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

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



CHAPTER SIX

CUSTOMS AND COURTESIES

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ANSWER MEANING: Senior in boat is:

"Aye aye" Commissioned officer

"No no" Warrant officer

"Hello" Enlisted man

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

"Third Fleet" Admiral commanding Third Fleet

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



CHAPTER SEVEN

KEEPING YOUR HOUSE IN ORDER

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



CHAPTER EIGHT

GETTING ALONG WITH PEOPLE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

3. To expect uniformity of opinions in the world.

4. To fail to make allowance for inexperience.

5. To endeavor to mold all dispositions alike.

6. Not to yield on unimportant trifles.

7. To look for perfection in our own actions.

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

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

10. To consider impossible what we cannot ourselves perform.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It suffices to say that when any officer has the inexcusable fault that he takes snap judgment on his own men, he will not be any different in his relations with all other people, and will stand in his own light for the duration of his career. Which leads to one other observation. When any man, bearing a bad efficiency report, comes to a new organization, it is a fact to be noted with mild interest, but without any prejudice whatever. Every new assignment means a clean slate, and there should be no hangover from what has happened, including the possible mistaken judgments of others. The system was never intended to give a dog a bad name. To be perpetually supervised, questioned and shadowed is to be doubted, and doubt destroys confidence and creates fear, slyness and discontent in the other individual. Every man is entitled to a fresh hold on security with his new superior. Any wise and experienced senior commander will tell you this, and will cite examples of men who came to him with a spotty record, who started nervously, began to pick up after realizing that they were not going to get another kick, and went on to become altogether superior. For any right-minded commander, it is far more gratifying to be able to salvage human material than to take over an organization that is sound from bottom to top.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



CHAPTER NINE

LEADERS AND LEADERSHIP

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Quiet resolution.

The hardihood to take risks.

The will to take full responsibility for decision.

The readiness to share its rewards with subordinates.

An equal readiness to take the blame when things go adversely.

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

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

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

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