It remains, first, to deal with the final link in the old system of defence. The statement that the great routes were left undefended will seem to be in opposition to a prevailing impression derived from the fact that frigates are constantly mentioned as being "on a cruise." The assumption is that they in effect patrolled the great routes. But this was not so, nor did they rove the sea at will. They constituted a definite and necessary part of the system. Though that system was founded on a distinction between defended terminals and undefended routes, which was a real strategical distinction, it was impossible to draw an actual line where the one sphere began and the other ended. Outside the regularly defended areas lay a region which, as the routes began to converge, was comparatively fertile. In this region enemies' cruisers and their larger privateers found the mean between risk and profit. Here too convoys, as they entered the zone, were in their greatest danger for fear of their escorts being overpowered by raiding squadrons. Consequently it was the practice, when the approach of convoys was expected, to throw forward from the defended area groups of powerful cruisers, and even battleship divisions, to meet them and reinforce their escorts. Outward-bound convoys had their escorts similarly strengthened till they were clear of the danger zone. The system was in regular use both for home and colonial areas. In no sense did it constitute a patrol of the routes. It was in practice and conception a system of outposts, which at seasons of special risk amounted to an extension of the defended areas combining with a reinforcement of the convoy escorts. Focal points of lesser importance, such as Capes Finisterre and St. Vincent, were similarly held by one or two powerful cruisers, and if necessary by a squadron.

As has been already explained, owing to the peculiar conditions of the sea and the common nature of maritime communications, these dispositions were adopted as well for attack as defence, and the fertile areas, for the defence of which a frigate captain was sent "on a cruise," were always liable to bring him rich reward. His mission of defence carried with it the best opportunities for attack.

In the full development of the system patrol lines did exist, but not for the great routes. They were established to link up adjacent defended areas and as a more scientific organisation of the cruiser outposts. In 1805 the Gibraltar and the home areas were thus connected by a patrol line which stretched from Cape St. Vincent through the Finisterre focal area to Cape Clear, with a branch extending to the strategical centre off Ushant. The new system was introduced at a time when we had reason to expect that the French and Spanish fleets were to be devoted entirely to operations in small raiding squadrons against our trade and colonies. Special provision was therefore necessary to locate any such squadrons that might elude the regular blockades, and to ensure that they should be adequately pursued. The new lines were in fact intelligence patrols primarily, though they were also regarded as the only means of protecting efficiently the southern trade-route where it was flanked by French and Spanish ports.[24]

[24] It should be said that Cornwallis did not regard this system as new except for the extension from Finisterre to St. Vincent, which Nelson advised. In acknowledging the order from Ushant he wrote, "The instructions ... are nearly the same as have generally been given. I can therefore only guess why a copy of the order was sent to me."—Admiralty, In-Letters, 129, 28 September 1805.

The whole system, it will be observed, though not conflicting with the main object of bringing the enemy's fleets to action, did entail an expenditure of force and deflecting preoccupations such as are unknown in land warfare. Large numbers of cruisers had to be employed otherwise than as the eyes of the battle-squadrons, while the coming and going of convoys produced periodical oscillations in the general distribution.

Embarrassing as was this commercial deflection in the old wars, an impression appears to prevail that in the future it must be much more serious. It is argued plausibly enough not only that our trade is far larger and richer than it was, but also that, owing to certain well-known economic changes, it is far more a matter of life and death to the nation than in the days when food and raw material did not constitute the bulk of our imports. In view of the new conditions it is held that we are more vulnerable through our trade now than formerly, and that, consequently, we must devote relatively more attention and force to its defence.

If this were true, it is obvious that war with a strong naval combination would present difficulties of the most formidable kind, greater indeed than we have ever experienced; for since with modern developments the demand for fleet cruisers is much greater than formerly, the power of devoting cruisers to trade defence is relatively much less.

It cannot be denied that at first sight the conclusion looks irreproachable. But on analysis it will be found to involve two assumptions, both of which are highly questionable. The first is, that the vulnerability of a sea Power through its maritime trade is as the volume of that trade. The second is, that the difficulty of defending sea-borne trade is also as its volume—that is to say, the larger the amount of the trade, the larger must be the force devoted to its protection. This idea indeed is carried so far, that we are frequently invited to fix the standard of our naval strength by comparing it with the proportion which the naval strength of other Powers bears to their sea-borne trade.

It is hoped that the foregoing sketch of our traditional system of trade defence will avail to raise a doubt whether either assumption can be accepted without very careful consideration. In the history of that system there is no indication that it was affected by the volume of the trade it was designed to protect. Nor has any one succeeded in showing that the pressure which an enemy could exert upon us through our commerce increased in effect with the volume of our seaborne trade. The broad indications indeed are the other way—that the greater the volume of our trade, the less was the effective impression which an enemy could make upon it, even when he devoted his whole naval energies to that end. It is not too much to say that in every case where he took this course his own trade dwindled to nothing, while ours continually increased.

It may be objected that this was because the only periods in which he devoted his main efforts to trade destruction were when we had dominated his navy, and being no longer able to dispute the command, he could do no more than interfere with its exercise. But this must always be so whether we have positively dominated his navy or not. If he tries to ignore our battle-fleets, and devotes himself to operations against trade, he cannot dispute the command. Whatever his strength, he must leave the command to us. He cannot do both systematically, and unless he attacks our trade systematically by sustained strategical operation, he cannot hope to make any real impression.

If, now, we take the two assumptions and test them by the application of elementary principles, both will appear theoretically unsound. Let us take first the relation of vulnerability to volume. Since the object of war is to force our will upon the enemy, the only way in which we can expect war on commerce to serve our end is to inflict so much damage upon it as will cause our enemy to prefer peace on our terms to a continuation of the struggle. The pressure on his trade must be insupportable, not merely annoying. It must seriously cripple his finance or seriously threaten to strangle his national life and activities. If his total trade be a hundred millions, and we succeed in destroying five, he will feel it no more than he does the ordinary fluctuations to which he is accustomed in time of peace. If, however, we can destroy fifty millions, his trade equilibrium will be overthrown, and the issue of the war will be powerfully affected. In other words, to affect the issue the impression made on trade must be a percentage or relative impression. The measure of a nation's vulnerability through its trade is the percentage of destruction that an enemy can effect.

Now, it is true that the amount of damage which a belligerent can inflict with a given force on an enemy's commerce will vary to some extent with its volume; for the greater the volume of commerce, the more fertile will be the undefended cruising grounds. But no matter how fertile such areas might be, the destructive power of a cruiser was always limited, and it must be still more limited in the future. It was limited by the fact that it was physically impossible to deal with more than a certain number of prizes in a certain time, and, for the reasons already indicated, this limit has suffered a very marked restriction. When this limit of capacity in a given force is passed, the volume of commerce will not affect the issue; and seeing how low that capacity must be in the future and how enormous is the volume of our trade, the limit of destructive power, at least as against ourselves, provided we have a reasonably well-organised system of defence, must be relatively low. It must, in fact, be passed at a percentage figure well within what we have easily supported in the past. There is reason, therefore, to believe that so far from the assumption in question being true, the effective vulnerability of sea-borne trade is not in direct but in inverse proportion to its volume. In other words, the greater the volume, the more difficult it is to make an effective percentage impression.

Similarly, it will be observed that the strain of trade defence was proportioned not to the volume of that trade, but to the number and exposure of its terminals and focal points. Whatever the volume of the trade these remained the same in number, and the amount of force required for their defence varied only with the strength that could readily be brought to bear against them. It varied, that is, with the distribution of the enemy's bases and the amount of his naval force. Thus in the war of 1812 with the United States, the West Indian and North American areas were much more exposed than they had been when we were at war with France alone and when American ports were not open to her as bases. They became vulnerable not only to the United States fleet, but also in a much higher degree to that of France, and consequently the force we found necessary to devote to trade defence in the North Atlantic was out of all proportion to the naval strength of the new belligerent. Our protective force had to be increased enormously, while the volume of our trade remained precisely the same.

This relation of trade defence to terminal and focal areas is of great importance, for it is in the increase of such areas in the Far East that lies the only radical change in the problem. The East Indian seas were always of course to some extent treated as a defended area, but the problem was simplified by the partial survival in those regions of the old method of defence. Till about the end of the seventeenth century long-range trade was expected to defend itself, at least outside the home area, and the retention of their armament by East Indiamen was the last survival of the practice. Beyond the important focal area of St. Helena they relied mainly on their own power of resistance or to such escort as could be provided by the relief ships of the East Indian station. As a rule, their escort proper went no farther outward-bound than St. Helena, whence it returned with the homeward-bound vessels that gathered there from India, China, and the South Sea whaling grounds. The idea of the system was to provide escort for that part of the great route which was exposed to attack from French or Spanish colonial bases on the African coasts and in the adjacent islands.

For obvious reasons this system would have to be reconsidered in the future. The expansion of the great European Powers have changed the conditions for which it sufficed, and in a war with any one of them the system of defended terminal and focal areas would require a great extension eastward, absorbing an appreciable section of our force, and entailing a comparatively weak prolongation of our chain of concentrations. Here, then, we must mark a point where trade defence has increased in difficulty, and there is one other.

Although minor hostile bases within a defended area have lost most of their menace to trade, they have acquired as torpedo bases a power of disturbing the defence itself. So long as such bases exist with a potent flotilla within them, it is obvious that the actual provision for defence cannot be so simple a matter as it was formerly. Other and more complex arrangements may have to be made. Still, the principle of defended areas seems to remain unshaken, and if it is to work with its old effectiveness, the means and the disposition for securing those areas will have to be adapted to the new tactical possibilities. The old strategical conditions, so far as can be seen, are unaltered except in so far as the reactions of modern material make them tell in favour of defence rather than of attack.

If we desire to formulate the principles on which this conclusion rests we shall find them in the two broad rules, firstly, that the vulnerability of trade is in inverse ratio to its volume, and secondly, that facility of attack means facility of defence. The latter, which was always true, receives special emphasis from modern developments. Facility of attack means the power of exercising control. For exercise of control we require not only numbers, but also speed and endurance, qualities which can only be obtained in two ways: it must be at the cost of armour and armament, or at the cost of increased size. By increasing size we at once lose numbers. If by sacrificing armament and armour we seek to maintain numbers and so facilitate attack, we at the same time facilitate defence. Vessels of low fighting power indeed cannot hope to operate in fertile areas without support to overpower the defence. Every powerful unit detached for such support sets free a unit on the other side, and when this process is once begun, there is no halting-place. Supporting units to be effective must multiply into squadrons, and sooner or later the inferior Power seeking to substitute commerce destruction for the clash of squadrons will have squadronal warfare thrust upon him, provided again the superior Power adopts a reasonably sound system of defence. It was always so, and, so far as it is possible to penetrate the mists which veil the future, it would seem that with higher mobility and better means of communication the squadronal stage must be reached long before any adequate percentage impression can have been made by the sporadic action of commerce destroyers. Ineffectual as such warfare has always been in the past, until a general command has been established, its prospects in the future, judged by the old established principles, are less promising than ever.

Finally, in approaching the problem of trade protection, and especially for the actual determination of the force and distribution it requires, there is a dominant limitation to be kept in mind. By no conceivable means is it possible to give trade absolute protection. We cannot make an omelette without breaking eggs. We cannot make war without losing ships. To aim at a standard of naval strength or a strategical distribution which would make our trade absolutely invulnerable is to march to economic ruin. It is to cripple our power of sustaining war to a successful issue, and to seek a position of maritime despotism which, even if it were attainable, would set every man's hand against us. All these evils would be upon us, and our goal would still be in the far distance. In 1870 the second naval Power in the world was at war with an enemy that could not be considered a naval Power at all, and yet she lost ships by capture. Never in the days of our most complete domination upon the seas was our trade invulnerable, and it never can be. To seek invulnerability is to fall into the strategical vice of trying to be superior everywhere, to forfeit the attainment of the essential for fear of risking the unessential, to base our plans on an assumption that war may be waged without loss, that it is, in short, something that it never has been and never can be. Such peace-bred dreams must be rigorously abjured. Our standard must be the mean of economic strength—the line which on the one hand will permit us to nourish our financial resources for the evil day, and on the other, when that day comes, will deny to the enemy the possibility of choking our financial vigour by sufficiently checking the flow of our trade.

III. ATTACK, DEFENCE, AND SUPPORT OF MILITARY EXPEDITIONS

The attack and defence of oversea expeditions are governed in a large measure by the principles of attack and defence of trade. In both cases it is a question of control of communications, and in a general way it may be said, if we control them for the one purpose, we control them for the other. But with combined expeditions freedom of passage is not the only consideration. The duties of the fleet do not end with the protection of the troops during transit, as in the case of convoys, unless indeed, as with convoys, the destination is a friendly country. In the normal case of a hostile destination, where resistance is to be expected from the commencement of the operations, the fleet is charged with further duties of a most exacting kind. They may be described generally as duties of support, and it is the intrusion of these duties which distinguish the naval arrangements for combined operations most sharply from those for the protection of trade. Except for this consideration there need be no difference in the method of defence. In each case the strength required would be measured by the dangers of interference in transit. But as it is, that standard will not serve for combined expeditions; for however small those risks, the protective arrangements must be sufficiently extensive to include arrangements for support.

Before dealing with this, the most complex aspect of the question, it will be well to dismiss attack. From the strategical point of view its principles differ not at all from those already laid down for active resistance of invasion. Whether the expedition that threatens us be small or of invasion strength, the cardinal rule has always been that the transports and not the escort must be the primary objective of the fleet. The escort, according to the old practice, must be turned or contained, but never treated as a primary objective unless both turning and containing prove to be impracticable. It is needless to repeat the words of the old masters in which this principle lies embalmed. It is seldom that we find a rule of naval strategy laid down in precise technical terms, but this one is an exception. In the old squadronal instructions, "The transports of the enemy are to be your principal object," became something like a common form.

Nor did this rule apply only to cases where the transports were protected by a mere escort. It held good even in the exceptional cases where the military force was accompanied or guarded by the whole available battle strength of the enemy. We have seen how in 1744 Norris was prepared to follow the French transports if necessary with his whole force, and how in 1798 Nelson organised his fleet in such a way as to contain rather than destroy the enemy's battle-squadron, so that he might provide for an overwhelming attack upon the transports.

Exceptions to this as to all strategical rules may be conceived. Conditions might exist in which, if the enemy's battle-fleet accompanied his transports, it would be worth our while, for ulterior objects of our own, to risk the escape of the transports in order to seize the opportunity of destroying the fleet. But even in such a case the distinction would be little more than academical; for our best chance of securing a decisive tactical advantage against the enemy's fleet would usually be to compel it to conform to our movements by threatening an attack on the transports. It is well known that it is in the embarrassment arising from the presence of transports that lies the special weakness of a fleet in charge of them.

There is, however, one condition which radically differentiates comparatively small expeditions from great invasions and that is the power of evasion. Our experience has proved beyond dispute that the navy alone cannot guarantee defence against such expeditions. It cannot be sure of preventing their sailing or of attacking them in transit, and this is especially the case where an open sea gives them a free choice of route, as in the case of the French expeditions against Ireland. It is for this reason that, although an adequate navy has always proved sufficient to prevent an invasion, for defence against expeditions it must be supplemented by a home army. To perfect our defence, or, in other words, our power of attack, such an army must be adequate to ensure that all expeditions small enough to evade the fleet shall do no effective harm when they land. If in numbers, training, organisation, and distribution it is adequate for this purpose, an enemy cannot hope to affect the issue of the war except by raising his expeditions to invasion strength, and so finding himself involved in a problem that no one has ever yet solved for an uncommanded sea.

Still, even for expeditions below invasion strength the navy will only regard the army as a second line, and its strategy must provide in the event of evasion for co-operation with that line. By means of a just distribution of its coastal flotilla it will provide for getting contact with the expedition at the earliest moment after its destination is declared. It will press the principle of making the army its objective to the utmost limit by the most powerful and energetic cruiser pursuit, and with wireless and the increased ratio of cruiser speed, such pursuit is far more formidable than it ever was. No expedition nowadays, however successful its evasion, can be guaranteed against naval interruption in the process of landing. Still less can it be guaranteed against naval interference in its rear or flanks while it is securing its front against the home army. It may seek by using large transports to reduce their number and secure higher speed, but while that will raise its chance of evasion, it will prolong the critical period of landing. If it seek by using smaller transports to quicken disembarkation, that will decrease its chances of evasion by lowering its speed and widening the sea area it will occupy in transit. All the modern developments in fact which make for defence in case of invasion over an uncommanded sea also go to facilitate timely contact with an expedition seeking to operate by evasion. Nor must it be forgotten, since the problem is a combined one, that the corresponding developments ashore tell with little less force in favour of the defending army. Such appear to be the broad principles which govern an enemy's attempts to act with combined expeditions in our own waters, where by hypothesis we are in sufficient naval strength to deny him permanent local command. We may now turn to the larger and more complex question of the conduct of such expeditions where the naval conditions are reversed.

By the conduct, be it remembered, we mean not only their defence but also their support, and for this reason the starting-point of our inquiry is to be found, as above indicated, in the contrast of combined expeditions with convoys. A convoy consists of two elements—a fleet of merchantmen and an escort. But a combined expedition does not consist simply of an army and a squadron. It is an organism at once more complex and more homogeneous. Its constitution is fourfold. There is, firstly, the army; secondly, the transports and landing flotilla—that is, the flotilla of flat-boats and steamboats for towing them, all of which may be carried in the transports or accompany them; thirdly, the "Squadron in charge of transports," as it came to be called, which includes the escort proper and the supporting flotilla of lighter craft for inshore work; and lastly, the "Covering squadron."

Such at least is a combined expedition in logical analysis. But so essentially is it a single organism, that in practice these various elements can seldom be kept sharply distinct. They may be interwoven in the most intricate manner. Indeed to a greater or less extent each will always have to discharge some of the functions of the others. Thus the covering squadron may not only be indistinguishable from the escort and support, but it will often provide the greater part of the landing flotilla and even a portion of the landing force. Similarly, the escort may also serve as transport, and provide in part not only the supporting force, but also the landing flotilla. The fourfold constitution is therefore in a great measure theoretical. Still its use is not merely that it serves to define the varied functions which the fleet will have to discharge. As we proceed it will be seen to have a practical strategical value.

From a naval point of view it is the covering squadron which calls first for consideration, because of the emphasis with which its necessity marks not only the distinction between the conduct of combined expeditions and the conduct of commercial convoys, but also the fact that such expeditions are actually a combined force, and not merely an army escorted by a fleet.

In our system of commerce protection the covering squadron had no place. The battle-fleet, as we have seen, was employed in holding definite terminal areas, and had no organic connection with the convoys. The convoys had no further protection than their own escort and the reinforcements that met them as they approached the terminal areas. But where a convoy of transports forming part of a combined expedition was destined for an enemy's country and would have to overcome resistance by true combined operations, a covering battle-squadron was always provided. In the case of distant objectives it might be that the covering squadron was not attached till the whole expedition assembled in the theatre of operations; during transit to that theatre the transports might have commerce protection escort only. But once the operations began from the point of concentration, a covering squadron was always in touch.

It was only where the destination of the troops was a friendly country, and the line of passage was well protected by our permanent blockades, that a covering squadron could be dispensed with altogether. Thus our various expeditions for the assistance of Portugal were treated exactly like commercial convoys, but in such cases as Wolfe's expedition to Quebec or Amherst's to Louisburg, or indeed any of those which were continually launched against the West Indies, a battle-squadron was always provided as an integral part in the theatre of operations. Our arrangements in the Crimean War illustrate the point exactly. Our troops were sent out at first to land at Gallipoli in a friendly territory, and to act within that territory as an army of observation. It was not a true combined expedition, and the transports were given no covering squadron. Their passage was sufficiently covered by our Channel and Mediterranean fleets occupying the exits of the Baltic and the Black Sea. But so soon as the original war plan proved ineffective and combined offensive operations against Sebastopol were decided on, the Mediterranean fleet lost its independent character, and thenceforth its paramount function was to furnish a covering squadron in touch with the troops.

Seeing how important are the support duties of such a force, the term "Covering squadron" may seem ill-chosen to describe it. But it is adopted for two reasons. In the first place, it was the one employed officially in our service on the last mentioned occasion which was our last great combined expedition. In preparing the descent on the Crimea, Sir Edmund Lyons, who was acting as Chief of the Staff to Sir James Dundas, and had charge of the combined operations, organised the fleet into a "Covering squadron" and a "Squadron in charge of transports." In the second place, the designation serves to emphasise what is its main and primary function. For important as it is to keep in mind its support duties, they must not be permitted to overshadow the fact that its paramount function is to prevent interference with the actual combined operations—that is, the landing, support, and supply of the army. Thus in 1705, when Shovel and Peterborough were operating against Barcelona, Shovel was covering the amphibious siege from the French squadron in Toulon. Peterborough required the assistance of the marines ashore to execute a coup de main, and Shovel only consented to land them on the express understanding that the moment his cruisers passed the signal that the Toulon squadron was putting to sea, they would have to be recalled to the fleet no matter what the state of the land operations. And to this Peterborough agreed. The principle involved, it will be seen, is precisely that which Lyons's term "Covering squadron" embodies.

To quote anything that happened in the Crimean War as a precedent without such traditional support will scarcely appear convincing. In our British way we have fostered a legend that so far as organisation and staff work were concerned that war was nothing but a collection of deterrent examples. But in truth as a combined operation its opening movement both in conception and organisation was perhaps the most daring, brilliant, and successful thing of the kind we ever did. Designed as the expedition was to assist an ally in his own country, it was suddenly called upon without any previous preparation to undertake a combined operation of the most difficult kind against the territory of a well-warned enemy. It involved a landing late in the year on an open and stormy coast within striking distance of a naval fortress which contained an army of unknown strength, and a fleet not much inferior in battle power and undefeated. It was an operation comparable to the capture of Louisburg and the landing of the Japanese in the Liaotung Peninsula, but the conditions were far more difficult. Both those operations had been rehearsed a few years previously, and they had been long prepared on the fullest knowledge. In the Crimea everything was in the dark; even steam was an unproved element, and everything had to be improvised. The French had practically to demobilise their fleet to supply transport, and so hazardous did the enterprise appear, that they resisted its being undertaken with every military argument. We had in fact, besides all the other difficulties, to carry an unwilling ally upon our backs. Yet it was accomplished, and so far at least as the naval part was concerned, the methods which achieved success mark the culmination of all we had learnt in three centuries of rich experience.

The first of the lessons was that for operations in uncommanded or imperfectly commanded seas there was need of a covering squadron differentiated from the squadron in charge of transports. Its main function was to secure the necessary local command, whether for transit or for the actual operations. But as a rule transit was secured by our regular blockading squadrons, and generally the covering squadron only assembled in the theatre of operations. When therefore the theatre was within a defended terminal area, as in our descents upon the northern and Atlantic coasts of France, then the terminal defence squadron was usually also sufficient to protect the actual operations. It thus formed automatically the covering squadron, and either continued its blockade, or, as in the case of our attack on St. Malo in 1758, took up a position between the enemy's squadron and the expedition's line of operation. If, however, the theatre of operation was not within a terminal area, or lay within a distant one that was weakly held, the expedition was given its own covering squadron, in which the local squadron was more or less completely merged. Whatever, in fact, was necessary to secure the local control was done, though, as we have seen, and must presently consider more fully, this necessity was not always the standard by which the strength of the covering squadron was measured.

The strength of the covering squadron being determined, the next question is the position or "tract" which it should occupy. Like most other strategical problems, it is "an option of difficulties." In so far as the squadron is designed for support—that is, support from its men, boats, and guns—it will be desirable to station it as near as possible to the objective; but as a covering squadron, with the duty of preventing the intrusion of an enemy's force, it should be as far away as possible, so as to engage such a force at the earliest possible moment of its attempt to interfere. There is also the paramount necessity that its position must be such that favourable contact with the enemy is certain if he tries to interrupt. Usually such certainty is only to be found either in touch with the enemy's naval base or in touch with your own landing force. Where the objective is the local naval base of the enemy these two points, of course, tend to be identical strategically, and the position of the covering squadron becomes a tactical rather than a strategical question. But the vital principle of an independent existence holds good, and no matter how great the necessity of support, the covering squadron should never be so deeply engaged with the landing force as to be unable to disentangle itself for action as a purely naval unit in time to discharge its naval function. In other words, it must always be able to act in the same way as a free field army covering a siege.

Where the objective of the expedition is not the local naval base, the choice of a position for the covering squadron will turn mainly on the amount of support which the army is likely to require. If it cannot act by surprise, and serious military resistance is consequently to be expected, or where the coast defences are too strong for the transport squadron to overpower, then the scale will incline to a position close to the army, though the extent to which, under modern conditions, ships at sea can usefully perform the delicate operation of supporting an infantry attack with gun fire, except by enfilading the enemy's position, remains to be proved. A similar choice will be indicated where strong support of men and boats is required, as when a sufficiency of flat-boats and steam towage cannot be provided by the transports and their attendant squadron; or again where the locality is such that amphibious operations beyond the actual landing are likely to be called for, and the assistance of a large number of boats and seamen acting with the army is necessary to give it the amphibious tactical mobility which it would otherwise lack. Such cases occurred at Quebec in 1759, where Saunders took his covering battle-squadron right up the St. Lawrence, although its covering functions could have been discharged even better by a position several hundreds of miles away from the objective; and again in 1800 at Alexandria, where Lord Keith ran the extremest hazard to his covering functions in order to undertake the supply of General Abercromby's army by inland waters and give him the mobility he required.

If, on the other hand, the transport squadron is able to furnish all the support necessary, the covering squadron will take station as close as possible to the enemy's naval base, and there it will operate according to the ordinary laws of blockade. If nothing is desired but to prevent interference, its guard will take the form of a close blockade. But if there be a subsidiary purpose of using the expedition as a means of forcing the enemy to sea, the open form will be employed; as, for instance, in Anson's case above cited, when he covered the St. Malo expedition not by closely blockading Brest, but by taking a position to the eastward at the Isle de Batz.

In the Japanese operations against Manchuria and the Kuantung Peninsula these old principles displayed themselves in undiminished vitality. In the surprise descents against Seoul and at Takusan the work of support was left entirely with the transport squadron, while Admiral Togo took up a covering position far away at Port Arthur. The two elements of the fleet were kept separate all through. But in the operations for the isolation and subsequent siege of Port Arthur they were so closely united as to appear frequently indistinguishable. Still, so far as the closeness of the landing place to the objective permitted, the two acted independently. For the actual landing of the Second Army the boats of the covering squadron were used, but it remained a live naval unit all through, and was never organically mingled with the transport squadron. Its operations throughout were, so far as modern conditions permit, on the lines of a close blockade. To prevent interference was its paramount function, undisturbed, so far as we are able to judge, by any subsidiary purpose of bringing the enemy to decisive action.

All through the operations, however, there was a new influence which tended to confuse the precision of the old methods. Needless to say it was the torpedo and the mine. Their deflective pressure was curious and interesting. In our own operations against Sebastopol, to which the Port Arthur case is most closely comparable, the old rules still held good. On the traditional principle, dating from Drake's attack on San Domingo in 1585, a landing place was chosen which gave the mean between facility for a coup de main and freedom from opposition; that is, it was chosen at the nearest practicable point to the objective which was undefended by batteries and out of reach of the enemy's main army.

In the handling of the covering squadron Admiral Dundas, the Commander-in-Chief, gave it its dual function. After explaining the constitution of the transport squadron he says, "The remainder of my force ... will act as a covering squadron, and where practicable assist in the general disembarkation." With these two objects in mind he took a station near enough to the landing place to support the army with his guns if it were opposed, but still in sight of his cruisers before Sebastopol, and at such a distance that at the first sign of the Russians moving he would have time to get before the port and engage them before they could get well to sea; that is, he took a position as near to the army as was compatible with preventing interference, or, it may be said, his position was as near to the enemy's base as was compatible with supporting the landing. From either aspect in fact the position was the same, and its choice presented no complexity owing mainly to the fact that for the first time steam simplified the factors of time and distance.

In the Japanese case the application of these principles was not so easy. In selecting the nearest undefended point for a landing, it was not only batteries, or even the army in Port Arthur, or the troops dispersed in the Liaotung Peninsula that had to be considered, but rather, as must always be the case in the future, mines and mobile torpedo defence. The point they chose was the nearest practicable bay that was unmined. It was not strictly out of mobile defence range, but it so happened that it lay behind islands which lent themselves to the creation of fixed defences, and thus it fulfilled all the recognised conditions. But in so far as the defences could be turned by the Russian fleet a covering squadron was necessary, and the difficulty of choosing a position for it was complicated by the fact that the objective of the combined operations was not merely Port Arthur itself, but also the squadron it contained. It was necessary, therefore, not only to hold off that squadron, but to prevent its escape. This indicated a close blockade. But for close blockade a position out of night torpedo range is necessary, and the nearest point where such a position could be secured was behind the defences that covered the disembarkation. Consequently, in spite of what the strategical conditions dictated, the covering squadron was more or less continuously forced back upon the army and its supporting force, even when the support of the battle-squadron was no longer required.

In the conditions that existed nothing was lost. For the lines of the Japanese fixed defences were so near to the enemy's base, that by mining the entrance of the port Admiral Togo ensured that the enemy's exit would be slow enough for him to be certain of getting contact from his defended anchorage before the Russians could get far to sea. What would happen in a case when no such position could be secured is another matter. The landing place and supply base of the army must be secured against torpedo attack, and the principle of concentration of effort would suggest that the means of defence should not be attenuated by providing the covering squadron with a defended anchorage elsewhere. Thus it would appear that unless the geographical conditions permit the covering squadron to use one of its own national bases, the drift of recent developments will be to force it back on the army, and thus tend to confuse its duties with those of the transport squadron. Hence the increased importance of keeping clear the difference in function between the two squadrons.

To emphasise the principle of the covering squadron, these two cases may be contrasted with the Lissa episode at the end of the Austro-Italian War of 1866. In that case it was entirely neglected, with disastrous results. The Austrian admiral, Tegethoff, with an inferior fleet had by higher order been acting throughout on the defensive, and was still in Pola waiting for a chance of a counter-stroke. Persano with the superior Italian fleet was at Ancona, where he practically dominated the Adriatic. In July the Italians, owing to the failure of the army, were confronted with the prospect of being forced to make peace on unfavourable terms. To improve the position Persano was ordered to take possession of the Austrian island of Lissa. Without any attempt to organise his fleet on the orthodox British principle he proceeded to conduct the operation with his entire force. Practically the whole of it became involved in amphibious work, and as soon as Persano was thus committed, Tegethoff put to sea and surprised him. Persano was unable to disentangle a sufficient force in time to meet the attack, and having no compact squadron fit for independent naval action, he was decisively defeated by the inferior enemy. According to British practice, it was clearly a case where, if the operation were to be undertaken at all, an independent covering squadron should have been told off either to hold Tegethoff in Pola or to bring him to timely action, according to whether the island or the Austrian fleet was the primary objective. The reason it was not done may be that Persano was not given a proper landing force, and he seems to have considered that the whole strength of his fleet was needed for the successful seizure of the objective. If so, it is only one more proof of the rule that no matter what fleet support the landing operations may require, it should never be given in an imperfectly commanded sea to an extent which will deny the possibility of a covering squadron being left free for independent naval action.

The length to which the supporting functions of the fleet may be carried will always be a delicate question. The suggestion that its strength must be affected by the need of the army for the men of the fleet or its boats, which imply its men as well, will appear heretical. A battle-squadron, we say, is intended to deal with the enemy's battle-squadron and its men to fight the ships, and the mind revolts at the idea of the strength of a squadron being fixed by any other standard. Theoretically nothing can seem more true, but it is an idea of peace and the study. The atmosphere of war engendered a wider and more practical view. The men of the old wars knew that when a squadron is attached to a combined expedition it is something different from a purely naval unit. They knew, moreover, that an army acting oversea against hostile territory is an incomplete organism incapable of striking its blow in the most effective manner without the assistance of the men of the fleet. It was the office, then, of the naval portion of the force not only to defend the striking part of the organism, but to complete its deficiencies and lend it the power to strike. Alone and unaided the army cannot depend on getting itself ashore, it cannot supply itself, it cannot secure its retreat, nor can it avail itself of the highest advantages of an amphibious force, the sudden shift of base or line of operation. These things the fleet must do for it, and it must do them with its men.[25]

[25] The Japanese in the late war attempted to do this work by means of a highly organized Army Disembarkation Staff, but except in perfect conditions of weather and locality it does not seem to have worked well, and in almost all cases the assistance of the navy was called in.

The authority for this view is abundant. In 1800, for instance, when General Maitland was charged with an expedition against Belleisle, he was invited to state what naval force he would require. He found it difficult to fix with precision. "Speaking loosely, however," he wrote, "three or four sail of the line and four or five active frigates appear to me to be properly adequate to the proposed service. The frigates to blockade." (Meaning, of course, to blockade the objective and prevent reinforcements reaching it from the mainland, always one of the supporting functions of the squadron attached to the transports.) "The line-of-battle ships," he adds, "to furnish us with the number of men necessary for land operations." In this case our permanent blockading squadrons supplied the cover, and what Maitland meant was that the battleships he asked for were to be added to the transport squadron not as being required for escort, but for support. St. Vincent, who was then First Lord, not only endorsed his request, but gave him for disembarkation work one more ship-of-the-line than he had asked for. At this time our general command of the sea had been very fully secured, and we had plenty of naval force to spare for its exercise. It will be well to compare it with a case in which the circumstances were different.

When in 1795 the expedition under Admiral Christian and General Abercromby was being prepared for the West Indies, the admiral in concert with Jervis drew up a memorandum as to the naval force required.[26] The force he asked for was considerable. Both he and Jervis considered that the escort and local cover must be very strong, because it was impossible to count on closing either Brest or Toulon effectually by blockade. But this was not the only reason. The plan of operations involved three distinct landings, and each would require at least two of the line, and perhaps three, "not only as protection, but as the means by which flat-boats must be manned, cannon landed, and the other necessary services of fatigue executed." Christian also required the necessary frigates and three or four brigs "to cover [that is, support] the operations of the smaller vessels [that is, the landing flotillas doing inshore work]." The main attack would require at least four of the line and seven frigates, with brigs and schooners in proportion. In all he considered, the ships-of-the-line [the frigates being "otherwise employed"] would have to provide landing parties to the number of 2000 men "for the flat-boats, landing and moving guns, water, and provisions," and this would be their daily task. The military force these landing parties were to serve amounted to about 18,000 men.

[26] Sir Hugh Cloberry Christian was an officer of high distinction with a remarkable record of battle service. He had been serving as Howe's second captain just before his promotion to flag rank in 1795, and died as Commander-in-Chief at the Cape at the early age of fifty-one.

Lord Barham, it must be said, who as Sir Charles Middleton was then First Sea Lord, objected to the requirements as excessive, particularly in the demand for a strong escort, as he considered that the transit could be safeguarded by special vigilance on the part of the permanent blockading squadrons. The need for large shore parties he seems to have ignored. His opinion, however, is not quite convincing, for from the first he had taken up an antagonistic attitude to the whole idea of the expedition. He regarded the policy which dictated it as radically unsound, and was naturally anxious to restrict the force that was to be spent upon it. His opposition was based on the broad and far-sighted principles that were characteristic of his strategy. He believed that in view of the threatening attitude of Spain the right course was to husband the navy so as to bring it up to a two-Power standard for the coming struggle, and to keep it concentrated for decisive naval action the moment Spain showed her hand. In short, he stoutly condemned a policy which entailed a serious dissipation of naval force for a secondary object before a working command of the sea had been secured. It was, in fact, the arrangements for this expedition which forced him to resign before the preparations were complete. But it is to be observed that his objections to the plan were really due, not to the principle of its organisation, but to our having insufficient force to give it adequate naval support without prejudicing the higher consideration of our whole position at sea.[27]

[27] On analogous grounds almost every military critic has condemned the policy of this disastrous expedition as involving a dispersal of our slender military force at a time when everything called for its concentration in Europe.

It is obvious that the foregoing considerations, beyond the strategical reactions already noted, will have another of the first importance, in that they must influence the choice of a landing place. The interest of the army will always be to fix it as near to the objective as is compatible with an unopposed landing. The ideal was one night's march, but this could rarely be attained except in the case of very small expeditions, which could be landed rapidly at the close of day and advance in the dark. In larger expeditions, the aim was to effect the landing far enough from the objective to prevent the garrison of the place or the enemy's local forces offering opposition before a footing was secured. The tendency of the navy will usually be in the opposite direction; for normally the further they can land the army away from the enemy's strength, the surer are they of being able to protect it against naval interference. Their ideal will be a place far enough away to be out of torpedo range, and to enable them to work the covering and the transport squadron in sound strategical independence.

To reduce these divergencies to a mean of efficiency some kind of joint Staff is necessary, and to ensure its smooth working it is no less desirable to ascertain, so far as possible, the principles and method on which it should proceed. In the best recent precedents the process has been for the Army Staff to present the limits of coast-line within which the landing must take place for the operation to have the desired effect, and to indicate the known practicable landing points in the order they would prefer them. It will then be for the Naval Staff to say how nearly in accordance with the views of the army they are prepared to act. Their decision will turn on the difficulties of protection and the essentials of a landing place from the point of view of weather, currents, beach and the like, and also in a secondary measure upon the extent to which the conformation of the coast will permit of tactical support by gun-fire and feints. If the Naval Staff are unwilling to agree to the point or points their colleagues most desire, a question of balance of risk is set up, which the higher Joint Staff must adjust. It will be the duty of the Naval Staff to set out frankly and clearly all the sea risks the proposal of the army entails, and if possible to suggest an alternative by which the risk of naval interference can be lessened without laying too heavy a burden on the army. Balancing these risks against those stated by the army, the superior Staff must decide which line is to be taken, and each service then will do its best to minimise the difficulties it has to face. Whether the superior Staff will incline to the naval or the military view will depend upon whether the greater danger likely to be incurred is from the sea or on land.

Where the naval conditions are fairly well known the line of operations can be fixed in this way with much precision. But if, as usually happens, the probable action of the enemy at sea cannot be divined with sufficient approximation, then assuming there is serious possibility of naval interference, the final choice within the limited area must be left to the admiral. The practice has been to give him instructions which define in order of merit the points the army desire, and direct him to select the one which in the circumstances, as he finds them, he considers within reasonable risk of war. Similarly, if the danger of naval interference be small and the local conditions ashore imperfectly known, the final choice will be with the general, subject only to the practicable possibilities of the landing place he would choose.

During the best period of our old wars there was seldom any difficulty in making things work smoothly on these lines. After the first inglorious failure at Rochefort in 1757 the practice was, where discretion of this kind had been allowed, for the two commanders-in-chief to make a joint coast-reconnaissance in the same boat and settle the matter amicably on the spot.

It was on these lines the conduct of our combined operations was always arranged thenceforth. Since the elder Pitt's time it has never been our practice to place combined expeditions under either a naval or a military commander-in-chief and allow him to decide between naval and military exigencies. The danger of possible friction between two commanders-in-chief came to be regarded as small compared with the danger of a single one making mistakes through unfamiliarity with the limitations of the service to which he does not belong.

The system has usually worked well even when questions arose which were essentially questions for a joint superior Staff. The exceptions indeed are very few. A fine example of how such difficulties can be settled, when the spirit is willing, occurred in the Crimea. The naval difficulties, as we have already seen, were as formidable as they could well be short of rendering the whole attempt madness. When it came to the point of execution a joint council of war was held, at which sat the allied Staffs of both services. So great were the differences of opinion between the French and British Generals, and so imperfectly was the terrain known, that they could not indicate a landing place with any precision. All the admirals knew was that it must be on an open coast, which they had not been able to reconnoitre, where the weather might at any time interrupt communications with the shore, and where they were liable to be attacked by a force which, until their own ships were cleared of troops, would not be inferior. All these objections they laid before the Council General. Lord Raglan then said the army now perfectly understood the risk, and was prepared to take it. Whereupon the allied admirals replied that they were ready to proceed and do their best to set the army ashore and support it at any point that should be chosen.

There remains a form of support which has not yet been considered, and that is diversionary movements or feints by the fleet to draw the enemy's attention away from the landing place. This will naturally be a function of the covering battle-squadron or its attendant cruisers and flotilla. The device appears in Drake's attack on San Domingo in 1585, an attack which may be regarded as our earliest precedent in modern times and as the pattern to which all subsequent operations of the kind conformed so far as circumstances allowed. In that case, while Drake landed the troops a night's march from the place, the bulk of the fleet moved before it, kept it in alarm all night, and at dawn made a demonstration with the boats of forcing a direct landing under cover of its guns. The result was the garrison moved out to meet the threat and were surprised in flank by the real landing force. Passing from this simple case to the most elaborate in our annals, we find Saunders doing the same thing at Quebec. In preparation for Wolfe's night landing he made a show of arrangements for a bombardment of Montcalm's lines below the city, and in the morning with the boats of the fleet began a demonstration of landing his marines. By this device he held Montcalm away from Wolfe's landing place till a secure footing had been obtained. Similar demonstrations had been made above the city, and the combined result was that Wolfe was able to penetrate the centre of the French position unopposed.

Such work belongs of course to the region of tactics rather than of strategy, but the device has been used with equal effect strategically. So great is the secrecy as well as the mobility of an amphibious force, that it is extremely difficult for an enemy to distinguish a real attack from a feint. Even at the last moment, when a landing is actually in progress, it is impossible for the defenders to tell that all the troops are being landed at the one point if a demonstration is going on elsewhere. At Quebec it was not till Montcalm was face to face with Wolfe that he knew he had to deal with the whole British force. Still less from a strategical point of view can we be certain whether a particular landing represents an advance guard or is a diversionary operation to mask a larger landing elsewhere. This is a special difficulty when in the case of large operations the landing army arrives in echelon like the Second Japanese army. In that instance the naval feint was used strategically, and apparently with conspicuous effect. The Russians were always apprehensive that the Japanese would strike for Newchuang at the head of the Gulf of Pe-chi-li, and for this reason General Stakelberg, who had command of the troops in the peninsula, was not permitted to concentrate for effective action in its southern part, where the Japanese had fixed their landing place. Admiral Togo, in spite of the strain on his fleet in effecting and securing the disembarkation of the army, detached a cruiser squadron to demonstrate in the Gulf. The precise effect of this feint upon the Russian Staff cannot be measured with certainty. All we know is that Stakelberg was held back from his concentration so long that he was unable to strike the Japanese army before it was complete for the field and able to deal him a staggering counter-stroke.

This power of disturbing the enemy with feints is of course inherent in the peculiar attributes of combined expeditions, in the facility with which their line of operation can be concealed or changed, and there seems no reason why in the future it should be less than in the past. Good railway connections in the theatre of the descent will of course diminish the effect of feints, but, on the other hand, the means of making them have increased. In mine-sweeping vessels, for instance, there is a new instrument which in the Russo-Japanese War proved capable of creating a very strong impression at small cost to the fleet. Should a flotilla of such craft appear at any practicable part of a threatened coast and make a show of clearing it, it will be almost a moral impossibility to ignore the demonstration.

On the whole then, assuming the old methods are followed, it would seem that with a reasonable naval preponderance the power of carrying out such operations over an uncommanded sea is not less than it has proved to be hitherto. The rapidity and precision of steam propulsion perhaps places that power higher than ever. It would at any rate be difficult to find in the past a parallel to the brilliant movement on Seoul with which the Japanese opened the war in 1904. It is true the Russians at the last moment decided for political reasons to permit the occupation to take place without opposition, but this was unknown to the Japanese, and their arrangements were made on the assumption that their enemy would use the formidable means at his disposal to obstruct the operation. The risk was accepted, skillfully measured, and adequately provided for on principles identical with those of the British tradition. But, on the other hand, there has been nothing to show that where the enemy has a working command of the sea the hazard of such enterprises has been reduced. Against an enemy controlling the line of passage in force, the well-tried methods of covering and protecting an oversea expedition will no more work to-day than they did in the past. Until his hold is broken by purely naval action, combined work remains beyond all legitimate risk of war.

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APPENDIX

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THE "GREEN PAMPHLET"

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WAR COURSE

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Strategical Terms and Definitions used in Lectures on Naval History

BY

JULIAN S. CORBETT, ESQ., L.L.M.

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NAVAL STRATEGY

Naval strategy does not exist as a separate branch of knowledge. It is only a section of a division of the art of war.

The study for officers is the art of war, specialising in Naval Strategy.

The true method of procedure then is to get hold of a general theory of war, and so ascertain the exact relations of Naval Strategy to the whole.

War is a form of political intercourse, a continuation of foreign politics which begins when force is introduced to attain our ends.

OBJECTS.

We seek our ends by directing force upon certain objects, which may be ulterior or immediate.

Immediate objects (also called "Primary") are the ends of particular operations or movements. But it must be remembered that every primary object has also its ulterior object; that is, every operation must be regarded, not only from the point of view of its special object, but also as a step to the end of the campaign or war.

Strategy is the art of directing force to the ends in view. Classified by the object it is Major Strategy, dealing with ulterior objects; Minor Strategy, with primary objects.

This also means that every operation of an army or fleet must be regarded in a double light, i.e., it must be planned and conducted in relation (1) to the general progress of the war; (2) to the object to which it is immediately directed.

Major Strategy (always regarding the ulterior object) has for its province the plan of the war, and includes: (1) Selection of the immediate or primary objects to be aimed at for attaining the ulterior object; (2) Selection of the force to be used, i.e., it determines the relative functions of the naval and military forces.

NOTE.—Major Strategy in its broadest sense has also to deal with the whole resources of the nation for war. It is a branch of statesmanship. It regards the Army and Navy as parts of one force, to be handled together; they are instruments of war. But it also has to keep in view constantly the politico-diplomatic position of the country (on which depends the effective action of the instrument), and its commercial and financial position (by which the energy for working the instrument is maintained). The friction of these two considerations is inherent in war, and we call it the deflection of strategy by politics. It is usually regarded as a disease. It is really a vital factor in every strategical problem. It may be taken as a general rule that no question of grand strategy can be decided apart from diplomacy, and vice versa. For a line of action or an object which is expedient from the point of view of strategy may be barred by diplomatic considerations, and vice versa. To decide a question of grand strategy without consideration of its diplomatic aspect, is to decide on half the factors only. Neither strategy or diplomacy has ever a clean slate. This interaction has to be accepted by commanding officers as part of the inevitable "friction of war." A good example is Pitt's refusal to send a fleet into the Baltic to assist Frederick the Great during the Seven Years War, for fear of compromising our relations with the Scandinavian Powers.

Minor Strategy has for its province the plans of operations. It deals with—

(1) The selection of the "objectives," that is, the particular forces of the enemy or the strategical points to be dealt with in order to secure the object of the particular operation. (2) The directing of the force assigned for the operation.

Minor Strategy may be of three kinds:—

(1) Naval, where the immediate object is to be attained by a fleet only. (2) Military, where the immediate object is to be attained by an army only. (3) Combined, where the immediate object is to be attained by army and navy together.

NOTE.—It will be seen that what is usually called Naval Strategy or Fleet Strategy, is only a sub-division of a division of strategy, and that, therefore, strategy cannot be studied from the point of view of naval operations only.

NOTE.—Naval Strategy, being only a part of General Strategy, is subject to the same friction as Major Strategy, though in a less degree. Individual commanders have often to take a decision independently of the central government, or headquarters; they should, therefore, always keep in mind the possible ulterior effects of any line of action they may take, endeavouring to be sure that what is strategically expedient is not diplomatically inexpedient.

EXAMPLE.—Boscawen's attack on De la Motte on the eve of the Seven Years War.

NATURE OF OBJECT

The solution of every strategical problem, whether of Major or Minor Strategy, depends primarily on the nature of the object in view.

All objects, whether ulterior or not, may be positive or negative.

A positive object is where we seek to assert or acquire something for ourselves.

A negative object is where we seek to deny the enemy something or prevent his gaining something.

Where the object is positive, Strategy is offensive.

Where the object is negative, Strategy is defensive.

EXAMPLE.—When Togo attacked Rojesvensky his primary object was offensive, i.e., to capture or destroy the Russian Fleet. His ulterior object was to maintain the defensive function which had been assigned to the Japanese Fleet.

NOTES.—This is a good example of true defensive; that is, Togo's operations, though drastically offensive in action, were all strictly within the strategical defensive sphere assigned to him.

The Offensive, being positive in its aim is naturally the more effective form of war (i.e., it leads more directly to a final decision), and, as a rule, should be adopted by the stronger Power.

The Defensive, being negative in its aim, is naturally the stronger form of war; i.e., it requires less force, and, as a rule, is adopted by the weaker Power.

NOTE.—The general truth of this proposition is not affected by apparent exceptions where the contrary appears to be true.

The Offensive must not be confused with the Initiative. It is possible to seize the Initiative, under certain conditions, by taking a defensive position from which the enemy is bound to dislodge us or abandon the operation.

In most cases where the weaker side successfully assumes the offensive, it is due to his doing so before the enemy's mobilization or concentration is complete, whereby the attacking force is able to deal in succession with locally inferior forces of the enemy.

The advantages of the Offensive are well known.

Its disadvantages are:—

(1) That it grows weaker as it advances, by prolonging its communications. (2) That it tends to operations on unfamiliar ground. (3) That it continually increases the difficulty of retreat.

The advantages of Defence are chiefly:—

(1) Proximity to base. (2) Familiar ground. (3) Facility for arranging surprise by counter attack.

NOTE.—In modern Naval warfare these advantages—that is, the advantages of fighting on your own ground—are specially high as giving greater facility for the use of mine and torpedo.

The disadvantages are mainly moral or when the enemy's objective or line of operations cannot be ascertained, but this disadvantage can be neutralised when it is possible to secure an interior position.

GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS OF THE DEFENSIVE.

True Defensive means waiting for a chance to strike.

NOTE.—When the Dutch burnt our ships at Chatham, we were not acting on the defensive, we had laid them up and were doing nothing at all.

The strength and the essence of the defensive is the counter-stroke.

A well designed defensive will always threaten or conceal an attack.

A general defensive policy may consist of a series of minor offensive operations.

The maxim is: If you are not relatively strong enough to assume the offensive, assume the defensive till you become so—

(1) Either by inducing the enemy to weaken himself by attacks or otherwise;

(2) Or by increasing your own strength, by developing new forces or securing allies.

Except as a preparation or a cover for offensive action the defensive is seldom or never of any use; for by the defensive alone we can never acquire anything, we can only prevent the enemy acquiring. But where we are too weak to assume the offensive it is often necessary to assume the defensive, and wait in expectation of time turning the scale in our favour and permitting us to accumulate strength relatively greater than the enemy's; we then pass to the offensive, for which our defensive has been a preparation.

As a cover or support for the offensive, the defensive will enable us to intensify the attack; for by assuming the defensive in one or more minor theatres of operation we can reduce our forces in those theatres to a minimum, and concentrate to a maximum for the offensive in the most important theatre.

OFFENSIVE OPERATIONS USED WITH A DEFENSIVE INTENTION

(A) Counter attacks. (B) Diversions.

(A) Counter attacks are those which are made upon an enemy who exposes himself anywhere in the theatre of his offensive operations. It is this form of attack which constitutes what Clausewitz calls the "surprise advantage of defence."

(B) Diversions are similar operations undertaken against an enemy outside the limit of his theatre of offensive operations.

Diversions are designed to confuse his strategy, to distract his attention, and to draw off his forces from his main attack. If well planned, they should divert a force greater than their own. They should, therefore, be small. The nearer they approach the importance of a real attack the less likely they are to divert a force greater than their own.

It is only their power of diverting or containing a larger force than their own that justifies the breach of the law of concentration which they involve.

This power depends mainly on suddenness and mobility, and these qualities are most highly developed in combined expeditions.

NOTE.—Diversions must be carefully distinguished from eccentric attacks. Eccentric attacks are true offensive movements. They have a positive object, i.e., they aim to acquire something from the enemy; whereas diversions have a negative object, i.e., they aim at preventing the enemy doing or acquiring something. Being in the category of the weaker form of war, eccentric attacks are usually made in greater force than diversions.

EXAMPLES.—Diversion.—Our raid on Washington in 1815. Landing force, about 4,000 men. Object, according to official instructions, "a diversion on the coasts of United States of America in favour of the army employed in the defence of Canada"; i.e., the intention was negative—preventative—defensive.

2. Eccentric Attack.—Operations against New Orleans in 1815. Intended force 15,000 to 20,000 men. Object, "to obtain command of embouchure of the Mississippi, and, secondly, to occupy some important and valuable possession, by the restoration of which the conditions of peace might be improved, &c."; i.e., the intention was positive—to acquire. Compare Rochefort Expedition (diversion) and Belleisle (eccentric attack) in the Seven Years War.

Note 2.—This distinction gives a threefold classification of combined expeditions, as used by Elizabethan strategists.

Raids = Diversions. Incursions = Eccentric attacks. Invasions = True direct offence.

Compare these with Sir John Ardagh's classification (Report of Royal Commission on Reserve Forces, 1904):—

"Raids," not exceeding 10,000 men. "Small expeditions," not exceeding 50,000 men. "Dangerous invasion," not exceeding 150,000 men.

NATURE OF ULTERIOR OBJECT

From the nature of the ulterior object we get an important classification of wars, according to whether such object is limited or unlimited.

(1) War with limited object ("limited war") is where we merely seek to take from the enemy some particular part of his possessions, or interests; e.g., Spanish-American War, where the object was the liberation of Cuba.

(2) War with an unlimited object is where we seek to overthrow the enemy completely, so that to save himself from destruction he must agree to do our will (become subservient); e.g., Franco-German War.

NOTE.—Ulterior objects are not necessarily the same in their nature as the immediate (primary or secondary) objects which lead up to them; e.g., ulterior objects may be offensive, while one or more of the immediate objects may be defensive, and vice versa.

EXAMPLE 1.—Japanese position in the late war. Ulterior object of the war (to drive Russians from Manchuria) was offensive (positive). Function or ulterior object of the fleet (to cover the invasion) was defensive (negative). Its primary object to effect this was to attack and destroy the Russian naval force. This was offensive (positive).

EXAMPLE 2.—In the Spanish-American War the ulterior object of the war was (for the Americans) to eject the Spanish Government from Cuba. This was offensive. The ulterior object of the fleet was to prevent the Spaniards sending reinforcements or interfering with the intended American invasion. This was defensive. The primary object of the fleet was to bring the Spanish Fleet to action. This was offensive.

SYSTEM OF OPERATIONS

Having determined the nature of the war by the nature of its object (i.e., whether it is offensive or defensive and whether it is limited or unlimited), strategy has to decide on the system of operations or "plan of the war."

This depends upon:— (1) The theatre of the war. (2) The means at our disposal.

1. Theatre of the War.—Usually defined as "all the territory upon which the hostile parties may assail each other." This is insufficient. For an island power the theatre of war will always include sea areas. Truer definition: "geographical areas within which lie the ulterior objects of the war and the subordinate objects that lead up to them."

A "theatre of war" may contain several "theatres of operations."

2. Theatre of Operations.—Is generally used of the operations of one belligerent only.

An "operation" is any considerable strategical undertaking.

A "theatre of operations" is usually defined as embracing all the territory we seek to take possession of or to defend.

A truer definition is, "the area, whether of sea or land or both, within which the enemy must be overpowered before we can secure the object of the particular operation."

Consequently, since the nature of the war varies with the object, it may be defensive in one theatre of operations and offensive in another.

Where the operations are defensive in character any special movement or movements may be offensive.

OBJECTIVE

An objective is "any point or force against which an offensive movement is directed." Thus where the object in any theatre of operation is to get command of a certain sea in which the enemy maintains a fleet, that fleet will usually be the objective.

LINES OF OPERATION

A line of operation is "the area of land or sea through which we operate from our base or starting point to reach our objectives."

Lines of operation may be exterior or interior. We are said to hold the interior lines when we hold such a position, in regard to a theatre of operations, that we can reach its chief objective points, or forces, more quickly than the enemy can move to their defence or assistance. Such a position is called an interior position. "Exterior Lines" and "Exterior Position" are the converse of these.

LINES OF COMMUNICATION

This expression is used of three different things:—

(1) Lines of supply, running from the base of operations to the point which the operating force has reached.

(2) Lines of lateral communication by which several forces engaged in one theatre of operations can communicate with each other and move to each other's support.

(3) Lines of retreat, which are lines of supply reversed, i.e., leading back to the base.

These three ideas are best described by the term "lines of passage and communication," which we had in use at the end of the eighteenth century.

Ashore, lines of passage and communication are roads, railways, waterways, &c.

At sea, they may be regarded as those waters over which passes the normal course of vessels proceeding from the base to the objective or the force to be supplied.

In Land Strategy the great majority of problems are problems of communication. Maritime Strategy has never been regarded as hinging on communications, but probably it does so even more than Land Strategy, as will appear from a consideration of maritime communications, and the extent to which they are the main preoccupation of Naval operations.

MARITIME COMMUNICATIONS

The various kinds of Maritime Communications for or against which a fleet may have to operate are:—

(1) Its own communications, or those of its adversary (which correspond to the communications of armies operating ashore). These tend to increase in importance strategically with the increasing hunger of modern fleets (for coal, ammunition, &c).

(2) The communications of an army operating from an advanced oversea base, that is communication between the advanced and the main base.

(3) Trade Routes, that is the communications upon which depend the national resources and the supply of the main bases, as well as the "lateral" or connecting communications between various parts of belligerents' possessions.

N.B.—Such "lines of passage and communication" are the preoccupation of Naval Strategy; that is to say, problems of Naval Strategy can be reduced to terms of "passage and communication" and this is probably the best method of solving them.

NAVAL STRATEGY CONSIDERED AS A QUESTION OF PASSAGE AND COMMUNICATION

By "Naval Strategy" we mean the art of conducting the operations of the Fleet. Such operations must always have for their object "passage and communication"; that is, the Fleet is mainly occupied in guarding our own communications and seizing those of the enemy.

PROOF I.—Deductive.—We say the aim of Naval Strategy is to get command of the sea. What does this mean? It is something quite different from the Military idea of occupying territory, for the sea cannot be the subject of political dominion or ownership. We cannot subsist upon it (like an army on conquered territory), nor can we exclude neutrals from it. Admiral Colomb's theory of "conquest of water territory," therefore, involves a false analogy, and is not safe as the basis of a strategical system. What then is the value of the sea in the political system of the world? Its value is as a means of communication between States and parts of States. Therefore the "command of the sea" means the control of communications in which the belligerents are adversely concerned.

COROLLARY.—The command of the sea can never be, like the conquest of territory, the ulterior object of a war, unless it be a purely maritime war, as were approximately our wars with the Dutch in the 17th century, but it may be a primary or immediate object, and even the ulterior object of particular operations.

PROOF II.—Inductive, from history or past experience.—History shows that the actual functions of the Fleet (except in purely maritime wars) have been threefold.

1. The prevention or securing of alliances (i.e., deterring or persuading neutrals as to participating in the war).

EXAMPLES.—The operations of Rooke in the first years of the War of the Spanish Succession, 1702-04, to secure the adhesion of Savoy and Portugal to the Grand Alliance. Operations of Nelson to maintain the alliance of the Kingdom of Naples.

In the first case there came a crisis when it was more important to demonstrate to Savoy and Portugal what they stood to lose by joining Louis XIV than to act immediately against the Toulon Fleet. In the second, the Neapolitan Alliance was essential to our operations in the Eastern Mediterranean; the destruction of the Toulon Fleet was not.

2. The protection or destruction of commerce.

3. The furtherance or hindrance of military operations ashore.

NOTE.—The above is the best working "Definition of Naval Strategy," as emphasising its intimate connection with diplomatic, financial, and military aspects of major strategy.

These functions may be discharged in two ways:—

(1) By direct territorial attacks, threatened or performed (bombardment, landing, raiding parties, &c).

(2) By getting command of the sea, i.e., establishing ourselves in such a position that we can control the maritime communications of all parties concerned, so that we can operate by sea against their territory, commerce, and allies, and they cannot operate against ours.

NOTE.—The power of the second method, by controlling communications, is out of all proportion to the first—direct attack. Indeed, the first can seldom be performed with any serious effect without the second. Thus, from this point of view also, it is clear that Naval Strategy is mainly a question of communications.

But not entirely. Circumstances have arisen when the Fleet must discharge part of its function by direct action before there is time to get general control of the communications. (That is, political and military considerations may deflect normal operation of Naval Strategy.)

EXAMPLE.—Rooke's capture of Gibraltar in 1704, in the face of the unshaken Toulon Fleet. Japanese invasion of Manchuria.

COMMAND OF THE SEA

Command of the sea exists only in a state of war. If we say we have command of the sea in time of peace it is a rhetorical expression meaning that we have (a) adequate Naval positions; (b) an adequate Fleet to secure the command when war breaks out.

VARIOUS CONDITIONS OF COMMAND

1. It may be (a) general; (b) local.

(a) General command is secured when the enemy is no longer able to act dangerously against our line of passage and communication or to defend his own, or (in other words) when he is no longer able to interfere seriously with our trade or our military or diplomatic operations.

This condition exists practically when the enemy is no longer able to send squadrons to sea.

NOTE.—Command of the sea does not mean that the enemy can do absolutely nothing, but that he cannot seriously interfere with the undertakings by which we seek to secure the object of the war, or to force our will upon him.

(b) Local command implies a state of things in which we are able to prevent the enemy from interfering with our passage and communication in one or more theatres of operation.

2. Both local and general command may be (a) temporary; (b) permanent.

(a) Temporary command is when we are able to prevent the enemy from interfering with our passage and communication in all or some theatres of operation during the period required for gaining the object in view (i.e., the object of a particular operation or of a particular campaign). This condition existed after Togo's first action.

(b) Permanent command is when time ceases to be a vital factor in the situation, i.e., when the possibility of the enemy's recovering his maritime position is too remote to be a practical consideration. This condition existed after Tsushima.

3. Command, whether general, local, or temporary, may be in three different states:—

(a) With us. (b) With the enemy. (c) In dispute.

If in dispute, it may be that:—

(1) We have preponderance. (2) Our enemy has preponderance. (3) Neither side preponderates.

COMMAND IN DISPUTE

The state of dispute is the most important for practical strategy, since it is the normal condition, at least in the early stages of the war, and frequently all through it.

The state of dispute continues till a final decision is obtained, i.e., till one side is no longer able to send a squadron to sea.

It is to the advantage of the preponderating Navy to end the state of dispute by seeking a decision. Hence the French tradition to avoid decisive actions as a rule when at war with England.

The truth of this appears from the fact that general command of the sea is not essential to all oversea operations.

In a state of dispute the preponderating Power may concentrate in one theatre of operations, and so secure the local or temporary command sufficient for obtaining the special object in view. The weaker Power may take advantage of such local concentration to operate safely elsewhere.

Rule 1. So long as a state of dispute can force the preponderating Power to concentrate, operating by evasion is possibly open to the weaker.

Rule 2. In a state of dispute although the weaker Power may not be able to obstruct the passage and communication of the stronger, it may be able to defend its own.

EXAMPLES.—This condition of dispute existed during the first three years of the Seven Years War, until Hawke and Boscawen obtained a decision by defeating Conflans and De la Cloue; also in the Great War up to Trafalgar.

SHOULD COMMAND OF THE SEA ALWAYS BE THE PRIMARY OBJECT?

When the preponderating Power fails or neglects to get command (i.e., leaves the general command in dispute), the disadvantage to him is not so much the danger to his own operations as the facility given to the enemy for carrying out counter operations elsewhere.

Under certain conditions, therefore, it may not be the primary function of the fleet to seek out the enemy's fleet and destroy it, because general command may be in dispute while local command may be with us, and political or military considerations may demand of us an operation, for which such local command is sufficient, and which cannot be delayed until we have obtained a complete decision.

From the above it will appear "command of the sea" is too loose an expression for strategical discussion. For practical purposes should be substituted "control of passage and communication."

The question then in the consideration of any proposed operation or line of operations will be, not "Have we the command of the sea?" but "Can we secure the necessary lines of communication from obstruction by the enemy?"

METHODS OF SECURING CONTROL

1. Permanent general control can only be secured by the practical annihilation of the enemy's fleet by successful actions.

2. Local and temporary control may be secured by:—

(a) A defensive action not necessarily entirely successful (containing).

(b) Forcing concentration on the enemy elsewhere (diversion).

(c) Superior concentration so as to render impotent the enemy's force available in the special theatre of operations (masking or containing).

BLOCKADE

Blockades are of two natures, according to the object review. The object may be:—

(d) Blockade.

i. Close blockade to prevent the enemy putting to sea. The object being usually to secure local or temporary control.

ii. Observation blockade, to force the enemy to put to sea by occupying the common lines of communications (see below). In this case you are seeking a decision as a step towards general control.

Both natures are operations upon the lines of passage and communication, but in case (1) the primary intention is defensive, to secure our own line; in case (2) the primary intention is offensive, to seize the enemy's line and compel him to expose himself in an attempt to recover it.

GENERAL RULES FOR CONDUCTING BLOCKADES

In case (1) (defensive intention) blockade should be as close as is compatible with security from torpedo attack.

In case (2) (offensive intention) it should be as distant as is compatible with bringing enemy to action if he comes out.

Examples:—Case (1): First stage of Togo's blockade of Port Arthur. Case (2): Nelson off Toulon. Confusion of the two: Sampson's attempt to close Santiago simultaneously with an attempt to force Cervera to sea.

THE PECULIARITY OF MARITIME COMMUNICATIONS

Since the whole idea of command of the sea and the whole theory of blockade rest on the control of communications, neither can be fully apprehended without a thorough understanding of the nature of maritime communications.

Ashore, the respective lines of communications of each belligerent tend to run more or less approximately in opposite directions, until they meet in the theatre of operations or the objective point.

At sea the reverse is the case; for in maritime warfare the great lines of communications of either belligerent tend to run approximately parallel, if, indeed, they are not identical.

Thus, in the case of a war with Germany, the object of which lay in the Eastern Mediterranean, or in America, or South Africa, our respective lines of communication would be identical.

This was also the case in all our imperial wars with France.

This peculiarity is the controlling influence of maritime warfare. Nearly all our current maxims of Naval strategy can be traced to the pressure it exerts on Naval thought.

It is at the root of the fundamental difference between Military and Naval strategy, and affords the explanation of much strategical error and confusion, which has arisen from applying the principles of land warfare to the sea without allowing for the antagonistic conditions of the communications and operations against them in each case.

On land the chief reason for not always striking the enemy's communications at once is that as a rule we cannot do so without exposing our own.

At sea, on the contrary, since the great lines are common to both, we cannot defend our own without striking at the enemy's.

Therefore, at sea, the obvious opening is to get your fleet into such a position that it controls the common lines, unless defeated or evaded.

EXAMPLE.—This was usually done in our old wars with France, by our getting a fleet off Brest before the French could sail.

Hence the maxim "that the proper place for our fleets is off the enemy's coast," "the enemy's coast is our true frontier," and the like.

But these maxims are not universally true, witness Togo's strategy against Rojesvensky, when he remained correctly upon his own coast.

Take again the maxim that the primary object of the fleet is to seek out the enemy's fleet and destroy it.

Here again Togo's practice was the reverse of the maxim.

The true maxim is "The primary object of the fleet is to secure communications, and if the enemy's fleet is in a position to render them unsafe it must be put out of action."

The enemy's fleet usually is in this position, but not always.

EXAMPLE.—Opening of War of Spanish Succession. The operations of 1702 were to secure some point (Cadiz, Gibraltar, or Ferrol) on the Spanish trade communications, the French lateral communications, and our own lines of passage to the Mediterranean, where was to be our chief theatre of operation. These last two lines were identical. 1703.—Chief operations had for their object to secure the alliance of Savoy, and particularly of Portugal, and with same object in view, Rooke's official instructions directed that the French fleet was to be ignored unless it threatened our communications.

RESULT.—By 1704 we had gained a Naval position from which France could not eject us, and she abandoned struggle for sea communications.

But nine times out of ten the maxim of seeking out the enemy's fleet, &c., is sound and applicable:—

(a) Because for us general permanent command is usually essential to ultimate success, and this cannot be obtained without destroying the enemy's fleet.

(b) Because usually the enemy's fleet opens with an attempt to control the common communications.

(c) Because usually the functions of the fleet are so complex (i.e., the calls upon it so numerous) that it will seek to strike a blow which solve all the difficulties; e.g., Sir Palmes Fairborne's solution of the problem in 1703 (England in the Mediterranean, Vol. II., p. 234).

Also it must be remembered that nine times out of ten the most effective way of "seeking out the enemy's fleet" (i.e., forcing an action on him) is to seize a position which controls communications vital to his plan of campaign.

This was what happened in 1704. Rooke was unable to seek out the Toulon fleet, but by seizing Gibraltar he made it come to him (not intentionally, but by the operation of inevitable strategical law).

Compare Togo's strategy and that of the Americans in 1898.

Practically all great Naval actions have been brought about in this way, that is they have been the outcome on an effort to clear essential communications from the enemy's fleet, e.g., Gravelines, La Hogue, Quiberon, Trafalgar, Tsushima.

Similarly the great actions of the old Dutch wars were brought about because our geographical position placed us astride the Dutch trade communications, and they were forced to seek a decision against our fleet.