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The Armed Forces Officer

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Title: The Armed Forces Officer

Author: United States. Department of Defense


        
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Language: English

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THE ARMED FORCES OFFICER







[Illustration]

Department of Defense

United States
Government Printing Office
Washington: 1950




OFFICE OF THE SECRETARY OF DEFENSE

WASHINGTON


                                                       _November 1950_

_This manual on leadership has been prepared for use by the Department
of Army, the Department of Navy, and the Department of Air Force, and
is published for the information and guidance of all concerned._

                            [Illustration: (Signature) G. C. Marshall]




                                                DEPARTMENT OF THE ARMY
                                  WASHINGTON 25, D. C., _20 June 1956_

Department of the Army Pamphlet 600-2, The Armed Forces Officer, is
issued for the use of all concerned.

By Order of _Wilber M. Brucker_, Secretary of the Army:

                                                    MAXWELL D. TAYLOR,
                                         _General, United States Army,
                                                      Chief of Staff._

Official:

    JOHN A. KLEIN,
    _Major General, United States Army,
    The Adjutant General._




THE
ARMED FORCES
OFFICER




CONTENTS


    CHAPTER                                                       PAGE

         I. THE MEANING OF YOUR COMMISSION                           1

        II. FORMING MILITARY IDEALS                                 14

       III. RESPONSIBILITY AND PRIVILEGE                            25

        IV. PLANNING YOUR CAREER                                    32

         V. RANK AND PRECEDENCE                                     41

        VI. CUSTOMS AND COURTESIES                                  50

       VII. KEEPING YOUR HOUSE IN ORDER                             63

      VIII. GETTING ALONG WITH PEOPLE                               69

        IX. LEADERS AND LEADERSHIP                                  79

         X. MAINSPRINGS OF LEADERSHIP                               93

        XI. HUMAN NATURE                                            99

       XII. GROUP NATURE                                           110

      XIII. ENVIRONMENT                                            121

       XIV. THE MISSION                                            131

        XV. DISCIPLINE                                             139

       XVI. MORALE                                                 147

      XVII. ESPRIT                                                 158

     XVIII. KNOWING YOUR JOB                                       166

       XIX. KNOWLEDGE OF YOUR MEN                                  176

        XX. WRITING AND SPEAKING                                   182

       XXI. THE ART OF INSTRUCTION                                 196

      XXII. YOUR RELATIONSHIPS WITH YOUR MEN                       206

     XXIII. YOUR MEN'S MORAL AND PHYSICAL WELFARE                  213

      XXIV. KEEPING YOUR MEN INFORMED                              222

       XXV. COUNSELING YOUR MEN                                    228

      XXVI. USING REWARD AND PUNISHMENT                            240

     XXVII. FITTING MEN TO JOBS                                    246

    XXVIII. AMERICANS IN COMBAT                                    255

   APPENDIX

         I. RECOMMENDED READING                                    264




CHAPTER ONE

THE MEANING OF YOUR COMMISSION


Upon being commissioned in the Armed Services of the United States, a
man incurs a lasting obligation to cherish and protect his country and
to develop within himself that capacity and reserve strength which
will enable him to serve its arms and the welfare of his fellow
Americans with increasing wisdom, diligence, and patriotic conviction.

This is the meaning of his commission. It is not modified by any
reason of assignment while in the service, nor is the obligation
lessened on the day an officer puts the uniform aside and returns to
civil life. Having been specially chosen by the United States to
sustain the dignity and integrity of its sovereign power, an officer
is expected so to maintain himself, and so to exert his influence for
so long as he may live, that he will be recognized as a worthy symbol
of all that is best in the national character.

In this sense the trust imposed in the highest military commander in
the land is not more than what is encharged the newest ensign or
second lieutenant. Nor is it less. It is the fact of commission which
gives special distinction to the man and in turn requires that the
measure of his devotion to the service of his country be distinctive,
as compared with the charge laid upon the average citizen.

In the beginning, a man takes an oath to uphold his country's
Constitution against all enemies foreign and domestic, to bear true
faith and allegiance, and to discharge well and faithfully the duties
of office. He does this without any mental reservation.

Thereafter he is given a paper which says that because the President
as a representative of the people of this country reposes "special
trust and confidence" in his "patriotism, valor, fidelity, and
abilities," he is forthwith commissioned.

By these tokens, the Nation also becomes a party to the contract, and
will faithfully keep its bond with the man. While he continues to
serve honorably, it will sustain him and will clothe him with its
dignity. That it has vouched for him gives him a felicitous status in
our society. The device he wears, his insignia, and even his garments
identify him directly with the power of the United States. The living
standards of himself and of his family are underwritten by Federal
statute. Should he become ill, the Nation will care for him. Should he
be disabled, it will stand as his guardian through life. Should he
seek to advance himself through higher studies, it will open the way.

Other than the officer corps, there is no group within our society
toward which the obligation of the Nation is more fully expressed.
Even so, other Americans regard this fact with pride, rather than with
envy. They accept the principle that some unusual advantage should
attend exceptional and unremitting responsibility. Whatever path an
American officer may walk, he enjoys prestige. Though little is known
of his intrinsic merit, he will be given the respect of his fellow
citizens, unless he proves himself utterly undeserving.

This national esteem for the corps is one of the priceless assets of
American security. The services themselves so recognize it. That they
place such strong emphasis upon the importance of personal honor among
officers is because they know that the future of our arms and the
well-being of our people depend upon a constant renewing and
strengthening of public faith in the virtue of the corps. Were this to
languish, the Nation would be loath to commit its sons to any military
endeavor, no matter how grave the emergency.

The works of goodwill by which those who lead the national military
forces endeavor to win the unreserved trust of the American people is
one of the chief preservatives of the American system of freedoms. The
character of the corps is in a most direct sense a final safeguard of
the character of the Nation.

To these thoughts any officer who is morally deserving of his
commission would freely subscribe. He will look beyond the letter of
his obligation and will accept in his own heart the total implications
of his new responsibility.

So doing, he still might see fit to ask: "But to what do I turn my
thoughts? How do I hold myself so that while following the line of
duty, I will also exemplify those ideals which may inspire other men
to make their best effort?"

It is suggested that there is a one-word key to the answer among the
four lofty qualities which are cited on every man's commission.

That word is _Fidelity_.

As for patriotism, either a man loves his country or else he would not
seek commission at its hands, unless he be completely the rascal,
pretending to serve in order to destroy.

Valor, on the other hand, can not be fully vouchsafed, since it is not
given to any man to know the nature and depth of his personal courage.

Abilities vary from man to man, and are partly what heredity and
environment have made them. If nature had not imposed a ceiling, mere
striving would make every man a genius.

But Fidelity is the derivative of personal decision. It is the jewel
within reach of every man who has the will to possess it.

Given an officer corps composed throughout of men who would make the
eternal try toward bettering their professional capacities and
furthering the working efficiency and harmony within all forces, the
United States would become thrice-armed though not producing one new
weapon in its arsenals.

Great faith, rightness of mind, influence over other men, and finally,
personal success and satisfaction come of service to the ideals of the
profession. Were these strengths reflected throughout the officer
body, it could well happen that because of the shining example, the
American people would become more deeply conscious of the need to keep
their own fibers strong than has been their disposition throughout
history.

Accepting these truths as valid, a man still must know where he stands
before making a true reckoning of his line of advance. This entails
some consideration of himself (_a_) as to the personal standard which
is required of him because of his position in relation to all others
(_b_) as to the reasons in common sense which make this requirement,
and (_c_) as to the principles and philosophy which will enable him to
play his part well.

The military officer is considered a gentleman, not because Congress
wills it, nor because it has been the custom of people in all times to
afford him that courtesy, but specifically because nothing less than a
gentleman is truly suited for his particular set of responsibilities.

This is not simply a bit of self-adulation; it is distinctly the
American tradition in the matter. The Nation has never attempted to
draw its officers from a particular class. During World War II,
thousands of men were commissioned in our forces who had enjoyed
little opportunity in their earlier environments. They were sound men
by nature. They had courage. They could set a good example. They could
rally other men around them. In the eyes of the services, these things
count more than any man's blood lines. We say with Voltaire, "Whoever
serves his country well has no need of ancestors."

On the other hand, from the time of the Colonies, this country has
despised press gangs, floggings, martinetism, and all of the other Old
World military practices which demeaned the rank and file. Its
military system was founded on the dignity of man, just as was its
Constitution. The system has sought ever since to advance itself by
appealing to the higher nature of the individual. That is why its
officers need to be gentlemen. To call forth great loyalty in other
people and to harness it to any noble undertaking, one must first be
sensible of their finer instincts and feelings. Certainly these things
at least are among the gentle qualities which are desired in every
military officer of the United States:

    1. Strong belief in human rights.

    2. Respect for the dignity of every other person.

    3. The Golden Rule attitude toward one's daily associates.

    4. An abiding interest in all aspects of human welfare.

    5. A willingness to deal with every man as considerately as if he
    were a blood relative.

These qualities are the epitome of strength, not of softness. They
mark the man who is capable of pursuing a great purpose consistently
in spite of temptations. He who possesses them will all the more
surely be regarded as a "man among men." Take any crowd of new
recruits! The greater number of them during their first few days in
service will use more profanity and obscenity, talk more about women
and boast more about drinking than they have ever done in their lives,
because of the mistaken idea that this is the quick way to get a
reputation for being hard-boiled. But at the same time, the one or two
men among them who stay decent, talk moderately and walk the line of
duty will uniquely receive the infinite respect of the others. It
never fails to happen!

There is the other matter about how a man should feel toward his own
profession. Simply to accept the fact that the bearing of arms is a
highly honorable calling because the book says so should not suffice
one's own interest in the matter, when a little personal reflection
will reveal wherein the honor resides.

To every officer who has thought earnestly about the business, it is
at once apparent that civilization, as men have known it since the
time of the Greek City States, has rested as a pyramid upon a base of
organized military power. Moreover, the general possibility of world
cultural progress in the foreseeable future has no other conceivable
foundation. For any military man to deny, on any ground whatever, the
role which his profession has played in the establishment of
everything which is well-ordered in our society, shows only a faulty
understanding of history. It made possible the birth of the American
system of freedoms. Later, it gave the nation a new birth and
vouchsafed a more perfect union.

Likewise, we need to see the case in its present terms. One may abhor
war fully, despise militarism absolutely, deplore all of the impulses
in human nature which make armed force necessary, and still agree that
for the world as we know it, the main hope is that "peace-loving
nations can be made obviously capable of defeating nations which are
willing to wage aggressive war." Those words, by the way, were not
said by a warrior, but by the eminent pacifist, Bertrand Russell. It
does not make the military man any less the humanitarian that he
accepts this reality, that he faces toward the chance forthrightly,
and that he believes that if all military power were stricken
tomorrow, men would revert to a state of anarchy and there would ensue
the total defeat of the forces which are trying to establish peace and
brotherly love in our lives.

The complete identity of American military forces with the character
of the people comes of this indivisibility of interest. To think of
the military as a guardian class apart, like Lynkeus "born for vision,
ordained for watching," rather than as a strong right arm, corporately
joined to the body and sharing its every function, is historically
false and politically inaccurate. It is not unusual, however, for
those whose task it is to interpret the trend of opinion to take the
line that "the military" are thinking one way and "the people" quite
another on some particular issue, as if to imply that the two are
quite separate and of different nature. This is usually false in
detail, and always false in general. It not only discounts the objects
of their unity but overlooks the truth of its origins.

Maybe they should be invited to go to the root of the word. The true
meaning of "populus," from which we get the word "people," was in the
time of ancient Rome the "armed body." The pure-blooded Roman in the
days of the Republic could not conceive of a citizen who was not a
warrior. It was the arms which a Roman's possession of land enabled
him to get that qualified him to participate in the affairs of state.
He had no political rights until he had fought. _He was not of the
people; they were of him!_ Nor is this concept alien to the ideals on
which the Founding Fathers built the American system, since they
stated it as the right and duty of every able-bodied citizen to bear
arms.

These propositions should mean much to every American who has chosen
the military profession. A main point is that on becoming an officer a
man does not renounce any part of his fundamental character as an
American citizen. He has simply signed on for the post graduate course
where one learns how to exercise authority in accordance with the
spirit of liberty. The nature of his trusteeship has been subtly
expressed by an Admiral in our service: "The American philosophy
places the individual above the state. It distrusts personal power and
coercion. It denies the existence of indispensable men. It asserts the
supremacy of principle."

An understanding of American principles of life and growth, and
personal zeal in upholding them, is the bedrock of sound leading in
our services. Moral and emotional stability are expected of an
American officer; he can usually satisfy his superiors if he attains
to this equilibrium. But he is not likely to satisfy himself unless he
can also achieve that maturity of character which expresses itself in
the ability to make decisions in detachment of spirit from that which
is pleasant or unpleasant to him personally, in the desire to hold
onto things not by grasping them but by understanding them and
remembering them, and in learning to covet only that which may be
rightfully possessed.

An occasional man has become wealthy while in the services by making
wise investments, through writings, by skill at invention, or through
some other means. But he is the exception. The majority have no such
prospect. Indeed, if love of money were the mainspring of all American
action, the officer corps long since would have disintegrated. But it
is well said that the only truly happy people on earth are those who
are indifferent to money because they have some positive purpose which
forecloses it. Than the service, there is no other environment which
is more conducive to the leading of the full life by the individual
who is ready to accept the word of the philosopher that the only
security on earth is the willingness to accept insecurity as an
inevitable part of living. Once an officer has made this passage into
maturity, and is at peace with himself because the service means more
to him than all else, he will find kinship with the great body of his
brothers-in-arms. The highest possible consequence can develop from
the feelings of men mutually inspired by some great endeavor and
moving forward together according to the principle that only those who
are willing to serve are fit to lead. Completely immersed in action,
they have no time for smallness in speech, thought or deed. It is for
these reasons that those who in times past have excelled in the
leadership of American forces have invariably been great Americans
first and superior officers second. The rule applies at all levels.
The lieutenant who is not moved at the thought that he is serving his
country is unlikely to do an intelligent job of directing other men.
He will come apart at the seams whenever the going grows tough. Until
men accept this thought freely, and apply it to their personal action,
it is not possible for them to go forward together strongly. In the
words of Lionel Curtis: "The only force that unites men is conscience,
a varying capacity in most of them to put the interests of other
people before their own."

The services are accustomed to being hammered. Like other human
institutions, they are imperfect. Therefore the criticisms are not
always unjust. Further, there is no more reason why the services
should be immune to attack than any other organic part of our society
and government.

The service officer is charged only to take a lively interest in all
such discussions. He has no more right to condemn the service unfairly
than has any other American. On the other hand he is not expected to
be an intellectual eunuch, oblivious to all of the faults in the
institution to which he gives his loyalty. To the contrary, the nature
of that loyalty requires that he will use his force toward the
righting of those things which reason convinces him are going wrong,
though making certain that his action will not do more damage than
repair.

His ultimate commanding loyalty at all times is to his country, and
not to his service or his superior. He owes it to his country to speak
the truth as he sees it. This implies a steadying judgment as to when
it should be spoken, and to whom it should be addressed. A truth need
not only be well-rounded, but the utterance of it should be cognizant
of the stresses and objectives of the hour. Truth becomes falsehood
unless it has the strength of perspective. The presentation of facts
is self-justifying only when the facts are developed in their true
proportion.

Where there is public criticism of the services, in matters both large
and small, the service officer has the right and the duty of
intervention only toward the end of making possible that all criticism
will be well-informed. That right can not be properly exercised when
there is nothing behind it but a defense of professional pride. The
duty can be well performed when the officer knows not only his
subject--the mechanism itself--but the history and philosophy of the
armed services in their relation to the development of the American
system. Criticism from the outside is essential to service well-being,
for as Confucius said, oftentimes men in the game are blind to what
the lookers on see clearly.

The value of any officer's opinion of any military question can never
be any greater than the extent and accuracy of his information. His
ability to dispose public thought favorably toward the service will
depend upon the wisdom of his words rather than upon his military rank
and other credentials. A false idea will come upon a bad fate even
though it has the backing of the highest authority.

Only men of informed mind and unprejudiced expression can strengthen
the claim of the services on the affections of the American people.

This is, of itself, a major objective for the officer corps, since our
public has little studious interest in military affairs, tends ever to
discount the vitality of the military role in the progress and
prosperity of the nation and regards the security problem as one of
the less pleasant and abnormal burdens on an otherwise orderly
existence.

It is an explicable contradiction of the American birthright that to
some of our people the military establishment is at best a necessary
evil, and military service is an extraordinary hardship rather than an
inherent obligation. Yet these illusions are rooted deep in the
American tradition, though it is a fact to be noted not without hope
that we are growing wiser as we move along. In the years which
followed the American Revolution, the new union of States tried to
eliminate military forces altogether. There was vast confusion of
thought as to what freedom required for its own survival. Thomas
Jefferson, one of the great architects of democracy, and still
renowned for his "isolationist" sentiments, wrote the warning: "We
must train and classify the whole of our male citizens, and make
military instruction a regular part of collegiate education. We can
never be safe until this is done."

None the less, the hour came when the standing Army was reduced to 80
men. None the less, the quaint notion has survived that an enlightened
interest in military affairs is somehow undemocratic. And none the
less, recurring war has invariably found the United States
inadequately prepared for the defense of its own territory.

Because there has been a holdover of these mistaken sentiments right
down to the present, there persists in many military officers a
defensive attitude toward their own profession which has no practical
relation to the strength of the ground on which they are enabled to
stand. Toward any unfair and flippant criticism of the "military mind"
they react with resentment, instead of with buoyant proof that their
own minds are more plastic and more receptive to national ideals than
those of any other profession. Where they should approach all problems
of the national security with the zeal of the missionary, seeking and
giving light, they treat this subject as if it were a private game
preserve.

It suffices to say of this minority that they are a barnacle on the
hull of an otherwise staunch vessel. From such limited concepts of
personal responsibility, there can not fail to develop a foreshortened
view of the dignity of the task at hand. The note of apology is
injected at the wrong time; the tone of belligerency is used when it
serves no purpose. When someone arises within the halls of government
to say that the military establishment is "uneconomic" because it cuts
no bricks, bales no hay and produces nothing which can be vended in
the market places, it is not unusual to hear some military men concur
in this strange notion. That acquiescence is wholly unbecoming.

The physician is not slurred as belonging to a nonproductive
profession because he contributes only to the care and healing of the
body, and through these things to the general well-being of society.
Respect for formal education, organized religion and all of the
enterprises built up around the dissemination of ideas is not the less
because the resultant benefit to society is not always tangible and
saleable. Hence to say that that without which society could not
endure in its present form is "uneconomic" is to make the word itself
altogether meaningless.

In that inner power of courage and conviction which stems from the
spiritual integrity of the individual, lies the strength of democracy.
As to their ability to produce toward these ends, the military
services can stand on the record. When shortly after World War II, a
census was taken among the returned men, 60 percent said that they had
been _morally strengthened_ by their military service in the American
uniform. About 30 percent had no opinion or felt that military life
had not changed them one way or the other. An insignificant minority
considered themselves damaged. This is an amazing testimony in light
of the fact that only a small fraction of American youth is schooled
to believe that any spiritual good can come of military service. As to
what it signifies, those who take a wholly materialistic view of the
objects of the Republic are entitled to call the military
establishment "uneconomic." The services will continue to hold with
the idea that strong nationhood comes not of the making of gadgets but
of the building of character.

Men beget goodwill in other men by giving it. They develop courage in
their following mainly as a reflection of the courage which they show
in their own action. These two qualities of mind and heart are of the
essence of sound officership. One is of little avail without the
other, and either helps to sustain the other. As to which is the
stronger force in its impact upon the masses of men, no truth is more
certain than the words once written by William James: "Evident though
the shortcomings of a man may be, if he is ready to give up his life
for a cause, we forgive him everything. However inferior he may be to
ourselves in other respects, if we cling to life while he throws it
away like a flower, we bow to his superiority."

Theodore Roosevelt once said that if he had a son who refrained from
any worthwhile action because of the fear of hurt to himself, he would
disown him. Soon after his return to civilian life, Gen. Dwight D.
Eisenhower spoke of the worthwhileness of "living dangerously." An
officer of the United States armed forces can not go far wrong if he
holds with these ideas. It is not the suitable profession for those
who believe only in digging-in and nursing a soft snap until death
comes at a ripe old age. Who risks nothing gains nothing.

Nor should there be any room in it for professional smugness, small
jealousies, and undue concern about privilege.

The regular recognizes as his peer and comrade the officer from any of
the civilian components. That he is a professional does not give him
an especial eminence, but simply a greater measure of responsibility
for the success of the total establishment. Moreover, he can not
afford to be patronizing, without risking self-embarrassment, such is
the vast experience which many reservists have had on the active field
of war.

Toward services other than his own, any officer is expected to have
both a comradely feeling and an imaginative interest. Any Army officer
is a better man for having studied the works of Admiral Mahan and
familiarized himself with the modern Navy from first-hand experience.
Those who lead sea-going forces can enlarge their own capacities by
knowing more, rather than less, about the nature of the air and ground
establishments. The submariner can always learn something useful to
his own work by mingling with airmen; the airman becomes a better
officer as he grows in qualified knowledge of ground and sea fighting.

But the fact remains that the services are not alike, that no wit of
man can make them alike, and that the retention by each of its
separate character, customs and confidence is essential to the
conserving of our national military power. Unification has not altered
this basic proposition. The first requirement of a unified
establishment is moral soundness in each of the integral parts,
without which there can be no soundness at all. And on the question of
fundamental loyalty, the officer who loves every other service just as
much as his own will have just as much active virtue as the man who
loves other women as much as his own wife.




CHAPTER TWO

FORMING MILITARY IDEALS


Any stranger making a survey of what Americans are and how they get
that way would probably see it as a paradox that within the armed
establishment the inculcation of ideals is considered the most vital
of all teaching, while in our gentler and less rigid institutions,
there is steadily less emphasis on this subject.

He would be entitled to the explanation that it is not so done because
this has always been the way of Armies, Navies, and other fighting
forces, or because it is universal in the military establishments of
the twentieth century, but because nothing else would better suffice
the American military system under present conditions.

There are two main reasons why.

The first is that we are an altogether unregimented people, with a
strong belief in the virtues of rugged individualism and in the right
of the average man to go along about as he pleases, so long as he does
not do actual injury to society. Voluntary group cooperation rather
than absolute group loyalty, developing from a strong spiritual bond,
is the basic technic of Americans in their average rounds. It is
enough to satisfy the social, political and economic needs of a
democracy, but in its military parts, it would be fatally weak. There
would be no possibility of achieving an all-compelling unity under
conditions of utmost pressure if no man felt any higher call to action
than what was put upon him by purely material considerations.

Military ideals are therefore, as related to this purpose, mainly an
instrument of national survival. But not altogether so, since in the
measure that they influence the personal life and conduct of millions
of men who move in and out of the services, they have a regenerative
effect upon the spiritual fiber of the Nation as a whole.

There is the second and equally important reason that, whereas wars
have sometimes been fought for ideal causes, as witness the American
Revolution and Civil War, war itself is never ideal, and the character
of our people is such as to insist that from our side, its brutalities
be minimized. The barbarian who kills for killing's sake and who
scorns the laws of war at any point is repugnant to the instincts of
our people, under whatever flag he fights. If we did not have some men
of this type among us, our penitentiaries would not be filled. The
ravages which they might commit when all of the barriers are down on
the battlefield can be prevented only when forces as a whole believe
that armed power, while not ideal in itself, must be made to serve
ideal ends.

To speak of ethics in the same breath with war may seem like sheer
cant and hypocrisy. But in the possibility that those who best
understand the use and nature of armed power may excel all others in
stimulating that higher morality which may some day restrain war lies
a main chance for the future. The Armed Services of the United States
do not simply do lip service to such institutions as United Nations.
They encourage their people to take a deep personal interest in every
legitimate activity aimed to bulwark world peace. But while doing
this, they keep their powder dry.

Military ideals are not different than the ideals which make any man
sound in himself, and in his relation to others. They are called
military ideals only because the proving ground is a little more
rugged in the service than elsewhere. But they are all founded in hard
military experience; they did not find expression because some Admiral
got it in his head one day to set an unattainable goal for his men, or
because some General wished to turn a pious face toward the public,
professing that his men were aspiring to greater virtue than anything
the public knew.

The military way is a long, hard road, and it makes extraordinary
requirements of every individual. In war, particularly, it puts
stresses upon men such as they have not known elsewhere, and the
temptation to "get out from under" would be irresistible if their
spirits had not been tempered to the ordeal. If nothing but fear of
punishments were depended upon to hold men to the line during extreme
trial, the result would be wholesale mutiny and a situation altogether
beyond the control of leadership. So it must be true that _it is out
of the impact of ideals mainly that men develop the strength to face
situations from which it would be normal to run away_.

Also, during the normal routine of peace, members of the Armed
Services are expected to respond to situations that are more
extensive, more complex, and take longer to reach fulfillment than the
situations to which the majority of men instinctively respond. Even
the length of the enlistment period looks like a slow march up a
60-mile grade. Promotion is slow, duty frequently monotonous. It is
all too easy for the individual to worry about his own insignificance
and to feel that he has become lost in the crowd. Under these
conditions a man may go altogether bad, or simply get lazy and rock
with the grain. But nothing except a strong belief in the ideals he is
serving will make him respond to the larger situation and give it his
best effort. Ideals have the intensely practical end of strengthening
men for the better discharge of duties which devolve upon them in
their day-to-day affairs.

What is the main test of human character? Probably it is this: that a
man will know how to be patient in the midst of hard circumstance, and
can continue to be personally effective while living through whatever
discouragements beset him and his companions. Moreover, that is what
every truly civilized man would want in himself during the calmer
moments when he compares critically what he is inside with what he
would like to be. That is specifically the reason why the promulgation
of military ideals is initially a problem in the first person,
singular. The Armed Services have in one sense a narrow motive in
turning the thoughts of younger leaders toward a belief in ideals.
They know that this is a lubricant in the machinery of organization
and the best way to sweeten the lives of men working together in a
group toward some worthwhile purpose. But there is also a higher
object. All experience has taught that it is likewise the best way to
give the individual man a solid foundation for living successfully
amid the facts of existence, irrespective of his situation. The
military system of the United States is not committed to grinding out
warriors _per se_, but to the training of men in such manner that they
will be able to play a better part anywhere, and will find greater
satisfactions in what they do. All the time, when the service seeks to
emphasize to its ranks what is the "right thing to do," it is speaking
of that course of conduct which in the long run is most necessary and
useful to the individual.

As to what one man should seek in himself, in order to be four-square
with his own life and all others who are related to his personal
situation, it is simple enough to formulate it, and to describe what
constitutes maturity of character. In fact, that can be done without
mentioning the words "patriotism" and "courage", which traditionally
and rightly are viewed as the very highest of the military virtues.

No man is truly fit for officership unless in the inner recess of his
being he can go along with the toast known to every American
schoolboy: "My country, in her intercourse with other nations may she
always be in the right! But right or wrong, my country!" And he will
never do a really good job of supporting her standards if, when the
clutch comes, he is lacking in intestinal fortitude.

But there is this to be said about the nature of courage and
patriotism, in the same breath that we agree they are essential in an
officer of the fighting establishment--neither of these qualities of
itself carries sufficient conviction, except as it is the product of
those homelier attributes which give dignity to all action, in things
both large and small, during the course of any average work day.

When Dr. Johnson remarked that patriotism is the last refuge of a
scoundrel he was not belittling the value of love of country as a
force in the lives of men, but to the contrary, was pointing out that
a profession of patriotism, unaccompanied by good works, was the mark
of a man not to be trusted. In no other institution in the land will
flag-waving fall as flat as in the Armed Services when the ranks know
that it is just an act, with no sincere commitment to service backing
it up. But the uniformed forces will still respond to the real
article with the same emotion that they felt at Bunker Hill and Manila
Bay.

There is a Civil War story from one of the campaigns against Stonewall
Jackson in the Valley. A Confederate who had had his leg shot away
turned on his pallet to regard a Union private who had just lost an
arm, and said to him, "For what reason did you invade us and make all
this trouble?" The boy replied simply: "For the old flag." That may
sound like sentiment from a distant past. But turn to the story of
Major Devereux and the Marine defense of Wake Island. He wrote that
the "music" had always gone sour, and had invariably broken down when
he tried to play "The Colors." But on the morning of Pearl Harbor,
when the flag was raised, the garrison already knew that the war was
on. And for some reason which no man could account for, the bugler
rose to the occasion, and for the first time, every note came straight
and true. Devereux said that every throat tightened and every head
went higher. Yet Devereux was a remarkably unmelodramatic fighting
man.

But to get back to those simpler virtues which provide a firm
foundation for patriotism and may become the fount of courage, at
least these few things would have to be put among the fundamentals:

    1. A man has honor if he holds himself to a course of conduct,
    because of a conviction that it is in the general interest, even
    though he is well aware that it may lead to inconvenience,
    personal loss, humiliation or grave physical risk.

    2. He has veracity if, having studied a question to the limit of
    his ability, he says and believes what he thinks to be true, even
    though it would be the path of least resistance to deceive others
    and himself.

    3. He has justice if he acknowledges the interests of all
    concerned in any particular transaction rather than serving his
    own apparent interest.

    4. He has graciousness if he acts and speaks forthrightly, agrees
    warmly, disagrees fairly and respectfully, participates
    enthusiastically, refrains from harboring grudges, takes his
    reverses in stride, and does not complain or ask for help in the
    face of trifling calamities.

    5. He has integrity if his interest in the good of the service is
    at all times greater than his personal pride, and when he holds
    himself to the same line of duty when unobserved as he would
    follow if all of his superiors were present.

The list could be longer, but for the moment, we can let it go at
that. These standards are not counsels of perfection; thousands of
officers have adhered to them. But it should be said as well that if
all leaders at the lower levels in all of the services were to conform
in the same way, the task of higher command would be simplicity
itself. The cause of much of the friction in the administrative
machinery is that at all levels there are individuals who insist on
standing in their own light. They believe that there is some special
magic, some quick springboard to success; they mistakenly think that
it can be won by bootlicking, apple-polishing, yessing higher
authority, playing office politics, throwing weight around, ducking
the issues, striving for cheap popularity, courting publicity or
seeking any and all means of grabbing the spotlight.

Any one of this set of tricks may enable a man to carry the ball
forward a yard or two in some special situation. But at least this
comment can be made without qualification: Of the men who have risen
to supreme heights in the fighting establishment of the United States,
and have had their greatness proclaimed by their fellow countrymen,
there is not one career which provides any warrant for the conclusion
that there is a special shortcut known only to the smart operators.
True enough, a few men have gained fairly high rank by dint of what
the late Mr. Justice Holmes called "the instinct for the jugular"--a
feeling for when to jump, where to press and how to slash in order to
achieve somewhat predatory personal ends. That will occasionally
happen in any walk of life. But from Washington, Wayne, and Jones down
to Eisenhower, Vandegrift, and Nimitz, the men best loved by the
American people for their military successes were also men with
greatness of soul. In short, they were idealists, though they likely
would have disclaimed that label, since it somehow connotes the
visionary rather than the intensely practical man.

But it isn't necessary to look at the upper brackets of history to
find the object lesson. The things that any man remembers about his
own father with love and reverence have to do with his forbearance,
his charity toward other men, his strength and rightness of will and
his readiness to contribute of his force to the good of other people.
Or if not his father, then it may be an uncle, a neighbor or one of
his schoolmasters.

In one way, however, it illuminates but half the subject to reflect
that a man has to find purpose in himself before he can seek purpose
in any of the undertakings of which he is a part or in the society of
which he is a member. No man is wholly sufficient unto himself even
though he has been schooled from infancy to live according to
principles. His character and the moral strength from which he gains
peace of mind need constantly to be replenished by the force of other
individuals who think and act more or less in tune with him. His
ability to remain whole, and to bound back from any depression of the
spirit, depends in some measure on the chance that they will be
upgrading when he is on the downswing. To read what the wisest of the
philosophers have written about the formation of human character is
always a stimulating experience; but it is better yet to live next to
the man who already possesses what the philosophers are talking about.
During World War II, there were quite a few higher commanders relieved
in our forces because it was judged, for one reason or another, that
they had failed in battle. Of the total number, there were a few who
took a reduction in rank, went willingly to a lower post in a fighting
command, uttered no complaint, kept their chins up, worked
courageously and sympathetically with their commands, and provided an
example of manhood that all who saw them will never forget. Though
their names need not be mentioned, they were imprinted with the real
virtue of the services even more deeply than many of their colleagues
who had no blemishes on their records. Their character had met the
ultimate test. The men who had the privilege of working close to them
realized this and the sublime effect of this personal influence helped
strengthen the resolve of many others.

Because there is so much at stake in the matter, the services cannot
depend solely upon such influence as would be exerted on their affairs
by the occasional idealist, but must work for that chain reaction
which comes of making the inculcation of military ideals one of the
cardinal points of a strong, uniting inner doctrine. It is altogether
necessary that as a body, the power of their thought be shaped along
ideal lines. The ideal object must be held high at all times, even
though it is recognized that men are not perfect, and that no matter
how greatly they may aspire, they will occasionally fail. Nor is the
effort to lead other men to believe in the transcendent importance of
goodwill made less effective because the leader has a conscience about
his own weakness, _provided he has the good sense not to flaunt it_.
He need not be a paragon of all the virtues to set an example which
will convince other men that his ideas are worth following. No man
alive possesses perfect virtue, which fact is generally understood.
Many an otherwise ideal commander is ruthless in his exactions upon
his staff; many a petty officer, who has won the absolute love of all
men with whom he served, has found himself in the middle because he
couldn't think straight about his debts. But these things do not
lessen the impact upon men of thinking together about common ideals
and working together toward the fulfillment of some high obligation.
The pursuit of ideals culminates in the experience of mutual growth.
If that were not so, men who have served the arms of the United States
would not continue to have a special respect for the uniform, and an
extra reverence for the flag, for years after they have passed from
the service. These emotions are not the consequence of habit, but come
of having known the comradeship of other men whom they loved and
respected, who shared these same thoughts, and believed in the same
body of ideals.

Any normal man loves his country and it is natural in him to regard
highly the symbols through which this affection is expressed. An
American child of kindergarten age already feels an emotional
attachment for the national emblem. The recruit who has just entered
upon service can begin to understand that his regard for his uniform
must be a far different thing than what he felt about his civilian
dress, since it is identified with the dignity of the Nation. His
training in military ideals starts at this point, and for the main
part is carried forward subtly, by transfer of this same feeling to
all other objects associated with his military life. His perseverance
in the care of weapons, in keeping his living quarters orderly and in
doing his full share of work is best insured, not through fear of
punishments, but by stimulating his belief that any other way of going
is unworthy of a member of a fighting service.

Precision in personal habits, precision in drill and precision in
daily living are the high road to that kind of discipline which best
insures cool and collected thought and unity of action on the field of
battle. When men, working together, successfully attain to a high
standard of orderliness, deportment and response, each to the other,
they develop the cohesive strength which will carry them through any
great crisis. For this reason mainly, military life is far more
exacting than civil life. But the services hold that what is best for
the many can be achieved without cramping the personal life or
blighting individuality and initiative. Within the frame of our
system, we can achieve obedience and discipline without destroying
independence and impulse.

This is idealism, though we seldom think about it in that light.
Further, it is all the better that in the beginning these impressions
are developed obliquely, rather than through the direct approach of
reading a lecture on ideals and ethics, since it means that the man is
assisted to reach certain conclusions by himself, and as Kant has
said, those things which a man learns pretty much on his own become
the ideas that he is least likely to forget.

Looking at this subject in its largest aspect, it should be perfectly
clear that any institution must know what its ideals are before it can
become coherent and confident, and that there must be present in the
form of clearly available ideas an imaginative conception of the good
at which the institution aims.

This is fully recognized in the American armed establishment. For many
years, the program of indoctrinating military ideals has been
inseparably linked with instruction in democratic ideals, teaching as
to the American way of life and clear statement of the policies and
purposes of the Government of the United States in its relations with
all others powers and peoples.

Moreover, it is an accepted principle in all services that this
mission can not be carried forward competently except by those
officers who are directly in charge of forces. It is not a job for
chaplains or orientation specialists, because it cannot flourish
unless it is in the hands of those leaders whom men know well and in
whom they place their confidence. When men are well led, they become
fully receptive to the whole body of ideas which their leaders see fit
to put before them.

There are two points which follow, as a matter of course.

An officer's ability to talk effectively on these or other subjects to
his men can be no better than his information, irrespective of his
zeal or of his own firm belief in the ideals of his country and
service.

All other things being equal, his effectiveness will depend on the
extent to which he participates in all of the other affairs of
organization. If he is remote from the spirit of his own unit, and
indifferent to the varying activities which enter into the building of
that spirit, he will not have a sympathetic audience when he talks to
men about the grand objectives of organization. There is something
terribly incongruous about a man talking to troops on the ideal
purposes of the military service if all they see of him convinces them
that he is loyal only to his own rank and his pay check. It can be
said without any qualification that when an officer's interest in the
unit is limited strictly to those things which _have to be done_ in
line of duty, even though he attends to them truly and well, he will
never have a strong hold on the sympathy and imagination of his men.
When he takes an enthusiastic part in the sports program of the ship,
the company, the squadron or the battalion, even though he has no
natural talent for sport, when he voluntarily helps in furthering all
activities within the unit which are designed to make leisure more
enjoyable, and when he is seen by his men attending religious
exercises, his magnetism is increased. It was noteworthy during World
War II that church attendance among enlisted personnel took a
tremendous bound forward when it was seen that their officers were
present at church services. This provided tremendous support to those
chaplains who were intent not only on praising the Lord but on passing
moral ammunition to all ranks so that they would be better prepared
for the ordeal ahead.

Recognizing that instruction in the duties of citizenship, and
providing information which will enable Americans to have a better
understanding of their national affairs, is part of the arch of morale
and of a strong uniting comradeship, the Armed Services nevertheless
hold that _the keystone of the arch, among fighting forces, is the
inculcation of military ideals and the stimulation of principles of
military action_. Unless orientation within the services is balanced
in this direction, the military spirit of all ranks will suffer, and
the forces will deteriorate into an assembly of Americans who,
whatever their enthusiasms for the nation, will lack an organized
capacity to serve it efficiently along the main line of resistance.

To round out any discussion of how military ideals are formed, much
more needs to be said about the nature of courage on the battlefield
and, in preparation for it, about the winning and meaning of loyalty
within the Armed Services and how instruction on these points and all
related matters is best advanced within the organization.

But the object of this chapter is to define certain governing
principles. The substantive parts of the subject can be more clearly
presented further along in the book.




CHAPTER THREE

RESPONSIBILITY AND PRIVILEGE


There is a common saying in the services, and elsewhere, that greater
privileges grow out of larger responsibilities, and that the latter
justifies the former. This is part truth and part fable.

In military organization, as in industry, business, and political
life, the more important a man's position, the more lavish he is
likely to be in his office appointments and living arrangements, and
the greater the care that is apt to be taken in freeing him of
trifling annoyances.

But that is only partly because of the need for him to conserve his
time and energy. When men are successful, they like the good things of
life. Why deny it? Not one individual in 10,000 would aspire to power
and authority if it meant living like a hermit.

There is no way that the military establishment can denature human
nature, and change this determining condition. Nor is there any reason
why it should wish to do so. Its men, like all others, develop a sense
of well-being from those advantages, many of them minor, which attend,
and build prestige, both in private and in official life. The
incentive system by which our country has prospered has always
recognized that privilege is a reward for effort and enterprise. The
American people have always accepted that reasonable, harmless
privileges should attend merit. It is by enhancing the prestige of
leaders and by making their positions attractive that the Armed Forces
get better officers and men.

One of the keenest-minded Americans of our time has said:
"Responsibilities are what devolve upon a person, and privileges are
what he ought not to have, but takes." In a perfect universe, that
would be a perfect truth. But men being as they are, prideful and
desirous of any mark of recognition, privileges are the natural
accompaniment of rank and station, and when not wilfully misused, may
contribute to the general welfare. At all levels, men will aspire
more, and their ambition will be firmer, if getting ahead will mean
for them an increase in the visible tokens of deference from the
majority, rather than simply a boost in the paycheck. To complain
about this quality in human nature is as futile as regretting that the
sun goes down.

However, since it is out of the abuse of privilege that much of the
friction between authority and the rank-and-file arises, the subject
can't be dropped at that point. What puts most of the grit into the
machinery isn't that privileges exist, but that they are exercised too
often by persons who are not motivated by a passionate sense of duty.
For it is an almost inviolable rule of human behavior that the man who
is concerned most of all with his responsibilities will be fretted
least about the matter of his privileges, and that his exercise of any
rightful privilege will not be resented by his subordinates, because
they are conscious of his merit.

We can take two officers. Lieutenant "A" enters the service with one
main question in mind: "Where does my duty lie?" So long as he remains
on that beam, he will never injure the morale of the service by using
such privileges as are rightfully his as an officer. But in the mind
of Lieutenant "B" the other idea is uppermost: "What kudos do I get
out of my position?" Unless that man changes his ways, he will be a
troublemaker while he remains in the service, a headache to his fellow
officers and a despoiler of those who are under him.

In recent years, we have learned a lot about American manpower. We
have seen enough of the raw material under testing conditions to know
that, with the exception of the occasional malcontent who was
irreparably spoiled before he left home, American young men when
brought into military organization do not resent rank, and are
amenable to authority. Indeed, they expect that higher authority will
have certain advantages not common to the rank-and-file, because that
is normal in our society in all of its workday relationships.

But they do not like to have their noses rubbed in it by officers who,
having no real moral claim on authority, try to exhibit it by pushing
other people around. And when that happens, our men get their backs
up. And they wouldn't be worth a hoot in hades if they didn't.

Even as privilege attends rank and station, it is confirmed by custom,
and modified by time and environment. What was all right yesterday may
be all wrong tomorrow, and what is proper in one set of circumstances
may be wholly wrong in another.

Take one example. In Washington's Continental Army, a first lieutenant
was court-martialed and jailed because he demeaned himself by doing
manual labor with a working detail of his men. Yet in that same
season, Major General von Steuben, then trainer and inspector of all
the forces, created a great scandal and almost terminated his
usefulness by trying to rank a relatively junior officer out of his
quarters. Today both of these usages seem out of joint. Any officer
has the _privilege_ of working with his men, if he needs exercise,
wishes to see for himself how the thing is done, or feels that an
extra hand is needed on the job at a critical moment. As for any
notion that his quarters are his permanent castle no matter who comes,
he had best not make an issue of the point!

But to emphasize it once again, duty is the great regulator of the
proper exercise of one's rights. Here we speak of duty as it was meant
by Giuseppe Mazzini, Italy's great patriot of the early Nineteenth
Century, when he said: "Every mission constitutes a pledge of duty.
Every man is bound to consecrate his every effort to its fulfillment.
He will derive his rule of action from the profound conviction of that
duty." For finally the key lies in this, that out of high regard for
duty comes as a natural flow that sense of proportion which we call
common sense.

Adjustment and dignity in any situation are impossible when minds are
bent only on a code of conduct rather than on action which is
consistent with the far objectives. In the early stages of World War
II, it was not unusual to see a junior officer walking on the public
sidewalk, hands free, and looking important, while his wife tagged
along, trying to keep step, though laden like a pack mule. This was
because someone had told him that it was not in keeping with an
officer's dignity to be seen heavily burdened. In the nature of
things, anyone so lacking in gallantry as that would stimulate very
little respect for the officer corps.

Actually, in these times, there are relatively few special privileges
which attend officership, and though the war brought perhaps a few
excesses, the post war trend has been in the other direction.

Normally, an officer is not expected to buck a chow line, or any other
queue in line of duty, if he is sensibly in a rush. The presumption is
that his time is more valuable to the service than that of an enlisted
man. Normally, an officer is not expected to pitch a tent or spend his
energy on any hand labor incidental to housekeeping. Normally, he has
greater freedom of action and is less bound by minor restrictions than
the ranks.

But the accent in these things is decidedly on the word _normally_. If
a mess line were in an area under general fire, so that added waiting
meant extra danger, then only a poltroon would insist on being fed
first. And while an officer wouldn't be expected to pitch a tent, he
would dig his own foxhole, unless he was well up in grade. At that,
there were a few high commanders in World War II who made it a point
of pride to do their own digging from first to last. Greater "freedom
of action," too, can go out the window, for conditions arise,
particularly in war, when freedom of action can not be permitted
anyone except the very top authority. When a general restriction is
clamped down, the officer caught violating it is in more serious
jeopardy than the enlisted offender.

As the entire body of this book is directed toward the consideration
of the fundamental responsibilities in officership, the special
comments in this chapter will relate mainly to propositions not stated
elsewhere.

Though it has been said before, even so, it can be said again: It is a
paramount and overriding responsibility of every officer to take care
of his men before caring for himself. From the frequent and gross
violation of this principle by badly informed or meanly selfish
individuals comes more embarrassment to officer-man relationships than
perhaps from all other causes put together. _It is a cardinal
principle!_ Yet many junior officers do not seem to understand that
steadfast fidelity to it is required, not lip service. "And of this,"
as Admiral Mahan would say, "comes much evil." The loyalty of men
simply cannot be commanded when they become embittered by selfish
action.

Then how deeply does this rule cut? In line of duty, it applies right
down to the hilt! When a command is worn, bruised, and hungry,
officers attend to their men's creature comforts and make sure that
all is going well, before looking to their own needs. If an officer is
on a tour with an enlisted man, he takes care that the man is
accommodated as to food, shelter, medical treatment or other prime
needs, before satisfying his own wants; if that means that the last
meal or the last bed is gone, his duty is to get along the hard way.
If a command is so located that recreational facilities are extremely
limited, and there are not enough to go around, the welfare of the
ranks takes priority over the interests of their commissioned leaders;
in fact, it would be more correct to say that the welfare of men _is_
the prior interest of the officer.

These few concrete illustrations show, in general, what is expected.
Once the main idea is grasped, the way of its total application
becomes clear. Officers do not go around playing pigtail to enlisted
men. But they build loyalty by serving the men first, when all
concerned are following a general line of duty together.

It is an incumbent responsibility on all officers to maintain the
dignity of the uniform and prevent anyone from sullying it. This means
not only the dress of person, but the uniform wherever it is worn
publicly by any man of the United States forces. Where the offense is
committed by a member of some other service and the disgrace to the
uniform is obvious, it is the duty of the officer to intervene, or to
bring about intervention, rather than to walk out on the situation.
This calls for judgment, tact, nerve. The offense must be real, and
not simply an offense against one's private sensibilities. But
indecencies, exhibitionism and bawdiness of such a nature that if done
on a reservation would warrant trial of the individual for unbecoming
conduct will justify intervention by the officer under public
circumstances.

Similarly, any officer has a responsibility to any enlisted man who is
in personal distress, with no other means of ready help. Suppose they
just happen to meet in a strange community. The enlisted man's
credentials are shown to be _bona fide_. But he has had his pocket
picked, or has lost his wallet, or has just missed the train that
would have carried him back from his leave on time, and he doesn't
know what to do. For any officer to brush-off a forthright request for
aid or advice under such circumstances is an unofficerly act.
Likewise, if one suspects, just from appearances, that the man is in
trouble and somewhat beyond his depths, it will be found that, far
from resenting a kindly inquiry, he will mark it to the credit of the
whole fighting system.

To say that an officer owes a fellow officer no less consideration
than this is to state the obvious. Officers meeting in transit usually
get into conversation; it is a habit that adds much to one's
professional education. When an officer is getting into a strange
town, or arriving at a new post, anything done by a fellow officer to
help him get oriented, or to make things friendly and easy for him,
furthers the comity of the corps. Between officers of differing
services these small courtesies are particularly appreciated. Nor does
the matter end there. Within Unit A, the officers have the
responsibility of continuing support to the officers of Unit C, Unit
B, and so on. Though they are in a sense competing, each trying to
build higher than the other, they must never forget that the basic
technique of organization is cooperation. What "A" knows that has
helped his unit, or whatever he can do to assist "B" and "C" without
materially depriving himself, it becomes his official and moral
obligation to transmit. An officer can never understand his own
command problem very well unless he knows, at least a little, of how
things are going in other units. And the statement can be reversed. He
cannot judge the problems of other people unless he tries passionately
to understand his own people.

There are many other minor articles within what is sometimes called
the "unwritten code" which help to regulate life in the services, and
to sweeten it.

But what counts most is not the knowing of the rule but the sharing of
the spirit which gives it meaning and makes its proper administration
possible.




CHAPTER FOUR

PLANNING YOUR CAREER


The main purpose of this book is to stimulate thought and to encourage
the average young officer to seek truth for, and in, himself. It is
never a good idea to attempt a precise formula about matters which are
by nature indefinite and subject to all number of variable factors.

Thus with respect to career planning, despite all of the emphasis put
upon that subject in modern America, it would be plain error to infer
that any man can become all-wise, as to the direction which he should
take with his own life, simply by steeping himself in all of the
information which is to be had on this subject.

That might qualify him to give top-lofty advice to all others on how
to make the start up the right ladder, and he would win a reputation
as a personnel expert, which in itself is no mean assignment. But in
all probability, he would still be doing better by himself than by any
other individual.

American library shelves are stacked with such books as "Planning Your
Future," "New Careers for Youth," and "The Problem of Vocational
Guidance." The pages are laden with sage counsel and bromidic
expressions. But their chief public value is that they enabled a
writer, his publisher and the bookseller to get a little further ahead
in life.

Reflecting the trend elsewhere in the national life, the Armed
Services are equipped to give their forces the advantage of career
management principles, and to assist their men to plan their
professional careers. The opportunities and the job qualifications can
be described. Also, somewhat more thoroughly than is done in civil
life, the establishment's system of record-keeping throws a partial
light on the aptitudes of the individual. The qualified man is soon
known by his "spec number" or maybe two numbers. It might seem
therefore that things are so well-regulated that the prospect of
every man finding his niche is better than even.

The fact remains that the majority of individuals spend the greater
part of their lives doing something other than that which would bring
out their best quality and give them the greatest satisfaction, mainly
because accident, in one form or another, put them into a particular
channel, and inertia kept them there.

A boy builds model airplanes. His hobby being a force in his youthful
years, he becomes a pilot, and then discovers to his shocked amazement
that he does not have his heart in machines but in the management of
men. A man who has lived his life among guns, and who enjoys the feel
and the working of them, enters the service and permits himself to be
made a food procurement specialist, having run that kind of business
in civil life only because he had inherited it from his father. An
officer assigned to a weapons detail finds it hard going. And the fact
that he takes a delight in writing a good paper still does not signal
to him that this is his main field and he should exploit it to the
fullest!

To what do these things point? In particular, to this, that despite
all of the help which may be provided by outside agencies, finding the
straight thoroughfare in work is mainly a problem of searching
self-examination and personal decision. The impression which any other
person may have of our talents and possibilities is largely formed by
what we say, think and feel about ourselves.

This does not require that constant introspection which is found in
Cecil Forester's nervous hero, "Captain Horatio Hornblower." That man
doubtless would have died of stomach ulcers before winning his second
stripe. It is not a matter of, "How do I look to someone else?" but
of, "What do I know about myself?" The kind of work which one likes
best and does with the greatest facility, the avocational study which
is pursued because it provides greater delight than an encharged
responsibility, the talent which one had as a youth but was dropped
because of the press of making a living, the task which looks alluring
though one has lacked either the chance, or the courage, to try a
hand at it--these are among the more fertile points of inquiry.

Weighing it out, the service officer has an unrivaled opportunity for
fruitful experiment.

In the first place, he has made the fundamental decision to serve his
country in the profession of arms. The meaning of that decision should
not be lost on him. It is by nature patriotic. But if he regards his
inheritance simply as a snug berth and the best way to provide "three
squares" to himself and family throughout a lifetime, he is neither
soundly patriotic nor intelligently selfish.

After signing on the line for his country, the individual's duty to
himself is to strive by every honorable means to move ahead of his
competition by growing more knowledgeable and better qualified. _It is
the inherent right of every officer to request such service as he
believes will further his advancement_, and far from discouraging the
ambitious man, higher authority will invariably try to favor him. In
no other mode of life are older men so ready to encourage the willing
junior.

Gen. H. H. Arnold, the great air leader of World War II, is an
inspiring case study with respect to several of these points. He wrote
in "Global Mission" how he considered quitting the Army in disgust
upon being commissioned in infantry, following graduation, so deeply
was his heart set upon service in cavalry. But something held him to
the assignment. Some years later he tried to transfer to ordnance
because the prospect for advancement looked better. While still
ruminating on this change, he was offered a detail to the newly
forming aviation section of the signal corps, and took it, not because
he had a clear vision of the future, but because it looked like a
chance to get ahead. Thus, almost inadvertently, he met the
opportunity of which came his world fame.

This emphasizes another peculiar advantage belonging to the young
officer who is trying to orient himself toward the line of greatest
opportunity. In civil life, the man who flits from job to job is soon
regarded as a drifter and unstable. In the military establishment an
ability to adjust from job to job and to achieve greater all-around
qualification by making a successful record in a diversified
experience becomes a major asset in a career. Generalship, in its real
sense, requires a wider knowledge of human affairs, supported by
specialized knowledge of professional techniques, than any other great
responsibility. Those who get to the top have to be many-sided men,
with skill in the control and guidance of a multifarious variety of
activities. Therefore even the young specialist, who has his eyes on a
narrow track because his talents seem to lie in that direction, is
well advised to raise his sights and extend his interest to the far
horizons of the profession, even while directing the greater part of
his force to a particular field.

After all, variety is the spice of life, as well as a high road toward
perfection. Of Princeton's 1932 class, 161, or 59 percent, were in the
armed services during World War II. Questioned after the war 70
percent of the total number replied that military service was
interesting, broadening, and profitable. But the main point was that
they said in overwhelming number that its great lure was that _they
were doing something new_. They liked it because it gave them a
legitimate excuse to quit their jobs and attempt something different.
In the services, a man may give vent to this natural desire without
impairing his record, and if he is young and not at all certain what
is his favorite dish, the more he broadens his experience, the more
likely it becomes that he will sharpen his view of his own
capabilities.

The possible hard consequence of looking at service opportunity
through any one lens is epitomized in one paragraph of a
reclassification proceedings on an officer relieved during World War
II while serving as assistant division commander:

    "Through no fault of his own, General Blank has never served with
    troops since he was a captain during World War I. He has been
    unable to keep pace with the problems of a commander on the
    battlefield of today. He is unqualified for command of troops due
    to lack of practical experience."

It is hard to imagine a more dismal ending for a career than that of
the man who aspires to rank, without having any honest concept of its
proportionate moral responsibilities, particularly when the lives of
others are at stake.

So when we say that "career planning" is a springboard to personal
success within the military establishment, it is not with the narrow
meaning that any officer should proceed to limit his field of
interest, decide quickly and arbitrarily where he will put his plow
and run his furrow, and then sit down and plot a schedule of how he
proposes to mount the success ladder rung by rung. That might suit a
plumber, or tickle the fancy of an interior decorator, but it will not
conserve the strength of the officer corps. Its consequence would be
to stereotype the thinking faculties of a professional whose inner
power flows from the questing imagination, eager curiosity and
versatility of its individuals. Intense specialization, to the
exclusion of all peripheral areas of knowledge, warps the mind and
limits the useful action and influence of its owner. Dr. Vannevar Bush
was a greater scientist on the day he made his decision to explore the
sphere of military knowledge, and greater still when he applied
himself to literature.

There are few men of great talent who initially have an unswerving
inner conviction that they possess the final answer, as to themselves.
They may feel reasonably sure about what they would like to do, though
still reserving an honest doubt about the validity of their instincts
and of their power to compete. Even long and successful experience
does not always allay this doubt. Said Washington, on being appointed
Commander-in-Chief: "I beg it may be remembered by every man in this
room that I this day declare with the utmost sincerity, I do not think
myself equal to the command I am honored with." Assurance, or by its
other name, self-confidence, is only a continuing willingness to keep
coming back and trying, without fear of coming a cropper, but with a
care to the constant strengthening of one's own resources. The motto
of Admiral Robert E. Peary: "I will find a way or make one," is not
over-bold; any officer can afford to paste the words inside his own
hat. But in the hard game with which Peary's fame is forever linked,
there were countless errors, an occasional hit, and at last a run.

The health and progressive spirit of the services come of the
many-sided officer who can make not one career for himself but three
or four. Had officers from all services been unwilling to go into the
industrial workshops and scientific laboratories of the Nation to try
their hands at wholly new lines of work, had successful cavalrymen
been unable to evolve as leaders of armored forces, had ship captains
and ensigns disdained taking to the air, had foot soldiers refused the
risks of parachuting and naval officers not participated as observers
with the infantry line to further SFC (ship fire control) we would
have run out of wind before winning World War II.

Some months after the war ended, the Secretary of the Navy,
recognizing the dilemma which confronted thousands of men who were
asking whether the wave of the future would be to the specialist or to
the all-around man, sent a message which applied not less to the
officers of every service:

    It is intended that the highest posts will be filled by officers
    of the highest attainments, regardless of specialty. Be assured,
    whatever may be your field of endeavor, that your future as an
    officer rests, as it always has, in your hands. The outstanding
    officer will continue to be he who attacks with all of his energy
    and enthusiasm the tasks to which he is assigned and who grows in
    stature and understanding with his years and with his experience.
    Responsibility comes to him who seeks responsibility. It is this
    officer, regardless of his field of effort, who will be called to
    high command.

There is not a chief of service who would shade the general tone of
this paragraph if asked to put before his own officers the one rule
which, most closely followed, would most surely bring success. Nothing
need be added to it and nothing should be taken away; it states the
case.

At the same time, and as the message itself implies, specialization,
like sex and the automobile, is here to stay. In the service,
perforce, even the balanced, all-around man has his specialty. In the
beginning, true enough, he may aspire only to being a soldier, marine,
sailor or airman. That is good enough in the cocoon stage. But
ultimately he emerges with the definite coloring of a ground fighter,
a gunner, an engineer officer, a signals man, a submariner, a weapons
man, a navigator, an observer, a transport officer or something else.
If his tact, bearing and quick pick-up suggest to his superiors that
he may be good staff material, and he takes that route, there are
again branch lines, leading out in roughly parallel directions, and
embracing activities in the fields of personnel, intelligence,
operations, supply and military government. And each one of these main
stems has smaller branches, greatly diversified. The man with a love
for logistics (and few have it) might some day find himself running
railroads or managing a port. The engineer could become a salvage
officer working a crew of deep sea divers, or as easily a demolitions
expert running a company of dynamiters. The expert in communications?
His next task might be setting up a radio station near the North Pole
or helping perfect radio control of troops over a 50-mile area.

It is in these things that the privilege of free choice arises, for
despite the popular theory that in the services you take what you are
given and like it, the placement of officers according to their main
aptitudes and desires is a controlling principle of personnel policy.
It is recognized throughout the military establishment that, in
general, men will do their best service in that field where they think
their natural talents are being most usefully employed.

Among the combat line commanders in World War II there were doctors,
dentists and even a few ministers. They could have had places in their
regular corps, but they were permitted to continue with the duty of
their own choice.

Concerning the main problem of the officer, in fitting himself for
higher command, the controlling principle is well expressed in the
words of a distinguished educator, Wallace B. Donham: "The hope of the
wisdom essential to the general direction of men's affairs lies not so
much in wealth of specialized knowledge as in the habits and skills
required to handle problems involving very diverse viewpoints which
must be related to new concrete situations. Wisdom is based on broad
understanding in perspective. It is common sense on a large canvas. It
is never the product of scientific, technological, or other
specializations, though men so trained may, of course, acquire it."

This puts just the right light on the subject. The military officer
specializes strictly to qualify himself more highly in his main
calling--the management of men in the practice of arms. Becoming a
specialist does not _ipso facto_ make him a better officer, or win him
preferment. It is part of the mechanism, though not the main wheel. As
Admiral Forrest P. Sherman has so well said: "We are not pushed
willy-nilly into specialization; there is never an excess of the
all-around, highly competent combat officer."

Concerning his choice, all general advice is gratuitous. Whatever
might be written here would be worth far less than the counsel or
suggestion of any superior, or for that matter, a colleague, who has
observed his work closely over a long period, who has some critical
faculty, and whose good will is beyond question.

Particularly, the _voluntary_ advice of such a person is worth notice.
That which is spontaneous usually has shrewd reason behind it. When
counsel is deliberately sought, it may catch the consultant unaware,
and in lieu of saying that which is well-considered, he may offer a
half-baked opinion, rather than be disappointing. But when another
person having one's trust, says: "Your natural line is to do
thus-and-so," it is time to ask him why, and check his reasoning with
one's own. Worth just as much earnest consideration is his negative
opinion, his strong feeling that what one is about to undertake is not
particularly suitable.

As for the man himself, it remains to survey thoughtfully the whole
range of possibilities, to keep the mind open and receptive to
impressions, to experiment but take firm hold in so doing, to tackle
each new task with as much enthusiasm as if it were to be his life
work, to ask for difficult assignments rather than soft snaps and to
be calmly deliberate, rather than rashly hasteful, in appraising his
own capabilities.

Self-study is a lifetime job. A great many engineers didn't realize
that they were born to make nuclear fission possible until there was
a three-way wedding between science, industry and the military in
1940. Many officers who have had a late blooming as experts in the
field of electronics and supersonic speeds had lived out successful
careers before these subjects first saw daylight.

As Elbert Hubbard said of it, the only way to get away from
opportunity is to lie down and die.




CHAPTER FIVE

RANK AND PRECEDENCE


The regulations that govern precedence among officers of the same
service and among the services in relation to each other have a very
real utility not only in determining succession to command and as
reminders of the authority to which all persons in the Armed Services
are subject but in providing precedent for all official or ceremonial
occasions in which officers or organizations of the several services
may find themselves cooperating. It is easy to imagine the confusion
that would result without such rules, especially if a junior commander
of a senior service had to defend the right of his organization to
occupy the place of honor ahead of a very senior commander with a
detachment from a junior service. These regulations are also the
arbiter in disputes arising between officers of equal rank who aspire
to command of the same unit.

The legislation which separated the Air Force from the Army again
raised the question of precedence in parades and ceremonies. Since the
Air Force is the junior service, as to date of recognition, the change
indicated the following parade order: (Reference, _Federal Register_,
Volume 14, Number 160, August 19, 1949, page 5203)

    1. Cadets, United States Military Academy.

    2. Midshipmen, United States Naval Academy.

    3. Cadets, United States Coast Guard Academy.

    4. United States Army.

    5. United States Marines.

    6. United States Navy.

    7. United States Air Force.

    8. United States Coast Guard.

    9. National Guard of the United States.

    10. Organized Reserve Corps of the Army.

    11. Marine Corps Reserve.

    12. Naval Reserve.

    13. Air Force National Guard of the United States.

    14. United States Air Force Reserve.

    15. Coast Guard Reserve.

    16. Other training organizations of the Army, Marine Corps, Navy,
    Air Force, and Coast Guard, in that order, respectively.

During any period when the United States Coast Guard shall operate as
a part of the United States Navy, the Cadets, United States Coast
Guard Academy, the United States Coast Guard, and the Coast Guard
Reserve, shall take precedence, respectively, next after the
Midshipmen, United States Naval Academy, the United States Navy, and
the Naval Reserve.

In any ceremony in which any or all of these components act together,
the table of precedence in appropriate regulations determines their
location in the column.

The ranks and insignia in the Armed Services have been substantially
the same since 1883. During World War II there were newly established
the five star ranks of general of the army and fleet admiral. After
the first World War the rank of general-of-the-armies was created to
honor General Pershing, who was permitted to choose the number of
stars he would wear. He chose four. After the Spanish-American War the
rank of admiral-of-the-navy was established for Admiral Dewey. No one
has held this rank since.

On November 15, 1776, Congress established the ranks of admiral,
vice-admiral, rear admiral and commodore corresponding to general,
lieutenant general, major general, and brigadier general. It also
established three grades of naval captains--captain of a 40-gun ship
and upward to rank with colonel, captain of a 20 to 40-gun ship to
rank with lieutenant colonel, captain of a 10 to 20-gun ship to rank
with major, and lieutenant to rank with captain in the Army.

Although the top naval ranks were provided, the only two officers ever
to attain a higher rank than captain prior to 1862 were Ezekiel
Hopkins, whom Congress on December 22, 1775, commissioned with the
rank of _C-in-C of the Fleet_, and Charles Stewart who was
commissioned _Senior Flag Officer_ by Congress in 1859. Hopkins and
Stewart were called "commodore" as was any other captain who commanded
more than one ship.

During our War of Independence, the Army had the rank of ensign and
the Navy did not. The several Army ranks were then distinguishable by
the color of the cockade, green for lieutenant, buff for captain, and
pink or red for a field officer. As early as 1780 major generals wore
two stars on their epaulettes and brigadier generals one. During our
quasi-war with France, toward the end of the eighteenth century,
Washington was commissioned lieutenant general, our first, and three
stars were prescribed to be worn by him.

In the Army Register for 1813 the rank of ensign had disappeared but
there were third lieutenants (as in the Soviet Army today) and
coronets. In 1832 the eagle was adopted as the insignia of colonel in
the Army and in 1857 the lieutenant colonel, captain, and first
lieutenant wore the same insignia as today. These insignia were
adopted some time in the interval between 1847 and 1857. The gold bar,
insigne of the second lieutenant, was authorized just prior to World
War I.

The Navy has used the same shoulder insignia as the Army since the
Civil War. However, shoulder insignia on blues were discontinued by
the Navy in 1911 but the insignia were still prescribed on epaulettes.
The Navy adopted the eagle for captain in 1852, twenty years after it
had been approved by the Army for colonels.

In the first half of the last century the Navy List contained officers
of four grades only. A captain wore three stripes, a master
commandant, two (master commandant, established in 1806, was changed
to commander in 1837;) and a lieutenant, one. A master had no stripe
but three buttons instead. There were midshipmen too, but they were
warrant officers and _aspirants_ for commissioned rank as the present
French term designates them.

Our first full general was U. S. Grant and our first full admiral,
David D. Porter; both won their rank in the Civil War. In that war
there was a large increase in the Navy and more naval ranks were
established. In 1862 ensign was provided in the Navy to correspond to
second lieutenant; and the term lieutenant commanding became
lieutenant commander. An ensign wore one stripe as now; an additional
stripe was added for each rank till the rear admiral had eight. Since
1869 the senior officers have worn the same stripes as now prescribed.
In 1883 the rank "master" was changed to lieutenant, junior grade.

The rank of commodore, which had been abolished, was temporarily
revived during World War II. The rank of passed-midshipman was
abolished about 1910; thereafter graduates of the Naval Academy were
commissioned ensign. The rank of ensign had previously been attained
by passed-midshipmen after 2 years at sea and a successful examination
at the end of that cruise. The only permanent change in recent years
was the addition of aviation cadet to both the Air Force and Navy
listings. The warrant rank of flight officer in the Air Force, which
was created during the war, has now been abandoned, all the flight
officers then holding warrants either being commissioned second
lieutenants or separated. The naval rank of commodore was likewise
dropped, and brigadier generals of the Army and Air Force now rank
with admirals of the lower half.

The following are the present corresponding ranks in the Armed
Services:

    -------------+-------------+-------------+-------------+-------------
        NAVY     |   MARINE    |    ARMY     |  AIR FORCE  |    COAST
                 |   CORPS     |             |             |    GUARD
    -------------+-------------+-------------+-------------+-------------
    Fleet Admiral|             |General of   |General of   |
                 |             |the Army     |the Air      |
                 |             |             |Force        |
    -------------+-------------+-------------+-------------+-------------
    Admiral      |General      |General      |General      |Admiral
    -------------+-------------+-------------+-------------+-------------
    Vice Admiral |Lieutenant   |Lieutenant   |Lieutenant   |Vice Admiral
                 |General      |General      |General      |
    -------------+-------------+-------------+-------------+-------------
    Rear Admiral |Major        |Major        |Major        |Rear Admiral
    (upper half) |General      |General      |General      |(upper half)
    -------------+-------------+-------------+-------------+-------------
    Rear Admiral |Brigadier    |Brigadier    |Brigadier    |Rear Admiral
    (lower half) |General      |General      |General      |(lower half)
    and          |             |             |             |and
    Commodore    |             |             |             |Commodore
    -------------+-------------+-------------+-------------+-------------
    Captain      |Colonel      |Colonel      |Colonel      |Captain
    -------------+-------------+-------------+-------------+-------------
    Commander    |Lieutenant   |Lieutenant   |Lieutenant   |Commander
                 |Colonel      |Colonel      |Colonel      |
    -------------+-------------+-------------+-------------+-------------
    Lieutenant   |Major        |Major        |Major        |Lieutenant
    Commander    |             |             |             |Commander
    -------------+-------------+-------------+-------------+-------------
    Lieutenant   |Captain      |Captain      |Captain      |Lieutenant
    -------------+-------------+-------------+-------------+-------------
    Lieutenant   |First        |First        |First        |Lieutenant
    (Junior      |Lieutenant   |Lieutenant   |Lieutenant   |(Junior
    Grade)       |             |             |             |Grade)
    -------------+-------------+-------------+-------------+-------------
    Ensign       |Second       |Second       |Second       |Ensign
                 |Lieutenant   |Lieutenant   |Lieutenant   |
    -------------+-------------+-------------+-------------+-------------
    Commissioned |Commissioned |Chief Warrant|Chief Warrant|Commissioned
    Warrant      |Warrant      |Officer      |Officer      |Warrant
    Officer      |Officer      |             |             |Officer
    -------------+-------------+-------------+-------------+-------------
    Midshipman   |             |Cadet        |Cadet        |Cadet
    -------------+-------------+-------------+-------------+-------------
    Warrant      |Warrant      |Warrant      |Warrant      |Warrant
    Officer      |Officer      |Officer      |Officer      |Officer
                 |             |Junior Grade |Junior Grade |
    -------------+-------------+-------------+-------------+-------------
    Aviation     |             |             |Aviation     |
    Cadet        |             |             |Cadet        |
    -------------+-------------+-------------+-------------+-------------

Officers of all the fighting service, whether regular or reserve, take
precedence among themselves according to their dates of rank. Officers
take command in their respective services in accordance with their
dates of rank in the line, the senior, unless otherwise ordered,
taking command, whether regular or reserve. The command of a task
force or group composed of commands from two or more services devolves
upon the senior commanding officer present in the force or group
unless otherwise designated by the appropriate common senior, acting
for the President.

The obvious exceptions to this are that officers outside the line
(that is, commissioned in specialized branches or corps) cannot
command line organizations. They may, however, in the Army and Air
Force, command organizations within the structure of their own corps.
Non-rated officers in the Air Force and Navy are not eligible to
command tactical flying units. As a specialized case of command, the
assigned first pilot and airplane commander of any aircraft continues
in command even though a pilot senior in rank may be aboard.

Retired officers of the Army rank at the foot of active officers of
the same grade; those of the Navy according to date of rank.

Changing personnel policies have been reflected by frequent revisions
of the scale and grade given noncommissioned leadership. This subject
should therefore be checked against current regulations. But as a
rough guide, the following can be taken as the corresponding
noncommissioned grades and rates in the services:

    -----+------------------+-------------+-------------+-------------
    PAY  |     NAVY AND     |    ARMY     |     AIR     |    MARINE
    GRADE|   COAST GUARD    |             |    FORCE    |    CORPS
    -----+------------------+-------------+-------------+-------------
    E-7  |Chief Petty       |Master       |Master       |Master
         |Officer           |Sergeant     |Sergeant     |Sergeant
    -----+------------------+-------------+-------------+-------------
    E-6  |Petty Officer     |Sergeant     |Technical    |Technical
         |First Class       |First Class  |Sergeant     |Sergeant
    -----+------------------+-------------+-------------+-------------
    E-5  |Petty Officer     |Sergeant     |Staff        |Staff
         |Second Class      |             |Sergeant     |Sergeant
    -----+------------------+-------------+-------------+-------------
    E-4  |Petty Officer     |Corporal     |Sergeant     |Sergeant
         |Third Class       |             |             |
    -----+------------------+-------------+-------------+-------------
    E-3  |[A]Airman         |Private      |Corporal     |Corporal
         |[A]Constructionman|First Class  |             |
         |[A]Dentalman      |             |             |
         |Fireman           |             |             |
         |Hospitalman       |             |             |
         |Seaman            |             |             |
         |Stewardsman       |             |             |
    -----+------------------+-------------+-------------+-------------
    E-2  |Apprentice        |Private      |Private      |Private
         |                  |             |First Class  |First Class
    -----+------------------+-------------+-------------+-------------
    E-1  |Recruit           |Recruit      |Private      |Private
    -----+------------------+-------------+-------------+-------------

    [A] Does not apply to Coast Guard.

Enlisted insignia of rank are of cloth, sewn on the sleeve of the
outer garment. Army chevrons are worn on both sleeves with the point
up, and special devices may be incorporated within the chevron to
indicate specialties. Chevrons for combat soldiers are blue on a gold
background, and all others are gold on a blue background. Naval
chevrons are worn point down. Air Force chevrons have no point, but
are a compound reverse curve with the deepest part of the curve worn
down; over this is imposed a star within a circle. Marine Corps
chevrons are worn on both sleeves with the point up and are gold on a
crimson background for the dress blue uniform, green on a red
background for the forest green uniform, green on a khaki background
for the khaki uniform, and for combat uniforms the chevrons are
stenciled on the sleeves in black ink.

[Illustration: ARMY AND MARINE CORPS]

[Illustration: NAVY AND COAST GUARD]

[Illustration: AIR FORCE]

All military and naval personnel are addressed in official
correspondence by their full titles. Off duty in conversations and in
unofficial correspondence, officers are addressed as follows:

    ARMY, AIR FORCE, MARINE CORPS

    All general officers                 General

    Colonels and Lt. Colonels            Colonel

    Majors                               Major

    Captains                             Captain

    Lieutenants                          Mister or Lieutenant

    Lieutenants in Medical Corps         Doctor or Lieutenant

    All Chaplains                        Chaplain

    Army nurses                          Nurse

    Cadets

      (Official address)                 Cadet

      (Unofficial address)               Mister

    Warrant Officers                     Mister

    All sergeants                        Sergeant

    Corporals                            Corporal

    Privates and Privates, First Class   Private Jones or Jones
      When the name is not known, an Army private may be addressed as
      "Soldier," and in the Marine Corps the term, "Marine," is proper
      in such a case.

    NAVY, COAST GUARD

    All Admirals                         Admiral

    Commodores                           Commodore

    Captains                             Captain

    Commanders                           Commander

    Lieutenant Commanders, lieutenants,
    ensigns and midshipmen               Mister

    All Chaplains                        Chaplain

    All medical officers (to commander)  Doctor

Except when in the presence of troops, senior officers frequently
address juniors as "Smith" or "Jones" but this does not give the
junior the privilege of addressing the senior in any other way than
his proper title. By the same token, officers of the same grade
generally address one another by their first or last names depending
on the degree of intimacy. The courtesy and respect for others which
govern the conduct of gentlemen are expected to prevail at all times.

Enlisted men are commonly addressed by their last names. Except in
cases where the officer has a blood relationship or a preservice
friendship with an enlisted man, the occasions on which an enlisted
man can properly be called by his first name are extremely rare.
Speaking face to face, it is proper to use either the last name,
alone, or the title of rank, or the last name and any accepted
abbreviation of the title. In calling First Sergeant Brown from among
a group, it would be acceptable to call for "Brown" but better still
"Sergeant Brown." In the Navy, the common practice in addressing Chief
Pharmacists Mate Gale, for instance, would be either "Gale" or
"Chief." On formal occasions, as in calling a senior enlisted man
front and center at a formation, the full military title would be
used: "Chief Bo's'ns Mate Gale and Master Sergeant Brown, front and
center." The longer form of address would also be proper in directing
a third party to report to Master Sergeant White.

A painstaking observation of the courtesies due to ranks of other
services is more than a sign of good manners; it indicates a
recognition of the interdependence of the services upon one another.
Failure to observe or to recognize the tables of precedence officially
agreed upon among the services is both stupid and rude. Any future war
will see joint operations on a scale never before achieved, and its
success will be dependent in large part upon the cooperation of all
ranks in all services. Likewise, in combined operations, the alert
officer will take it upon himself to learn and respect the insignia,
relative ranks, and customs of his Allies. By exerting himself in the
recognition of other ranks, by exacting adherence to the official
tables of precedence, he contributes not only to his own stature as a
professional soldier, sailor, marine or airman, but adds to the
reputation of his service.

In the main requirements, military courtesy varies but little from
nation to nation. During service abroad, an American officer will
salute the commissioned officers and pay respects to the anthems and
colors of friendly nations just as to those of his own country.




CHAPTER SIX

CUSTOMS AND COURTESIES


Mutual respect and courtesy are indispensable elements in military
organization. The junior shows deference to the senior; the senior
shows consideration for him. The salute is the ancient and universal
privilege of fighting men. It is a recognition of a common fellowship
in a proud profession. Saluting is an expression of courtesy,
alertness, and discipline. The senior is as obliged to return it as
the junior is to initiate it. In fact, in the Army particularly, it is
not unusual to see the senior salute first. Interservice salutes
should be exchanged as punctiliously as between members of a single
service, for both services stand to gain or lose by the manner in
which this act is performed.

The general rules governing saluting are based on common sense, good
manners, and the customs of the times. For instance, soldiers actively
engaged in sports are not required to salute, nor is any man leading a
horse, since the sudden motion so near the horse's head might make it
restive. There will always be occasions when it is inconvenient,
impractical, or illogical to render or require the return of a salute.
The intent of the regulation is not that it embarrass or demean the
individual, but that it serve as a signal of recognition and greeting
between members of the military brotherhood. According to regulations,
in all services, the salute is initiated by the junior, and at any
convenient distance that insures recognition, the least being about
six paces. The form of the salute is the same in the Army, Navy and
Air Force, and it is given either from the position of attention or at
a walk. It is not given indoors except when reporting to another
officer in an official capacity. In the Navy, it is customary for the
junior initiating a salute to combine it with "Good morning, Sir," as
a means of reinforcing its meaning as a greeting. Where this is done
in the other two services, it is usually the result of a local
directive expressing the wish of a particular commander. While it is
expected that the junior will initiate such a greeting, there is no
obligation upon him to do so, nor is there any reason that the senior
may not say it first.

The Navy and Air Force require that the junior, when engaged in work
that brings him in reasonably frequent contact with the same seniors
during the course of the working day, salute each senior officer the
first time that he is passed during the day, but not subsequently
unless a change in circumstances requires it. In the Air Force an
enlisted mechanic working on the line would salute the engineering
officer and his assistants the first time he recognized them during
the day. If he passed one of the same officers later in the day, for
example in front of the post exchange, he would salute again. The Army
requires that a salute be given and returned each time the junior
passes the senior, unless circumstances dictate that it be temporarily
suspended by common agreement. The Commanding Officer of a naval
vessel is saluted whenever met.

Salutes are not mandatory on the driver of a vehicle, whether moving
or idling at the curb, for the reason that the operator is presumed to
need both hands for driving. Salutes are not exchanged between moving
vehicles, between moving and halted vehicles, or between persons
walking and persons riding in official cars except when it is obvious
that the passenger is a senior, or when it is required as part of a
ceremony. Official vehicles carrying general officers or flag officers
will be clearly marked outside, and will be saluted. A salute is
exchanged between persons in a parked vehicle and persons walking,
unless the car is a bus or taxi. When two boats pass each other, the
senior officer in each boat salutes without rising.

Aside from saluting, there are certain other customs that govern
conduct around official vehicles. Since the place of honor is on the
right, the junior not only walks on the left, but rides there as well.
In entering a car, the junior enters first, followed by other members
of the party in inverse order of rank, each seating himself so that
the senior may take position on the right side. In leaving the car,
the senior debarks first. However, if following this general procedure
would necessitate any member of the party climbing over another, or
in any other way cause an awkward situation, the senior may enter
first and alight last.

The same rules govern for boarding and leaving small boats, except
that the junior rides forward and the senior aft.

In boarding aircraft with a single hatch, the pilot enters first,
followed by the copilot and other members of the crew. With the crew
in place, other passengers enter according to rank, the senior first;
he takes the seat of his choice if the aircraft is equipped with
seats. In either transport or tactical aircraft, the senior officers
generally ride as far forward as possible. In leaving the aircraft,
the aircrew who handle deplaning normally leave first, followed by
passengers in order of seniority.

The long association of the Air Force with the Army precludes any
large body of custom and tradition that can be called peculiarly Air
Force in origin or usage. In time undoubtedly a considerable body of
distinctive official and social courtesies will grow, but at present
most of the official and unofficial usages given here for the Army are
understood to be applicable to the Air Force as well, and will be so
treated.

The hand salute is required on all military installations and in
occupied territories, whether on or off duty; in all official greeting
in the line of duty both on and off the base; for ceremonial
occasions; and in honoring the National Anthem, or color, or
distinguished persons.

Since most military posts or bases are guarded on a twenty-four hour
basis, the first official contact will be with the guard on the main
gate. He may be a soldier or airman selected by roster and under the
temporary control of the Officer of the Day, a Military Policeman
wearing an MP brassard and under the command of the Provost Marshal,
or a civilian guard either under the Provost or some other special
staff agency of the Post or Base Commander. On the ordinary post or
base, officers of other services will be admitted if wearing uniform,
even when accompanied by civilian dependents. If the stay is of short
duration, a "visitors" tag on the car may be sufficient; in other
cases it may be necessary to secure a temporary pass from the Provost.

Except for civilian guards, who do not salute, and who will be
readily identified in their police uniforms, the guard, if armed with
a pistol or carbine will give a hand salute. During the hours for
challenging (usually extending from a short time before darkness until
after reveille the next morning) sentries on an Army post may require
any officer to halt, give his rank and name, and advance for
recognition. The challenging sentry stands at "raise pistol" or "port
arms" until the challenged party has been recognized, after which he
simply returns his weapon to the normal carrying position; if armed
with a rifle, he executes "present arms" and holds it until the salute
is returned.

On any post or base, the adjutant usually acts for the commanding
officer in greeting the visitor and directing him to the various
facilities of the base, although if the visit is to be of short
duration--say, just for the purpose of seeing a friend--it would be
impertinent to bother him. But if the visiting officer is reporting
for temporary duty, or if he will be living in the immediate vicinity
for some time on special detail and desires the use of post
facilities, he is required to report to the adjutant.

Most posts and bases have not only a bachelor officers quarters, more
popularly known by the abbreviation BOQ, where the visitor may obtain
lodging, but also a Hostess House where the officer may stay with his
dependents. These accommodations are usually under the supervision of
the Billeting Officer, who makes the assignments and charges a nominal
fee for the services provided. Other facilities that the visitor may
use include the Officer's Club and dining room, the Post Exchange
(corresponding to Navy Exchanges), and the post theater. Under certain
conditions the visitor may secure permission from the adjutant or
executive to make purchases at the Commissary, which deals in
foodstuffs and other perishables.

Special dinners are served to the enlisted men on Christmas,
Thanksgiving, July 4, New Year's Day and sometimes on February 22. The
company commander and lieutenants of the company accompanied by their
wives and families and other guests visit the dining room and kitchen
just before Christmas dinner is served, often remaining for dinner as
guests of the organization. In some companies the soldiers are
permitted to invite their wives and other ladies to dinner. In some
commands, the post commander accompanied by his staff and some of the
ladies of the garrison visit all the dining rooms and kitchens just
previous to dinner hour.

A newly arrived officer on a post and the adult members of his family
are usually invited to be in the receiving line at the first
regimental function after their arrival.

If you arrive at a post at which you expect to remain longer than 24
hours you should check with the post adjutant for rules on calling.
The adjutant will also give the normal calling hours in effect at the
post or station. You are usually expected to call on the post
commander. If assigned to duty there, you would normally call on all
of your intermediate commanders at their offices. These calls should
be made immediately after the call on the post commander. If unable to
wear uniform, an explanation should be made for appearing in civilian
clothes.

When it is in keeping with local rules, as verified by the adjutant,
you should follow the official visit by a social call on the post and
intermediate commanders at their residence within 72 hours after your
arrival. If the commander is married and his wife is present on the
post, it is customary for you to make the visit accompanied by your
wife. These calls should be formal and ordinarily last no longer than
fifteen minutes.

You need not make other calls until the officers of the battalion,
regiment or garrison have called on you except that as junior officer
you should make the first call on field officers of your organization.

It is customary for all officers of a unit or garrison to call upon
the commanding officer on New Year's Day. (Again the commanding
officer's desire in this matter can be asked of his aide or adjutant.)

The visitor at the average Army and Air Force post will probably see
few ceremonies other than retreat. This ceremony, which closes the
official day, may be accompanied either by appropriate bugle calls, or
by a parade with a military band. In the former case, the music will
sound _To the Color_, and in the latter, the _National Anthem_, while
the flag is being lowered. Retreat is held daily at a fixed time,
usually about 1700 hours. Posts with saluting cannon fire one round at
the designated hour. At the first note of either the _National Anthem_
or _To the Color_, all dismounted persons face toward the color or
flag and render the prescribed salute from attention; the salute is
held until the last note of the music has been played. In the event
the flag cannot be seen and the location of the flag staff is unknown
to the person saluting, he faces toward the sound of the music.

At parades and reviews and on other occasions when uncased colors are
carried, all military personnel salute at six paces distance and hold
the salute until the color or standard is the same distance past. When
personal honors are being rendered to general or flag officers at a
review, all military personnel present and not in formation salute
during the ruffles, flourishes, and march. When a cannon salute is
given, personnel in the immediate vicinity conform to the actions of
the person being saluted. No salute is required during the 48 gun
salute to the Nation on the Fourth of July.

Military personnel also salute during the passing of a caisson or
hearse in a military funeral. If attending the services at the grave
side either as mourners or as honorary pallbearers, they stand at
attention with the head-dress over the left breast at any time the
casket is being moved, and during the service at the grave, including
the firing of the volleys and the sounding of _Taps_. In cold or
inclement weather, the head-dress is left on and the hand salute is
rendered during the movement of the casket, the firing of the volleys,
and the sound of _Taps_.

On ships having 180 or more men of the seaman branch, the side is
attended by side boys for visiting officers of our Armed Services,
except in civilian clothes, and for officers of the Foreign Service
when they come on board and depart. This courtesy is also extended to
commissioned officers of the armed services of foreign nations.
Officers of the rank of lieutenant to major inclusive are given two
side boys, from lieutenant colonel to colonel four side boys, from
brigadier to major general six side boys, and lieutenant general and
above eight side boys. Full guard and band are given to general
officers, and for a colonel the guard of the day but no music.

During the hours of darkness or low visibility an approaching boat is
usually hailed "Boat ahoy?" which corresponds to the sentry's
challenge, "Who goes there?" Some of the answers are as follows:

    ANSWER          MEANING: Senior in boat is:

    "Aye aye"       Commissioned officer

    "No no"         Warrant officer

    "Hello"         Enlisted man

    "Enterprise"    CO of U.S.S. Enterprise

    "Third Fleet"   Admiral commanding Third Fleet

Similarly if the CO of the 13th Infantry is embarked or the CO of
Fortress Monroe, the answers would be "13th Infantry" or "Fort
Monroe."

On arrival, at the order, "Tend the side" the side boys fall in fore
and aft of the approach to the gangway, facing each other. The
boatswain's mate-of-the-watch takes station forward of them and faces
aft. When the boat comes alongside the boatswain's mate pipes, and
again when the visiting officer's head reaches the level of the deck.
At this moment the side boys salute.

On departure, the ceremony is repeated in reverse, the bo's'ns mate
begins to pipe and the side boys salute as soon as the departing
officer steps toward the gangway between the side boys. As the boat
casts off the bo's'ns mate pipes again. (Shore boats and automobiles
are not piped.)

You uncover when entering a space where men are at mess and in Sick
Bay (Quarters) if sick men are present. You uncover in the wardroom at
all times if you are junior. All hands except when under arms uncover
in the captain's cabin and country.

You should not overtake a senior except in emergency. In the latter
case slow, salute, and say, "By your leave, sir."

Admirals and captains when in uniform fly colors astern when embarked
in boats. When on official visits they also display their personal
flags (pennants for commanding officers) in the bow. Flag officers'
barges are distinguished by the appropriate number of stars on each
side of the barge's hull. Captains' gigs are distinguished by the name
or abbreviation of their ships surcharged by an arrow.

Where gangways are rigged on both sides, the starboard gangway is
reserved for officers and the port for enlisted men. Stress of weather
or expedience (in the discretion of the officer of the deck or OOD)
may make either gangway available to both officers and men.

Seniors come on board ship first. When reaching the deck you face
toward the colors (or aft if no colors are hoisted) and salute the
colors (quarterdeck). Immediately thereafter you salute the OOD and
request permission to come on board. The usual form is, "Request
permission to come aboard, sir." The OOD is required to return both
salutes.

On leaving the ship the inverse order is observed. You salute the OOD
and request permission to leave the ship. The OOD will indicate when
the boat is ready (if a boat is used). Each person, juniors first,
salutes the OOD; then faces toward the colors, salutes and embarks.

The OOD on board ship represents the captain and as such has
unquestioned authority. Only the executive and commanding officer may
order him relieved. The authority of the OOD extends to the
accommodation ladders or gangways. He is perfectly within his rights
to order any approaching boat to "lay off" and keep clear until in his
judgment he can receive her alongside.

The OOD normally conveys orders to the embarked troops via the Troop
Commander but in emergencies he may issue orders direct to you or any
person on board.

The _bridge_ is the "Command Post" of the ship when underway, as the
quarterdeck is at anchor. The officer-of-the-deck is in charge of the
ship as the representative of the captain. Admittance to the bridge
when underway should be at the captain's invitation or with his
permission. You may usually obtain permission through the executive
officer.

The _quarterdeck_ is the seat of authority; as such it is respected.
The starboard side of the quarterdeck is reserved for the captain (and
admiral, if a flagship). No person trespasses upon it except when
necessary in the course of work or official business. All persons
salute the quarterdeck when entering upon it. When pacing the deck
with another officer the place of honor is outboard, and when
reversing direction each turns towards the other. The port side of the
quarterdeck is reserved for commissioned officers, and the crew has
all the rest of the weather decks of the ship. However, every part of
the deck (and the ship) is assigned to a particular division so that
the crew has ample space. Not unnaturally every division considers it
has a prior though unwritten right to its own part of the ship. For
gatherings such as smokers and movies, all divisions have equal
privileges at the scene of assemblage. Space and chairs are reserved
for officers and for CPO's, where available, and mess benches are
brought up for the men. The seniors have the place of honor. When the
captain (and admiral) arrive those present are called to attention.
The captain customarily gives "carry on" at once through the executive
officer or master-at-arms who accompanies him to his seat.

If you take passage on board a naval vessel you will be assigned to
one of several messes on board ship, the wardroom or junior officer's
mess. In off-hours, particularly in the evenings, you can foregather
there for cards, yarns or reading. Generally a percolator is available
with hot coffee.

The Executive Officer is ex officio the president of the wardroom
mess. The wardroom officers are the division officers and the heads of
departments. All officers await the arrival of the Executive Officer
before being seated at lunch and dinner. If it is necessary for you to
leave early, ask the head at your table for permission to be excused
as you would at home. The seating arrangement in the messes is by
order of seniority.

Naval Officers are required to pay their mess bills in advance. The
mess treasurer takes care of the receipts and expenditures and the
management of the mess. The mess chooses him by election every month.
When assigned to a mess you are an honorary member. Consult the mess
treasurer as to when he will receive payment for mess bills. Your
meals are served by stewards who in addition, clean your room, make up
your bunk, shine your shoes. This is their regular work for which they
draw the pay of their rating. They are not tipped.

The Cigar Mess is the successor of the old Wine Mess. You may make
purchases from this mess, for example, of cigarettes, cigars, pipe
tobacco and candies. The cigar mess treasurer will make out your bill
at the end of the month or before your detachment. Before you are
detached be sure that the mess treasurer and the cigar mess treasurer
have sufficient warning to make out your bills before you leave. Once
a ship has sailed, long delays usually occur before your remittances
can overtake it. The unpaid mess bill on board is a more serious
breach of propriety than the unpaid club bill ashore because of the
greater inconvenience and delay in settlement.

Passenger officers should call on the captain of the ship. If there
are many, they should choose a calling committee and consult the
executive officer as to a convenient time to call. The latter will
make arrangements with the captain.

Gun salutes in the Navy are the same as in the Army, except that flag
officers below the rank of fleet admiral or general of the Army are,
by Navy regulations, given a gun salute upon departure only. By Army
regulations gun salutes for the same officers are fired only on
arrival.

The rules governing saluting, whether saluting other individuals or
paying honor to the color or National Anthem, are the same for the Air
Force as in the Army, with the minor exceptions already noted. Because
a most frequent contact between the Air Force and the other services
comes of the operations of air transport, an officer should know what
is expected of him when he travels as a passenger in military
aircraft.

It is assumed that the majority of officers visiting an Air Force base
will arrive by air at the local military airfield. In addition to the
Base Operations Officer, who is the commander's staff officer with
jurisdiction over air traffic arriving and departing, the Airdrome
Officer is charged with meeting all transient aircraft, determining
their transportation requirements, and directing them to the various
base facilities. General officers and admirals will usually be met by
the Base Commander if practicable. RON (Remaining Over Night) messages
may be transmitted through Base Operations at the same time the
arrival notice is filed.

Pilots of transient aircraft carrying classified equipment are
responsible for the safeguarding of that equipment unless it can be
removed from the aircraft and stored in an adequately guarded area.
Under unusual circumstances, it may be possible to arrange for a
special airplane guard with the base commander.

Passengers from other services, who desire to remain overnight at an
air force station should make the necessary arrangements with the
Airdrome Officer, and not attach themselves to the pilot who will be
busy with his own responsibilities. By the same token, passengers of
other services who have had a special flight arranged for them should
make every effort to see that the pilot and crew are offered the same
accommodations that they themselves are using, unless the particular
base has adequate transient accommodations.

Passenger vehicles are never allowed on the ramp or flight line unless
special arrangements have been made with the Base Operations Officer;
this permission will be granted only under the most unusual
circumstances.

The assigned first pilot, or the airplane commander, is the final
authority on the operation of any military aircraft. Passengers,
regardless of rank, seniority, or service, are subject to the orders
of the airplane commander, who is held responsible for their adherence
to regulations governing conduct in and around the aircraft. In the
event it is impractical for the airplane commander to leave his
position, orders may be transmitted through the copilot, engineer, or
flight clerk, and have the same authority as if given by the pilot
himself.

The order of boarding and alighting from military aircraft--excluding
the crew--will vary somewhat with the nature of the mission. If a
special flight is arranged for the transportation of Very Important
Persons, official inspecting parties, or other high ranking officers
of any service, the senior member will enter first and take the seat
of his choice, unless the aircraft is compartmented otherwise. Other
members of the party will enter in order of rank, and precedence among
officers of the same rank will be determined among the officers
themselves. In alighting from the aircraft, the senior member will
exit first, and the other members of the party will follow either in
order of rank, or in order of seating, those nearest the hatch
alighting first. The duties of the crew preclude their acting as
arbiters in matters of precedence, and order of boarding and alighting
will be decided among the members of the party.

In routine flights, officers will normally be loaded in order of rank
without regard for precedence, except that any VIP will be on- and
off-loaded first; in alighting, officers will leave as they are seated
from the exit forward--officers seated near the hatch will debark
first, and so on to those who are seated farthest forward. In the
event civilian dependents are being carried, or an enlisted man
accompanied by dependents, they will be loaded after any VIP and
before the officers, and leave in the same sequence.

Aircraft carrying general or flag officers will usually be marked with
a detachable metal plate carrying stars appropriate to the highest
rank aboard, and will be greeted on arrival by the Air Force Base
Commander, if the destination is an Air Force base. Other aircraft are
usually met by the Airdrome Officer, who is appointed for one day
only, and acts as the Base Commander's representative.

Other personnel on active duty, seeking transportation on navigation
or training missions, should realize that the flight is at the pilot's
convenience. While the pilot will usually agree to any reasonable
request, he can not deviate from his approved flight plan simply to
accommodate a passenger. By the same token, passengers should be
prompt, observe all pertinent safety regulations, and remain in the
passengers compartment of the aircraft unless specifically invited to
the flight deck or pilot's compartment. Under instrument
conditions--so-called "blind" flying--continuous movement of the
passengers of the aircraft makes unnecessary work for the pilot in
maintaining balance, trim, and his assigned altitude. Passengers who
are abnormally active while in the air are sometimes called--with
exasperation--"waltzing mice."

Since flights are somewhat dependent on weather, especially when
carrying passengers, the decision of the pilot to fly or not to fly,
or to alter his flight plan enroute will not be questioned by the
passengers of whatever rank or service. Regulations governing the use
of safety belts; wearing of parachutes; smoking during take-off,
landing, fuel transfer, or in the vicinity of the aircraft on the
ground are binding on all classes of passengers.

When airplanes participate in the funeral of an aviator, it is
customary to fly in a normal tactical formation, less one aircraft, to
indicate the vacancy formerly occupied by the deceased. The flight
should be so timed that it appears over the procession while the
remains are being carried to the grave. Care should be exercised that
the noise of the flight does not drown out the service at the edge of
the grave.

Other ceremonies, including Retreat and reviews, are the same for the
Air Force as for the Army.

By custom; and because it is the natural way of an American, the
officers of the host service accord more than their average
hospitality to the individual from any other service who may be
visiting or doing duty among them. Even the young officer, having this
experience for the first time, and in consequence feeling a little
strange about it, is not permitted to feel that way long. He quickly
finds a second home, provided there is that in his nature which
responds to friendship.

These amenities, carefully observed at all levels, contribute more
directly to a spiritual uniting of American fighting forces than all
of the policies which have been promulgated toward the serving of that
object.




CHAPTER SEVEN

KEEPING YOUR HOUSE IN ORDER


In one of Lord Chesterfield's letters to his son there is to be found
this bit of wisdom: "Dispatch is the soul of business and nothing
contributes more to dispatch than method. Fix one certain hour and day
in the week for your accounts, keep them together in their proper
order, and you can never be much cheated."

Although that is good advice in any man's league, there is just a
little more reason why the military officer should adopt a system of
accounting whereby he can keep his record straight, his affairs
solvent and his situation mobile than if he had remained in civil
life.

He rarely, if ever, becomes permanently fixed in one location or
remains tied to one group of individuals who know his credit, his
ability, his past accomplishments and his general reputation. In the
nature of his work, these things have to be reestablished from point
to point, and if he personally does not take pains to conserve them,
he can be certain only that no one else ever will.

On the whole, the attitude of the services toward the private affairs
and nonduty conduct of their officers can be best set forth by once
again employing Chesterfield's phrases: "If you have the knowledge,
the honor, and probity which you may have, the marks and warmth of my
affection will amply reward you; but if you have them not, my aversion
and indignation will rise in the same proportion."

Reassignment to a distant station is of course a day-to-day
possibility in the life of any military officer. Far from this being a
general hardship, it is because the pattern of work and environment
changes frequently, and the opportunity to build new friendships is
almost endless, that the best men are attracted to the services. To
vegetate in one spot is killing to the spirit of the individual who is
truly fitted to play a lead part in bold enterprises, and for that
reason there is something very unseemly and unmilitary about the
officer who resists movement.

On the other hand, a move order is like a club over the head to the
officer who hasn't kept his own deck clean, has made no clear
accounting of himself and is out of funds and harassed by his
creditors.

Concerning the evils of running into debt, there is hardly need for a
sermon to any American male who has brains enough to memorize his
general orders. As Mr. Micawber put it to David Copperfield, "The
blossom is blighted, the leaf is withered, the god of days goes down
upon the dreary scene, and--and in short, you are forever floored."
The over-extension of credit is a not unknown American failing. It is
now the nigh universal custom to overload the home with every kind of
gadget, usually bought on time, and nearly all intended to provide the
householder with every possible excuse for resisting human toil or for
declining to use any personal ingenuity in making life interesting for
his family. It is all good enough for those who must have it, but it
is well for an officer to remember that the greater the accumulation,
the less his chance of accommodating his personal establishment to the
requirements of the service. All moves are costly, even though the
government pays most of the freight.

For these and many other reasons, the habit of systematic saving is an
essential form of career insurance. The officer who will not deprive
himself of a few luxuries to build up a financial reserve is as
reckless of his professional future as the one who in battle commits
his manpower reserve to front-line action without first weighing his
situation.

In the old days, keeping up with the Joneses was almost a part of
service tradition. If the colonel's lady owned a bob-tailed nag, the
major's wife could be satisfied with nothing less than a bay. And so
on and on. Things are no longer that way. They have become much more
sensible.

There is one other kind of credit--the professional credit which an
officer is entitled to keep with his own establishment. Junior
officers are entitled to know that which their superiors are often
too forgetful to tell them--that if they have made some especially
distinct and worthy contribution to the service, it belongs in the
permanent record. If, for example, an officer has written part of a
manual, or sat on a major board or committee or provided the idea
which has resulted in an improvement of materiel, the fact should be
noted in the 201 file, or its equivalent. Such things are not done
automatically, as many an officer has learned too late and to his
sorrow. But any officer is within propriety in asking this
acknowledgment from his responsible superior.

The legal assistance office in an officer's immediate organization
will usually suffice his needs in the drawing of all papers essential
to his personal housekeeping.

To make a will is merely good business practice, and to neglect it
simply because one's holdings are small is to postpone forming the
habits which mark a responsible person. Because of superstition and a
reluctance to think about death, about three out of every four
Americans die intestate. That is about as foolish as leading men into
battle without designating a second in command. The Armed Services
counsel all officers to take the more responsible view, and make it
easy for their officers to do this duty without cost.

A power of attorney enables one person to take certain legal steps for
another in his absence, and execute papers which would usually require
his signature. When an officer is going on an extended tour overseas,
his interests are apt to be left dangling unless he leaves such a
power with his wife, mother, best friend or some other person, thereby
avoiding loss of money and excess worry.

Any citizen may draw up a will in his own handwriting, and if it is
properly attested, it will have some standing in court. Likewise, a
power of attorney can be executed on a blank form. But it is foolish
for a military officer to do these things halfway when the legal
offices of the service are available to him, not only for performing
the work, but for counseling him as to its effect.

There is one other step that the responsible man takes on his own. It
is not likely that his wife or any other person knows at any one time
the whole story of his interests, obligations and holdings, as to
where goods may be stored, savings kept, insurance policies filed,
what debts are owed and what accounts are receivable. In the event of
his sudden death, next of kin would be at a loss to know whom and
where to call to get the estate settled smoothly, and with all things
accurately inventoried. So it is a practical idea to keep an
up-to-date check list in ledger form, but containing all pertinent
information whereby things may be made readily accessible. If for some
private reason, it is preferred not to leave this with next of kin, it
can be kept in a top drawer at the office, where it could scarcely
escape attention.

A current inventory of household goods is also a safety and
time-saving precaution. As changes occur, the list can be corrected
and kept fresh. Then in case of a sudden move, there is almost nothing
to be done in preparation for the movers, and in the event of loss
anywhere along the line, one's own tables will provide a basis for
recovery. Goods are not infrequently mislaid, lost, or damaged when
shipped or warehoused, and the more authentic the description of the
goods in question, the better the chances for the claim.

For any officer with dependents, insurance is of course a necessity.
How much it should be, and what its form, are matters for his judgment
and conscience, and according to his circumstances. The services do
not try to tell a man how he should provide for his family. Men of
honor need no such reminder, though they may be bothered by the
question: "How much can I afford?" On that point, sufficient to say
that it is _not_ more blessed to be insolvent and worried about debts
from being overloaded with insurance than for any other reason. Many
retired officers supplement their pay by selling insurance. When a
young service officer wants insurance counsel, he will find that they
are disposed to deal sympathetically with his problem.

A few recurrent expenses, such as insurance premiums and bond
purchases, can be met with allotments through the Finance or
Disbursing Officer. The forms for the starting of an allotment are
quite simple. When an officer is going overseas, if his dependents are
not to follow immediately, an allotment is the best way to insure
that they will get their income regularly. Overseas expenses are
usually quite light, which means that the allotment may safely be made
in larger amount than half the monthly pay. Under certain
circumstances, it may also be arranged for allotments to be made to
banks, as a form of steady saving.

Adverting for a moment to the question of what happens to a service
officer when he becomes ridden by debt and plagued by his creditors,
it is a fair statement that the generality of higher commanders are
not unsympathetic, that they know that shrewdness and thrift are quite
often the product of a broadened experience, and that their natural
disposition is to temper the wind to the shorn lamb, if there are
signs that he is making a reasonable effort to recover. When it
becomes clear that he is taking the service for a ride and cares
nothing for the good name of the officer corps, they'll send him
packing. A man harassed by debt, and not knowing how to meet his
situation, is always well-advised to go to his commander, make a clean
statement of the case, and ask for his counsel.

Every officer should be absolutely scrupulous about keeping a
complete, chronologically arranged file of all official papers having
anything to do with his status, movements, duties, or possessions.
That may seem burdensome, but it is well worth doing, since one never
knows when an old paper will become germane to a current question or
undertaking.

Likewise, receipts are necessary whenever one spends money on anything
(for instance, travel) on which reimbursement is expected from the
Government. Regulations are clear on this point--the Government simply
will not give the individual the benefit of the doubt. No receipt; no
check from the Treasury.

The military society is a little more tightly closed than a civilian
society, particularly in posts, camps and stations. For that reason
the pressure from the distaff side is usually a little heavier. Wives
get together more frequently, know one another better, and take a more
direct interest in their husbands' careers than is common elsewhere.
That has its advantages, but also its headaches. There is an
occasional officer who is so immature in his judgments as to permit
his wife's feelings about a colleague or a colleague's wife to
supervene in the affairs of organization. This is one way to ask for
trouble.

Gossip is to be avoided because it is vicious, self-destructive,
unmanly, unmilitary and, most of the time, untrue. The obligation of
each officer toward his fellow officer is to build him up, which
implies the use of moral pressure against whatsoever influence would
pull him down. While the love of scandal is universal, and the
services can not hope to rid themselves altogether of the average
human failings, it is possible for any man to guard his own tongue
and, by the example of moderation, serve to keep all such discussion
temperate. Were all officers to make a conscious striving in this
direction, the credit of the corps as a whole, and the satisfactions
of each of its members in his service, would be tremendously
increased. Besides, there is another point: gossip is the mark of the
man insufficiently occupied with serious thought about his personal
responsibilities. His carelessness about the destruction of the
character of others is incidental to his indifference to those things
which make for character in self.

As for the rest of it, we can turn back to Chesterfield, with whom we
started. For how might any man state it more neatly than with these
words:

"Were I to begin the world again with the experience which I now have
of it, I would lead a life of real, not of imaginary pleasure. I would
enjoy the pleasures of the table and of wine, but stop short of the
pains inseparably annexed to an excess of either.

"I should let other people do as they would without formally and
sententiously rebuking them for it. But I would be most firmly
resolved not to destroy my own faculties and constitution in
complaisance to those who have no regard for their own.

"I would play to give me pleasure, but not to give me pain. That is, I
would play for trifles in mixed companies, to amuse myself and conform
to custom. But I would take care not to venture for sums which if I
won I would not be the better for, but if I lost, should be under a
difficulty to pay."




CHAPTER EIGHT

GETTING ALONG WITH PEOPLE


The main answer can be stated almost as simply as doing right-face.
Hear this:

If you like people, if you seek contact with them rather than hiding
yourself in a corner, if you study your fellow men sympathetically, if
you try consistently to contribute something to their success and
happiness, if you are reasonably generous with your thoughts and your
time, if you have a partial reserve with everyone but a seeming
reserve with no one, if you work to be interesting rather than spend
to be a good fellow, you will get along with your superiors, your
subordinates, your orderly, your roommate and the human race.

It is easy enough to chart a course for the individual who is wise
enough to make human relationships his main concern. But getting the
knack of it is sufficiently more difficult that it is safe to say more
talk has been devoted to this subject than to any other topic of
conversation since Noah quit the Ark. From Confucius down to Emily
Post, greater and lesser minds have worked at gentling the human race.
By the scores of thousands, precepts and platitudes have been written
for the guidance of personal conduct. The odd part of it is that
despite all of this labor, most of the frictions in modern society
arise from the individual's feeling of inferiority, his false pride,
his vanity, his unwillingness to yield space to any other man, and his
consequent urge to throw his own weight around. Goethe said that the
quality which best enables a man to renew his own life, in his
relation to others, is that he will become capable of renouncing
particular things at the right moment in order warmly to embrace
something new in the next.

That is earthy advice for any member of the officer corps. For who is
regarded as the strong man in the service--the individual who fights
with tooth and nail to hold to a particular post or privilege? Not at
all! Full respect is given only to him who at all times is willing to
yield his space to a worthy successor, because of an ingrained
confidence that he can succeed as greatly in some other sphere.

For a fresh start in this study of getting along with people, we could
not do better than quote what was published some time ago in the
United States Coast Guard Magazine. Under the title "_Thirteen
Mistakes_," the coast guardsmen raised their warning flares above the
13 pitfalls. It is a mistake:

    1. To attempt to set up your own standard of right and wrong.

    2. To try to measure the enjoyment of others by your own.

    3. To expect uniformity of opinions in the world.

    4. To fail to make allowance for inexperience.

    5. To endeavor to mold all dispositions alike.

    6. Not to yield on unimportant trifles.

    7. To look for perfection in our own actions.

    8. To worry ourselves and others about what can't be remedied.

    9. Not to help everybody wherever, however, whenever we can.

    10. To consider impossible what we cannot ourselves perform.

    11. To believe only what our finite minds can grasp.

    12. Not to make allowances for the weakness of others.

    13. To estimate by some outside quality, when it is that within
    which makes the man.

The unobserving officer will no doubt dismiss this list as just so
many cliches. The reflective man will accept it as a negative guide to
positive conduct, for it engages practically every principle which is
vital to the growth of a strong spiritual life in relation to one's
fellow men.

Certain of these points stand out as prominently as pips on a radar
screen to the military officer bent on keeping his own ship out of
trouble. The morals contained in 4, 5, 12, and 13 all come to bear in
the story told by Sgt. Fred Miller about Pvt. Fred Lang of Hospital
No. 1 on Bataan. Miller had tried to do what he could for Lang, but no
one else in the detachment was willing to give him a break. He was an
unlettered hillbilly and, being ashamed of his own ignorance, he was
shy toward other men. The rest of the story is best told in Miller's
words.

"When the Japs made their first bombing run on Marivales, most of us,
being new at war, huddled together under such cover as we could find.
Some people were hit outside. We stayed where we were. But we looked
out and saw Lang. He was trying to handle a stretcher by himself,
dragging one end along the ground in an effort to bring in the
wounded. I remember one member of our group remarking, 'Look at old
Lang trying to do litter drill right in the middle of a war.' Lang was
killed by an enemy bomb that night. I guess he had to die to make us
understand that he was the best man."

There is hardly an American who has been in combat but can tell some
other version of this same story, changing only the names and the
surroundings. All too frequently it happens in the services--we look
at a man, and because at a casual inspection we do not like the cut of
his jib, or the manner of his response, or are over-persuaded by what
someone else has said about him, we reach a permanent conclusion about
his possibilities, and either mentally write him off, or impair our
own capacity for giving him help.

It suffices to say that when any officer has the inexcusable fault
that he takes snap judgment on his _own_ men, he will not be any
different in his relations with all other people, and will stand in
his own light for the duration of his career. Which leads to one other
observation. When any man, bearing a bad efficiency report, comes to a
new organization, it is a fact to be noted with mild interest, but
_without any prejudice whatever_. Every new assignment means a clean
slate, and there should be no hangover from what has happened,
including the possible mistaken judgments of others. The system was
never intended to give a dog a bad name. To be perpetually supervised,
questioned and shadowed is to be doubted, and doubt destroys
confidence and creates fear, slyness and discontent in the other
individual. Every man is entitled to a fresh hold on security with his
new superior. Any wise and experienced senior commander will tell you
this, and will cite examples of men who came to him with a spotty
record, who started nervously, began to pick up after realizing that
they were not going to get another kick, and went on to become
altogether superior. For any right-minded commander, it is far more
gratifying to be able to salvage human material than to take over an
organization that is sound from bottom to top.

However, the truth in point 9 applies universally. The studied effort
to be helpful in all of our relations with our fellow men, and to give
help not grudgingly, but cheerfully, courteously and in greater
measure than is expected, is the high road to wide influence and
personal strength of character. More than all else, it is the little
kindnesses in life which bind men together and help each wayfarer to
start the day right. These tokens are like bread cast upon the water;
they ultimately nourish the giver more than the direct beneficiary.
One of our best-known corps commanders in the Pacific War made it a
rule that if any man serving under him, or any man he knew in the
service, however unimportant, was promoted or given any other
recognition, he would write a letter to the man's wife or mother,
saying how proud he felt. He was not a great tactician or strategist
but, because of the little things he did, men loved him and would ride
to hell for him, and their collective moral strength became the
bastion of his professional success.

Of Maj. Gen. Henry T. Allen, who commanded our first Army of
Occupation in Germany, a distinguished contemporary once said: "It
surprised us that Allen did so well; in the old Army we regarded him
as a swashbuckler." Maybe that was because he was a cavalryman and
liked to strut, and he liked to see chestiness in his own people,
right down to the last file. But General Allen was infinitely
considerate of the dignity of all other men, and he disciplined
himself to further their growth and give them some mark of his
thoughtful regard so far as lay within his power. It was because of
his rich understanding humanity, and not through any genial slackness,
that he kept a tight hold on discipline. To the units he commanded he
gave his own tone. He warmed men instead of chilling them with fear.
Thousands returned to civil life better equipped for the passage
because of what they had seen him do and heard him say.

So we can link points 1, 6, 7, and 8 from the Coast Guard's list into
one binding truth not less essential to sound officership than to
action anywhere which seeks the cooperation and goodwill of men: _It
is not more blessed to be right than to be loved_, Henry Clay's remark
that he would rather be right than president notwithstanding. The
absolute perfectionist is the most tiresome of men, and a waster of
time and of nerves. The stickler, the fly-speckler, the bully and the
sadist serve only to encumber those parts of the establishment which
they touch; their subordinates spend part of their own strength
clearing away the wreckage which these misfits make.

Other than these comments, it is not necessary to say a great deal
about the _inner qualities_ which give an officer a free-wheeling
adjustment with other persons in all walks of life. Once again,
however, it might be well to speak of the importance of enthusiasm,
kindness, courtesy, and justice, which are the safeguards of honor and
the tokens of mutual respect between man and man. This last there must
be if men are to go forward together, prosper in one another's
company, find strength in the bonds of mutual service, and experience
a common felicity in the relationship between the leader and the led.

But it is sadly the case that the reputation of any man, as to what he
is inside, forms in large measure from what others see of him from the
outside. That is what makes poignant the story of Pvt. Fred Lang; like
a singed cat, he was better than he looked. In the military service,
more than elsewhere in life, manner weighs heavily in the balance, if
only for the reason that from the public point of view, the military
officer is supposed to look the part. He is expected to be the
embodiment of character, given to forthright but amiable speech,
capable of expressing his ideas and purpose clearly, careful of
customs and good usage, and carrying himself with poise and assurance.
For if he does not have the aura of vitality, confidence and
reflection which is expected in a leader of men, it will be suspected
that he is incapable of playing the part. However unfairly
discriminating that judgment may seem to be, in comparison with the
attitude toward other professions, it has a perfectly logical basis.
The people are willing to forgive preoccupation in all others, since
how an engineer dresses has no relation to his skill as a
mathematician, and when a doctor mumbles it doesn't suggest that he
would be clumsy with a scalpel. But when they meet an uncivil or
unkempt officer, or see an untidy soldier or bluejacket on the street,
they worry that the national defense is going to pot. One reason for
the great prestige of the Marine Corps is that the public seldom, if
ever, sees a sloppy marine, though its members do sometimes look a
little gruesome on the field of battle.

The officer corps does have its share of "characters." Some are men
born in an uncommon mold, with a great deal of natural phlegm in their
systems, a gift for salty speech and a tendency to drawl their words
as if their thoughts were being raised from a deep well. Usually, they
are men of extraordinary power, and are worth any dozen of that
individual who scuttles about like a water bug, making an exhibition
of great energy but, like the whirling dervish, keeping in such
constant motion that he has no chance to observe what goes on under
his nose. Here, as in all things, it is steadiness that does it. The
blunt soldier, the old sea-dog type of naval officer, is endurable and
even lovable in the eyes of most other people, when he has done his
scrapping with fire rather than firewater, when his personal
credentials are sound, and when his outward manner is bluff in both
meanings of the word. But the fakers who affect the crusty manner, the
glaring eye and the jutting jaw, simply because they are wearing
military suits and think mistakenly that these things are in the
tradition, will be recognized as counterfeit as quickly as a lead
quarter.

There is nothing else that serves as well as the natural manner, with
some polishing of the surfaces here and there, and a general
tightening at the corners.

While a partial check list is not likely to reform the establishment
overnight, if kept simple enough, it may afford help to an occasional
individual, instead of giving him the fear that he is falling apart at
the seams.

The smartest physical culturists are swinging around to the idea that
correct posture alone is the great secret of physical fitness, that if
a man sits well, stands erect and walks correctly all the time, he is
doing more for his health and longevity than all of the setting-up
exercises and sweat baths yet devised. At the same time he is making a
favorable impression on all who see him. Clumsy one-sided postures,
fidgeting on a chair, slouching while sitting or standing, moving
along at a shambling gait and speaking with the chin down on the chest
produce quite the opposite effect. Right or wrong, they are taken as a
sign of indolence, fatigue, or inattention. There is always an hour
for complete physical relaxation, for stretching and letting the
muscles melt; Winston Churchill attributed a large part of his vigor
and recuperative powers to the habit of taking a 30-minute cat nap in
midday. That is a smart trick if one can master it. But trying most of
all for _physical ease_ when in conversation, or at conference, or in
attending to any matter wherein one comes under the surveillance of
those whose good opinion is worth cultivating is as certain a handicap
as putting excess weight on an otherwise good horse.

In the services, as in any situation in life in which deference to
higher opinion is compelled by the nature of an undertaking, the young
will do well to consider the wisdom of the precept, "Be patient with
your betters."

It is lamentably bad judgment to act by any other rules. Where
differences of opinion exist, time and forbearance not infrequently
will work the desired change, where stubbornness or rudeness would
utterly fail. More than that, a junior owes this much consideration to
any senior whose heart is in the right place. It is bad manners, but
even worse from the standpoint of tactics, to attempt publicly to
score a victory over a senior in any dispute, or to attempt by wit to
gain the upperhand of him in the presence of others. Though the point
may be gained for the moment, it is usually at the cost of one's
personal hold on the confidence of the senior.

But there is also the other side of the case, that the superior should
deal considerately with any earnest proposal from his subordinate,
rather than dashing cold water in his face, just because he has not
thought his proposition through. One of the best-loved editors of the
United States, Grove Patterson, of Toledo, Ohio, was remembered by
every young journalist who ever came under him because of the care
with which he supported every man's pride. A youngster would go in to
him, filled with enthusiasm for some idea, which he himself had not
bothered to view in the round. Patterson would listen carefully, and
would then say: "That's a corking idea. Take it and work it out
carefully, going over every aspect of it. Then bring it back to me."
On second thought, the youngster would begin having his own doubts,
and would shortly begin hoping that the chief would forget all about
the subject, which he invariably did. Many celebrated commanders in
our military services have won the lasting affection of their
subordinates by employing exactly this method.

Men like the direct glance. They feel flattered by it, particularly
when they are talking, and in conversation they like to be heard
through, not interrupted in mid-passage. That is true whatever their
station. Nobody likes to be bored, but fully half of boredom comes
from lack of the habit of careful listening. The man who will not
listen never develops wits enough to distinguish between a bore and a
sage and therefore cannot pick the best company. The vacant stare, the
drifting of eyes from the speaker to a window, or a picture or a
passing blonde, though greatly tempting in the midst of long
discourse, are taken only as signs of inattention. Many a young
officer called to the carpet for some trivial business has managed to
square himself with his commander just by looking straight and talking
straight in the few moments that decided his future.

Elsewhere in the book, a great deal has been said about the importance
of the voice and of developing one's powers of conversation. Not a
great deal more needs to be added here. But there is no excuse for the
officer who talks so that others must strain to hear what he is
saying--unless he is suffering from laryngitis. It is simple enough
to keep the chin up and let the words roll out. Many persons have the
bad habit of letting the voice drop at the end of a sentence; the
effect on the other party is like watching a man run away from a
fight. For clear understanding, and to create a good impression, there
should be a cheerful lift upward at the end of a sentence.

Also, officers who look at lecturing simply as part of the routine
tend to fall into either the singsong rhythm which one frequently
hears in college professors and certain radio announcers, or go all
out for the sonorous intonations which are beloved by many of the
clergy. Many young officers get into these same cadences whenever they
talk to men, and before they know it, they are trying the same thing
in the family circle. They sound like alarm clocks running down, but
instead of arousing the house, they are an invitation to slumber.
Either on the lecture platform, or in man-to-man conversation, there
is no valid reason why it is ever necessary to take the tone which
suggests that the talk is one-sided. Words can be crisply uttered and
still be personally directed, but not if the speaker is looking at the
floor, the moon or the rafters. To discuss a question amicably is the
best way to gain clear insight into it; when a man argues violently,
his purpose usually is not to serve wisdom but to prevail despite his
lack of it, thus stultifying both himself and his adversary.

Clothes are important. They have to be. One can't go very far without
them, north of the Equator. But a fresh press counts more than a new
suit by a Fifth Avenue tailor left unpressed, and neatness beats
lavishness any day in the week.

Carefulness in the little things counts much. Men develop an aversion
to the individual who cannot remember their names, their titles or
their stations, but they will warm to the person who remembers, and
they will overlook most of his other shortcomings. Likewise, they are
won by any words of appreciation or of interest in what they are
doing. Get a man talking about his business, his golf game or his
family, and you are on the inside track toward his friendship. As for
senior commanders, when the hours comes for them to bat the ball back
and forth in friendly conversation, there is nothing they enjoy more
than reminiscing about experiences on the battlefield. Other than
inveterate surgical patients, no one can outdo them in talking about
their operations.

It isn't lengthy advice which is needed on this subject, since a man
commissioned is considered to have graduated from at least the
kindergarten of good manners. What counts is simply caring about it,
not to be ingratiating to other people, but for the sake of one's own
dignity and self-respect.

None of the oracles on winning friends and influencing people have
said it in those few words, and if they had, there would have been no
books to sell.




CHAPTER NINE

LEADERS AND LEADERSHIP


In that gallery of Great Americans whose names are conspicuously
identified with the prospering of the national arms in peace and war,
there are almost as many types as there are men.

There were a certain few qualities that they had to possess in common
or their names would never have become known beyond the county line.

But these were inner qualities, often deep buried, rather than outward
marks of greatness which men recognized immediately upon beholding
them.

Some almost missed the roll call, either because in early life their
weaknesses were more apparent than their strengths, or because of an
outward seeming of insignificance which at first fooled their
contemporaries.

In the minority are the few who seemed marked for greatness almost
from the cradle, and were acclaimed for leadership while still of
tender years.

Winfield Scott, a Brigadier in the War of 1812 when Brigadiers were
few, and Chief of Staff when the Civil War began, is a unique figure
in the national history.

George Washington, Adjutant of the State of Virginia at 21, is one
other military infant prodigy who never later belied his early fame.

The majority in the gallery are not like these. No two of them are
strikingly alike in mien and manner. Their personalities are as
different, for most part, as their names. Their characters also ran
the range of the spectrum, or nearly, if we are talking of moral
habit, rather than of conscientious performance of military duty. Some
drank their whiskey neat and frequently; others loathed it and took a
harsh line with any subordinate who used it.

One of the greatest generals in American history, celebrated for his
fighting hardly more than for his tippling, would walk from the room
if any man tried to tell an off-color story in his presence.

One of the most celebrated and successful of our Admirals endeared
himself to millions of men in all ranks and services by his trick of
gathering his chief subordinates together just prior to battle,
issuing his orders sternly and surely, and then relaxing long enough
to tell them his latest parlor story, knowing that finally it would
trickle down through the whole command.

Among the warriors in this gallery are men who would bet a month's pay
on a horse race. There are duellists and brawlers, athletes and
aesthetes, men who lived almost sainted lives and scholars who lived
more for learning than for fame.

Some tended to be so over-reclusive that they almost missed
recognition; others were hail-fellow-well-met in any company.

Their methods of work reflected these extreme variations in personal
type, as did the means they used to draw other men to them, thereby
setting a foundation for real success.

Part of their number commanded mainly through the sheer force of
ideas; others owed their fortune more to the magnetism of dynamic
personality.

In a few there was the spark of genius. All things seemed to come
right with them at all times. Fate was kind, the openings occurred,
and they were prepared to take advantage of them.

But the greater number moved up the hill one slow step at a time, not
always sure of their footing, buffeted by mischance, owning no exalted
opinion of their own merits, reacting to discouragement much as other
men would do, but finally accumulating power as they learned how to
organize the work of other men.

While a young lieutenant, Admiral Sims became so incensed, when the
United States would not take his word on a voucher, that he offered to
resign.

General Grant signally failed to organize his life as an individual
prior to the time when a turn of the wheel gave him his chance to
organize the military power of the United States in war.

General Sherman, who commanded the Army for almost 15 years, was
considered by many of his close friends to be a fit subject for
confinement as a mental case just prior to the Civil War.

General Meade, one of the sweetest and most serene of men in his
family relationships, lacked confidence in his own merits and was very
abusive of his associates during battle.

Admiral Farragut, whose tenderness as an individual are marked by the
16 years in which he personally nursed an invalid wife, was so
independent in his professional thought and action that both in and
out of the Navy he was disqualified as a "climber." He got into
wretched quarrels with his superiors mainly because he felt his
assignments afforded him no distinction. The Civil War gave him his
opportunity.

Admiral John Paul Jones, though an unusually modest man, was as
redoubtable in the boudoir as at sea, and it would be hard to say
which type of engagement most caught his fancy.

General Winfield Scott, as firm a commander as ever drew on a glove,
plagued the service with his petty bickering over rank, seniority, and
precedent.

They were all mortal. Being human, they had their points of personal
weakness, just as any newly appointed ensign or second lieutenant also
has weak spots in his armor, and sometimes views them in such false
proportion that he doubts his own potential for high responsibility.

There is not one perfect life in the gallery of the great. All were
moulded by the human influences which surrounded them. They reacted in
their own feelings, and toward other men, according as their personal
fortunes rose and fell. They sought help where it could be found. When
disappointed, they chilled like anyone else. But along with their
professional talents, they possessed, in common, a desire for
substantial recognition, accompanied by the will to earn it fairly, or
else the nation would never have heard their names.

All in all it is a multifarious gallery. If we were to pass it in
review, and then inspect it carefully, it would still be impossible to
say: "This is the composite of character. This is the prototype of
military success. Model upon it and you have the pinnacle within
reach."

The same thing would no doubt hold true of a majority of the better
men who commanded ships, squadrons, regiments, and companies under
these commanders, and at their own level were as superior in
leadership as the relatively few who rose to national stature because
of the achievements of the general body.

The same rule will apply tomorrow. Those who come forward to fill
these same places, and to command them with equal or greater authority
and competence, will not be plaster saints, laden with all human
virtue, spotless in character and fit to be anointed with a superman
legend by some future Parson Weems. They will be men with a human
quality, and a strong belief in the United States and the goodness of
a free society. They will have some of the average man's faults, and
maybe a few of his vices. But certainly they will possess the
qualities of courage, creative intelligence and physical fitness in
more than average measure.

What we know of our great leaders in the current age should disparage
the idea that only a superman may scale the heights. Trained observers
have noted in their personalities and careers many of the plain
characteristics which each man feels in himself and mistakenly
believes is a bar to preferment.

Drew Middleton, the British correspondent, wrote of Gen. Carl "Tooey"
Spaatz: "This man, who may be a heroic figure to our grandchildren, is
essentially an unheroic figure to his contemporaries. He is in fact
such a friendly, human person that observers tend to minimize his
stature as a war leader. He is not temperamental. He makes no rousing
speeches, writes no inspirational orders. Spaatz, in issuing orders
for a major operation involving 1,500 airplanes, is about as inspiring
as a groceryman ordering another five cases of canned peas."

In the files of the Navy Department there is a picture of Admiral Marc
A. Mitscher, the famed commander of Task Force 58, coming on board a
flagship to take command of a force of carriers. Officers and men are
lined up at spick-and-span attention. The Admiral himself appears as a
little man in a rumpled khaki uniform, tieless and wearing an
informal garrison cap. Under his arm is a book, and in the photograph
the title can be read as "Send Another Coffin." Mitscher liked
detective stories; he didn't like ceremonial pomp.

An interviewer who called on Gen. Ira C. Eaker when he was leading 8th
Air Force against Germany found "a strikingly soft-spoken, sober,
compact man who has the mild manner of a conservative minister and the
judicial outlook of a member of the Supreme Court. But he is always
about two steps ahead of everybody on the score, and there is a quiet,
inexorable logic about everything he does." Of his own choice, Eaker
would have separated from military service after World War I. He
wanted to be a lawyer and he also toyed with the idea of running a
country newspaper. In his off hours, he wrote books on aviation for
junior readers. On the side, he studied civil law and found it
"valuable mental training."

On the eve of the Guadalcanal landing, Gen. A. A. Vandegrift's final
order to his command ended with the stirring and now celebrated
phrase: "God favors the bold and strong of heart." Yet in the
afterglow of later years, the Nation read a character sketch of him
which included this: "He is so polite and so soft spoken that he is
continually disappointing the people whom he meets. They find him
lacking in the fire-eating traits they like to expect of all marines,
and they find it difficult to believe that such a mild-mannered man
could really have led and won the bloody fight." When another officer
spoke warmly of Vandegrift's coolness under fire, his "grace under
pressure," to quote Hemingway's phrase, he replied: "I shouldn't be
given any credit. I'm built that way."

The point is beautifully taken. Too often the man with great inner
strength holds in contempt those less well endowed by nature than
himself.

While there are no perfect men, there are those who become relatively
perfect leaders of men because something in their makeup brings out in
strength the highest virtues of all who follow them. That is the way
of human nature. Minor shortcomings do not impair the working loyalty,
or growth, of the follower who has found someone whose strengths he
deems worth emulating. On the other hand, to recognize merit, you must
yourself have it. _The act of recognizing the worthwhile traits in
another person is both the test and the making of character._ The man
who scorns all others, and thinks no one else worth following, parades
his own inferiority before the world. He puts his own character into
bankruptcy just as surely as does that other sad camp follower of whom
Thomas Carlyle wrote: "To recognize false merit, and crown it as true,
because a long tail runs after it, is the saddest operation under the
sun."

Sherman, Logan, Rawlins and the many others hitched their wagons to
Grant's star because they saw in him a man who had a way with other
men, and who commanded them not less by personal courage than by
patient work in their interest. Had Grant spent time brooding over his
civilian failures, he would have been stuck with a disorderly camp and
would never have gotten out of Illinois.

The nobility of the private life and influence of Gen. Robert E. Lee
and the grandeur of his military character are known to every American
school boy. His peerless gifts as a battle leader have won the tribute
of celebrated soldiers and historians throughout the English-speaking
world. Likewise, the deep religiosity of his great lieutenant,
Stonewall Jackson, the latter's fiery zeal and the almost evangelical
power with which he lifted the hearts of all men who followed him, are
hallmarks of character that are vividly remembered in whatever context
his name happens to be mentioned.

If we turn for a somewhat closer look at Grant it is because he, more
than any other American soldier, left us a full, clear narrative of
his own growth, and of the inner thoughts and doubts pertaining to
himself which attended his life experience. There was a great deal of
the average man in Grant. He was beset by human failings. He could not
look impressive. He had no sense of destiny. In his great hours, it
was sweat, rather than inspiration, dogged perseverance, rather than
the aura of power, which made the hour great.

Average though he was in many things, there was nothing average about
the strong way in which he took hold, applying massive common sense to
the complex problems of the field. That is why he is worth close
regard. His virtues as a military leader were of the simpler sort
which plain men may understand and hope to emulate. He was direct in
manner. He never intrigued. His speech was homely. He was
approachable. His mind never deviated from the object. Though a
stubborn man, he was always willing to listen to his subordinates. He
never adhered to a plan obstinately, but nothing could induce him to
forsake the idea behind the plan.

History has left us a clear view of how he attained to greatness in
leadership by holding steadfastly to a few main principles.

At Belmont, his first small action, he showed nothing to indicate that
he was competent as a tactician and strategist. But the closing scene
reveals him as the last man to leave the field of action, risking his
life to see that none of his men had been left behind.

At Fort Donelson, where he had initiated an amphibious campaign of
highly original daring, he was not on the battlefield when his army
was suddenly attacked. He arrived to find his right wing crushed and
his whole force on the verge of defeat. He blamed no one. Without more
than a passing second's hesitation, he said quietly to his chief
subordinates: "Gentlemen, the position on the right must be retaken."
Then he mounted his horse, and galloped along the line shouting to his
men: "Fill your cartridge cases quick; the enemy is trying to escape
and he must not be permitted to do so." Control and order were
immediately reestablished by his presence.

At Shiloh, the same thing happened, only this time it was worse; the
whole Union Army was on the verge of rout. Grant, hobbling on crutches
from a recent leg injury, met the mob of panic-stricken stragglers as
he left the boat at Pittsburgh Landing. Calling on them to turn back,
he mounted and rode toward the battle, shouting encouragement and
giving orders to all he met. Confidence flowed from him back into an
already beaten Army and in this way a field near lost was soon
regained.

The last and best picture of Grant is on the evening after he had
taken his first beating from General Lee in the campaign against
Richmond. He was newly with the Army of the Potomac. His predecessors,
after being whipped by Lee, had invariably retreated to safe distance.
But this time as the defeated army took the road of retreat out of the
Wilderness, its columns got only as far as the Chancellorsville House
crossroad. There the soldiers saw a squat, bearded man, sitting
horseback, and drawing on a cigar. As the head of each regiment came
abreast him, he silently motioned it to take the right-hand fork--back
toward Lee's flank and deeper than ever into the Wilderness. That
night for the first time the Army sensed an electric change in the air
over Virginia. It had a man.

"I intend to fight it out on this line" is more revealing of the one
supreme quality which put the seal on all other of U. S. Grant's great
gifts for military leading than everything else that the historians
have written of him. He was the epitome of that spirit which moderns
call "seeing the show through." He was sensitive to a fault in his
early years, and carried to his tomb a dislike for military uniform,
caused by his being made the butt of ridicule the first time he ever
donned a soldier suit. As a junior lieutenant in the Mexican War, he
sensed no particular aptitude in himself. But he had participated in
every engagement possible to a member of his regiment, and had
executed every small duty to the hilt, with particular attention to
conserving the lives of his men. This was the school and the course
which later enabled him to march to Richmond, when men's lives had to
be spent for the good of the Nation. In more recent times, one of the
great statesmen and soldiers of the United States, Henry L. Stimson,
has added his witness to the value of this force in all enterprise: "I
know the withering effect of limited commitments and I know the
regenerative effect of full action." Though he was speaking
particularly of the larger affairs of war and nation policy, his words
apply with full weight to the personal life. The truth seen only
halfway is missed wholly; the thing done only halfway had best not be
attempted at all. Men can be fooled but they can't be fooled on this
score. They will know every time when the bolt falls short for lack of
a worthwhile effort. And when that happens, confidence in the leader
is corroded, even among those who themselves were unwilling to try.

There have been great and distinguished leaders in our military
services at all levels, who had no particular gifts for
administration, and little for organizing the detail of decisive
action either within battle or without. They excelled because of a
superior ability to utilize the brains and command the loyalty of
well-chosen subordinates. Their particular function was to judge the
mark according to their resources and audacity, and then to hold the
team steady until the mark was gained. So doing, they complemented the
power of the faithful lieutenants who might have put them in the shade
in any I. Q. test. Wrote Grant: "I never knew what to do with a paper
except put it in a side pocket or pass it to a clerk who understood it
better than I did." There was nothing unfair or irregular about this;
it was as it should be. All military achievement develops out of unity
of action. The laurel goes to the man whose powers can most surely be
directed toward the end purposes of organization. _The winning of
battles is the product of the winning of men._ That aptitude is not an
endowment of formal education, though the man who has led a football
team, a class, a fraternity or a debating society is the stronger for
the experience which he has gained. It is not uncustomary in those who
have excelled in scholarship to despise those who have excelled merely
in sympathetic understanding of the human race. But in the military
services, though there are niches for the pedant, character is at all
times at least as vital as intellect, and the main rewards go to him
who can make other men feel toughened as well as elevated.

    _Quiet resolution._

    _The hardihood to take risks._

    _The will to take full responsibility for decision._

    _The readiness to share its rewards with subordinates._

    _An equal readiness to take the blame when things go adversely._

    _The nerve to survive storm and disappointment and to face toward
    each new day with the scoresheet wiped clean, neither dwelling on
    one's successes nor accepting discouragement from one's failures._

In these things lie a great part of the essence of leadership, for
they are the constituents of that kind of moral courage which has
enabled one man to draw many others to him in any age.

It is good, also, to look the part, not only because of its effect on
others, but because from out of the effort made to _look it_, one may
in time come _to be it_. One of the kindliest and most penetrating
philosophers of our age, Abbe Ernest Dimnet, has assured us that this
is true. He says that by trying to look and act like a socially
distinguished person, one may in fact attain to the inner disposition
of a gentleman. That, almost needless to say, is the _real_ mark of
the officer who takes great pains about the manner of his dress and
address, for as Walt Whitman has said: "All changes of appearances
without a change in that which underlies appearance, are without
avail." All depends upon the spirit in which one makes the effort. By
his own account, U. S. Grant, as a West Point cadet, was more stirred
by the commanding appearance of General Winfield Scott than by any man
he had ever seen, including the President. He wrote that at that
moment there flashed across his mind the thought that some day he
would stand in Scott's place. Grant was unkempt of dress. His physical
endowments were such that he could never achieve the commanding air of
Scott, but he left us his witness that Scott's military bearing helped
kindle his own desire for command, even though he knew that he could
not be like Scott.

Much is said in favor of modesty as an asset in leadership. It is
remarked that the man who wishes to hold the respect of others will
mention himself not more frequently than a born aristocrat mentions
his ancestor. However, the point can be labored too hard. Some of the
ablest of the Nation's battlefield commanders have been anything but
shrinking violets; we have had now and then a hero who could boast
with such gusto that this very characteristic somehow endeared him to
his men. But that would be a dangerous tack for all save the most
exceptional individual. Instead of speaking of modesty as a charm that
will win all hearts, thereby risking that through excessive modesty a
man will become tiresome to others and rated as too timid for high
responsibility, it would be better to dwell upon the importance of
being natural, which means neither concealing nor making a vulgar
display of one's ideals and motives, but acting directly according to
their dictations.

This leads to another point. In several of the most celebrated
commentaries written by higher commanders on the nature of
generalship, the statement is made rather carelessly that to be
capable of great military leadership a man must be something of an
actor. If that were unqualifiedly true, then it would be a desirable
technique likewise in any junior officer that he too should learn how
to wear a false face, and play a part which cloaks his real self. The
hollowness of the idea is proved by the lives of such men as Robert E.
Lee, W. T. Sherman, George C. Marshall, Omar N. Bradley, Carl A.
Spaatz, William H. Simpson, Chester A. Nimitz, and W. S. Sims. As
commanders, they were all as natural as children, though some had
great natural reserve, and others were warmer and more outgiving. They
expressed themselves straightforwardly rather than by artful striving
for effect. There was no studied attempt to appear only in a certain
light. To use the common word for it, their people did not regard them
as "characters." This naturalness had much to do with their hold on
other men.

Such a result will always come. He who concentrates on the object at
hand has little need to worry about the impression he is making on
others. Even though they detect the chinks in the armor, they will
know that the armor will hold.

On the other hand, a sense of the dramatic values, coupled with the
intelligence to play upon them skillfully, is an invaluable quality in
any military leader. Though there was nothing of the "actor" in Grant,
he understood the value of pointing things up. _To put a bold or
inspiring emphasis where it belongs is not stagecraft, but an integral
part of the military fine art of communications._ System which is only
system is injurious to the mind and spirit of any normal person. One
can play a superior part well, and maintain prestige and dignity,
without being under the compulsion to think, speak and act in a
monotone. In fact, when any military commander becomes over-inhibited
along these lines because of the illusion that this is the way to
build a reputation for strength, he but doubles the necessity that his
subordinates will act at all times like human beings rather than
robots.

Coupled with self-control, recollection and thoughtfulness will carry
a man far. Men will warm toward a leader when they come to believe
that all the energy he stores up by living somewhat within himself is
at their service. But when they feel that this is not the case, and
that his reserve is simply the outward sign of a spiritual miserliness
and concentration on purely personal goals, no amount of restraint
will ever win their favor. This is as true of him who commands a whole
service as of the leader of a picket squad.

To speak of the importance of a sense of humor would be unavailing if
it were not that what cramps so many men isn't that they are by nature
humorless but that they are hesitant to exercise what humor they
possess. Within the military profession, it is as unwise as to let the
muscles go soft and to spare the mind the strain of original thinking.
Great humor has always been in the military tradition. The need of it
is nowhere more delicately expressed than in Kipling's lines:

    My son was killed while laughing at some jest,
               I would I knew
    What it was, and it might serve me in a time
               When jests are few.

Marcus Aurelius, Rome's soldier philosopher, spoke of his love for the
man who "could be humorous in an agreeable way." No reader of Grant's
_Memoirs_ (one of the few truly great autobiographies ever written by
a soldier) could fail to be impressed by his light touch. A delicate
sense of the incongruous seems to have pervaded him; he is at his
whimsical best when he sees himself in a ridiculous light. Lord
Kitchener, one of the grimmest warriors ever to serve the British
Empire, warmed to the man who made him the butt of a practical joke.
There is the unforgettable picture of Admiral Beatty at Jutland. The
_Indefatigable_ has disappeared beneath the waves. The _Queen Mary_
had exploded. The _Lion_ was in flames. Then word came that the
_Princess Royal_ was blown up. Said Beatty to his Flag Captain
"Chatfield, there seems to be something wrong with our ... ships
today. Turn two points nearer the enemy." Admiral Nimitz, surveying
the terrible landscape of the Kwajalein battlefield for the first
time, said gravely to his Staff: "It's the worst devastation I've ever
seen except for that last Texas picnic in Honolulu." There is a
characteristic anecdote of General Patton. He had just been worsted by
higher headquarters in an argument over strategy. So he sat talking to
his own Staff about it, his dog curled up beside him. Suddenly he said
to the animal: "The trouble with you, too, Willy, is that you don't
understand the big picture." General Eisenhower, probably more than
any other American commander, had the art of winning with his humor.
He would have qualified under Sydney Smith's definition: "The meaning
of an extraordinary man is that he is eight men in one man; that he
has as much wit as if he had no sense, and as much sense as if he had
no wit; that his conduct is as judicious as if he were the dullest of
human beings, and his imagination as brilliant as if he were
irretrievably ruined."

There is hardly a soldier, marine, or bluejacket who has been long in
battle but can tell some tale of an experience under fire when the
pressure became almost unbearable, and then was suddenly relieved
because somebody made a wisecrack or pulled something that was good
for a laugh. At Bastogne the American headquarters was being shelled
out of its position in the Belgian Barracks. The Commanding General
called in his Chief Signal Officer and asked when it would be
convenient to move. Said Lt. Col. Sid Davis, "Right now, while I've
got one line left and you can still give the order." When the garrison
was surrounded, and higher headquarters requested a description of the
situation, the young G-3 of the operation, Col. H. W. O. Kinnard,
radioed: "Think of a doughnut: we're the hole."

Who hasn't heard of the top kick who got his men forward by yelling:
"Come on you ----! Do you want to live forever?" Both the Army and the
Marine Corps claim him for their own, and it is possible that he was
twins.

If the American fighting man did not have an instinctive feeling for
the moral value of that kind of thing, the story would be long since
buried, for it is as ancient as the other tale which ends: "That was
no lady; that was my wife."




CHAPTER TEN

MAINSPRINGS OF LEADERSHIP


To what has been said, just a few things should be added so that the
problem of generating greater powers of leadership within the officer
corps may be seen in its true light.

The counselor says: "Be forthright! Be articulate! Be confident! Be
positive! Possess a commanding appearance!" The young man replies:
"All very good, so far as it goes. I will, if I can. But tell me, how
do I get that way?" He sees rightly enough the main point, that these
things are but derivatives of other inner qualities which must be
possessed, if the leader is to travel the decisive mile between
wavering capacity and resolute performance.

So the need is to get down to a few governing principles. Finding
them, we may be able to resolve finally any argument as to whether
leadership is a God-given power, or may be bestowed through earnest
military teaching.

Two great American commanders have spoken their thoughts on this
subject. The weight of their comment is enhanced by the conspicuous
success of both men in the field of moral leading.

Said Admiral Forrest P. Sherman, Chief of Naval Operations: "I concur
that we _can_ take average good men and, by proper training, develop
in them the essential initiative, confidence, and magnetism which are
necessary in leadership. I believe that these qualities are present in
the average man to a degree that he can be made a good leader if his
native qualities are properly developed; whether or not he becomes a
_great_ leader depends upon whether or not he possesses that _extra_
initiative, magnetism, moral courage, and force which makes the
difference between the average man and the above-average man."

Said Gen. C. B. Cates, Commandant of the Marine Corps: "Leadership is
intangible, hard to measure and difficult to describe. Its qualities
would seem to stem from many factors. But certainly they must include
a measure of inherent ability to control and direct, _self-confidence
based on expert knowledge_, initiative, loyalty, pride, _and a sense
of responsibility_. Inherent ability obviously cannot be instilled,
but that which is latent or dormant can be developed. Other
ingredients can be acquired. They are not easily taught or easily
learned. _But leaders can be and are made._ The average good man in
our service is and must be considered a potential leader."

There are common denominators in these two quotations which clearly
point in one main direction. When we accent the importance of extra
initiative, expert knowledge and a sense of responsibility, we are
saying in other words that out of unusual application to duty comes
the power to lead others in the doing of it.

The matter is as simple and as profound as that, and if we will
consider for but a moment, we will see why it could hardly be
otherwise.

No normal young man is likely to recognize in himself the qualities
which will persuade others to follow him. On the other hand, any man
who can carry out orders in a cheerful spirit, complete this work step
by step, use imagination in improving it, and then when the job is
done, can face toward his next duty with anticipation, need have no
reason to doubt his own capacity for leadership.

The psychologists assure us that there is a sound scientific basis for
what enlightened military trainers have long held to be true--that the
first-class follower and the leader are one and the same. They say
that this is literally true, and that their tests prove it so.

But it does not follow that every man can be taught to lead. In the
majority of men, success or failure is caused more by mental attitude
than by mental capacity. Many are unwilling to face the ordeal of
thinking for themselves and of accepting responsibility for others.
But the man determined to excel at his own work has already climbed
the first rung of the ladder; in that process he perforce learns to
think for himself while setting an example to those who are around
him. Out of application to work comes capacity for original and
creative progress. The personality characteristics, emotional balance,
etc., which give him excellence in those things which he does with his
own brain and hand will enable him to command the respect, and in
turn, the service of other men.

To this extent, certainly leadership can be learned! It is a matter of
mastering simple techniques which will give more effective expression
to the character and natural talents of the individual.

Said one of this Nation's great political leaders: "There is no more
valuable subordinate than the man to whom you can give a piece of work
and then forget it, in the confident expectation that the next time it
is brought to your attention it will come in the form of a report that
the thing has been done. When this self-reliant quality is joined to
executive power, loyalty and common sense, the result is a man whom
you can trust."

Yes, indeed, and that is as it should be. For while no man can be sure
of the possibilities of his influence over other men, every man knows
by his own conscience when he is putting forth his best effort, and
when he is slacking.

It is therefore not an arbitrary standard for measuring leadership
capacity in men which puts the ability to excel in assigned work above
everything else. The willingness and ability to strive, and to do, are
best judged by what we see of men in action. If they are indifferent
to assigned responsibilities, they are bad risks for larger ones, no
matter how charming their personalities or what the record says about
their prior experience and educational advantages. Either that
proposition is both reasonable and sound, or Arnold Bennett was
singing off key when he said: "I think fine this necessity for the
tense bracing of the will before anything worth doing can be done. It
is the chief thing that distinguishes me from the cat by the fire."

Love of work is the sheet-anchor of the man who truly aspires to
command responsibilities; that means love of it, not for the reward,
or for the skill exercised, but for the final and successful
accomplishment of the work itself. For out of interest in the job
comes thoroughness, and it is this quality above all which
distinguishes the willing spirit. The willingness to learn, to study
and to try harder are requisite to individual progress and the
improvement of opportunity--the process that Thomas Carlyle described
as the "unfolding of one's self." Thus it can be taken

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