinion of civilians on the subject of the invasion of this country [Great Britain], among military men who have considered the question there can be, as to its possibility, no doubt whatsoever. At Portsmouth, Plymouth, Chatham, and elsewhere, we have, moreover, practically prepared for this eventuality by the construction of expensive and costly permanent works. Here are identically similar conditions of ground to those existing at Metz, and yet, if we were to ask to what extent these conditions are utilized to practice and to interest the garrisons in the minor operations of war, the answer would, it is to be feared, “nil.”
It is the “silver streak ” [i.e. the English Channel] which is at the bottom of this negligence; the “silver streak” is supposed to afford time for preparation of all kinds even if the most complicated and intricate character; but fortunately for German efficiency, no “silver streak ” with its vain illusions exists for them. It is this exposure to invasion without a moment ’s warning which has caused in the army decentralization to be one of the ruling principles, of the main principles of their military system.
It is not in the superiority inherent in decentralization over centralization that the reason for its adoption is to be alone found, but in the fact that, when war is declared by a hostile power against Germany, there will be no time for reference elsewhere; action on the spot must be immediate.
Take, for instance, the cavalry. If war breaks out between France and Germany, the very first step in the operations will be the despatch of cavalry to the frontier to obtain information of the enemy. A squadron leader in one of the cavalry regiments at Metz was kind enough to show us how this was provided for. “If you do not mind climbing the stairs to the top of the house, ” said this officer to us one day, “you shall see my store-room.”
Calling his quartermaster-sergeant, our friend led us up-stairs into a room filled with brand-new complete equipment for the number of horses which would com- plete his squadron on mobilization. Each set of equipment was labelled with the name of the horse, and in adjoining rooms were clothing and equipment for the men.
“In this regiment,” continued the Rittmeister [i.e. the captain commanding the squadron] “one squadron is told off yearly to take the field at once on war breaking out. It is the turn of my squadron this year. I know the horses and men I shall leave behind me, and what horses and men are to replace them. Directly I receive the order to go, I shall come here as I do now, issue the equipment without reference to anyone, and in six hours I shall be over the frontier with my squadron; the rest of the regiment will follow in three days.”
And all other arms and branches of service are in the same state of preparedness. when our first expedition went to Egypt, a general in the fortress told us that they could have put in the field from the fortress itself the same force thoroughly complete in every respect.
Decentralization is, however, greatly facilitated in the German Army, owing to the troops so seldom changing quarters. Practically, regiments are always in the same stations. As a very large proportion of men are in the ranks for only two years, they are not much affected by the nature of the station, whether it be pleasant or the re- verse; but it must come hardly on the officers who can shift from a bad station to a better one only on promotion or by transfer. We have heard it stated by a German general that he found the troops in dull quarters, as well, if not better, trained than those in pleasanter places; and he added that he supposed the reason was that they had nothing else to do. A field officer remarked, however, that this permanency of quarters told on the character of officers, as good men always endeavored to avoid being posted to regiments in disagreeable places.
Decentralization must, however, be necessarily accompanied by trust and confidence in subordinates, in administrative details, as well as in the field; but as all human beings are fallible, it is well occasionally to ascertain that this trust and confidence have not been misplaced, and this check the Germans provide by frequent and thorough inspection of work given to be executed. Laying down a few general principles for guidance, they bear in mind the saying that there are many roads that lead to Rome; and so long as Rome is reached at the right moment the authorities do not care how their subordinates have arrived there; but woe betide the voyager who is found absent from the goal at the appointed time.
They prefer the end to the means, the substance to the shadow. If one leader trains his men or horses in one fashion, and another in another fashion; if in one stable the squadron commander uses rye straw, and in another a commander prefers to use oat or wheat straw for litter, it is nothing to the commander of the regiment, who simply requires of these officers that at the time appointed by regulation for his inspecting the squadrons, these shall be fit and complete. “De minimis non curat ” the higher German authority. [The Latin expression means “does not care about trifles.”]
On one occasion we were invited to wit- ness a Cavalry Brigade swim the Moselle. One of the horses was carried away by the current, drowned, and eventually deposited on a mud-bank in the river. As we saw the unfortunate animal come to its end, visions of courts of inquiry, proceedings returned for revision, and the references ad infinitum of the administrative world in which the English officer lives and moves and has his being, rose in our mind, and we, therefore, inquired of the Brigadier the course which would be pursued. The rely was to the effect that no one would take any notice of the occurrence except the squadron commander, who would send [someone] down the river and [have him] recover the equipment.
At the next inspection of the squadron this officer would have one horse short of the proper complement, and he would account for the deficiency by reporting “One horse drowned at Swimming Exercise. ” If, however, say, nineteen horses had met this fate, probably an inquiry would come from Berlin. “Were proper precautions taken? ” As a contrast to this system of trust, which makes those under it self-reliant and devoid of fear of responsibility, we will instance a case in our own service which came to our knowledge in South Africa during the Zulu War. At an out-station six miles from Port Durnford, a medical officer injured whilst out shooting game a soldier ’s rifle he had borrowed for the purpose. A board of officers was convened, evidence taken, the circumstances fully elicited, and the report with the proceedings sent in to the commanding officer at Port Durnford, a lieutenant-colonel in command of between two and three thousand men, to whom the whole matter seemed fully explained. In the ordinary course of duty, the papers were sent on by him to the general in command of the lines of communication at Pietermaritzburg, some two hundred miles distant. This general and his staff passed their days and nights among papers, and notwithstanding the really important work always before them, a trivial matter like this was not be- neath the consideration and scrutiny of the general, who, dissatisfied with the evidence, re-transmitted the papers to Port Durnford, the Board was reassembled, fresh evidence adduced, and the subject, not a bit clearer than originally presented to him, again laid before him, this time to his satisfaction.
A system such as this is like keeping grown men in the leading-strings of baby- hood, and diverts the attention of those in authority from really important business to mere petty-fogging details. In the German Army this decentralization is carried on to the military preparation on the drill-ground, and in the field, and this, together with the thoroughly bona fide character of the inspections excites in all alike, non-commissioned officers, squad commanders, company leaders, and battalion commanders, a spirit of the keenest emulation, and leads them to put into their work an intensity which must be witnessed in order to be realized. And this intensity is apparent to anyone who will take the trouble to pass a day strolling about the streets, and looking into the barrack-yards of Metz. From daybreak to dusk the troops are at work in large masses or small bodies, according to the time of year.
“Don’t you fellows ever play cricket or anything of that kind?” one of our party once asked a German officer. “Play, ” was the response; “we have no time for that. I was out with my squadron before five this morning; it is now three, and I have just done my work. I’m going to bed.”
On every soldier is impressed also the influence which individual conduct exer- cises in warfare, and consequently, being convinced of the importance of his own action in the field, he strives to become efficient, and failing any feeling of this kind, there is at hand a discipline of the severest kind.
Striking a soldier is strictly forbidden, but other methods, hardly less pleasant, of terrifying recruits into obedience are occasionally resorted to. As in very many cases the service lasts only two years, this period of hard work for the men is endurable. For the officers the labor is excessive, as its repetition year by year must be almost maddening in its monotony. But only in this way can an army suited in numbers to the requirements of modern warfare be obtained. Nothing used to astonish the adjutants of English regiments in our visits more than the rigorous precision with which battalions, two thirds of which were men of some eight months service, executed their movements. Throughout the army also the series of drills (squad, company, battalion, etc.) follow each other like clockwork at the same periods of the year; and with this regularity nothing is allowed to interfere.
On one occasion our party included several cavalry officers, who were naturally anxious to see a German cavalry regiment at drill. The general commanding the cavalry division had provided horses for us, and was himself on the ground, not, as he in- formed us, to interfere with the drill, but simply as a spectator. He expressed his regret that it was the season for squadron drill only, but he added, “As you would like to see something more than that, I have asked the colonels to be good enough to collect their squadrons, and to give a little extra time to regimental drill; but you must not judge the regiments by what they do this morning, for they are not ready for that kind of drill.
One of the most remarkable points in the German system, which encourages individuality, is the way in which this individuality is at every turn checked, and the individual is made to feel that whatever be his rank, he is after all but a part of a machine worked by others. When on guard or on sentry, he may be seen actually saying his prayers by order. At the gate of the barracks on the esplanade at Metz, about nine o’clock, the guard, composed of a non-commissioned officer and some four or five men, falls in in front of the guard room, and presently, on a word of command being given, the helmets are taken off, and for a space of some seconds the men hide their faces in them after the manner of Punch’s gentleman, who roused the curiosity of the child to learn why he “smelt his hat” in church. Another command follows, the helmets are replaced, arms shouldered, the guard breaks off, and the sentry resumes his tramp.
The Germans seem to consider that by the maintenance of strictest discipline the subordinates can be entrusted with freedom of action in their own province, and permit- ting this, they require them to show the utmost deference to their superiors, whether on duty or in social life; and, moreover, further, in order to consolidate the military machine, to display invariably courtesy to each other. Hence the incessant giving and receiving that formal salute, which strikes so forcibly the English officer, too much accustomed to regard mere cap-touching as a sufficiently onerous mark of respect. Even non-commissioned officers are saluted by the rank-and-file.
Meantime, under the trees at the other end of the Esplanade all the officers of the garrison have been collecting by corps and regiments. The saluting is incessant, no officer passing another without paying and receiving the compliment. The Governor now proceeds to his position in front of the center of the groups of officers, and acts as a nucleus on which grows the circumference of a circle of officers sent from each regiment. Suddenly the whole parade, including the Governor, comes to a salute, and the Governor, turning to the officer on his left, gives him the watchword; this officer passes it on to his neighbor, from whom it goes on to the left, and so round the circle, until it comes back to the Governor.
The proceeding reminds one very much of the game of “words” practiced at children’s parties. On one occasion some mistake appeared to have been made in the transmission, and the watchword was sent a second time on its travels, returning now apparently uninjured.
And now arms resume their natural position, the band plays, and the opportunity is seized for official interviews and for the presentation of fresh arrivals in the garrison.
The third part of this article can be found at the other end of this link: The German Army of 1887 (III)
Source: Colonel Lonsdale Hale, “Glimpses of German Military Life”, Colburn’s United Service Magazine , No. 715, (June 1888)
Note: This is a verbatim reprint of Colonel Hale’s article. The spelling has been Americanized and longer paragraphs have been divided into two or three smaller ones. Apart from these changes, and the editorial remarks in brackets, the text is a faithful copy of the original.