“I don’t want to be a soldier, I don’t want to go to war; I just want to ’ang around the Piccadilly underground, livin’ off the earnin’s of a ’igh born lydeee ...”
So says a favorite barracks ballad originated by the British Tommy during some obscure period of his woes under “The Widow of Windsor.” For Tommy, though, this song was a wistful and witty jibe at his fate—it was in nowise a plaintive prayer for emancipation. Tommy was a proud soldier who inspired his countrymen with his heroism and dedication to his profession as a fighting man.
The American military man during World War II was also an inspired and dedicated fighting man. He had lived through the economic depression of the thirties which had left its scar, but these vicissitudes had also made him stronger. Then too, he was convinced that slavery awaited him and the millions of the Free World should he fail. The American fighting man never displayed more sheer patriotism than during this period, but he, also, sought humorous relief in mocking jibes at himself and his fellows. “Look at that damned flag-waver!” said he of the heroic comrade who assaulted a pillbox on Tarawa, or Saipan, or Bougainville, or Omaha Beach. The military patriot has ever been a man who enjoyed mocking his proudest qualities. He has not felt it necessary to explain to succeeding generations that his seeming disgust toward these qualities had been, in fact, not an insult, but rather a gruff and affectionate blessing bestowed upon his comrades whom he trusted as brothers.
Unfortunately his humor has been misunderstood by the youth to whom he is the unchallenged oracle. American youth has come to a point where many can turn, without loss of pride or prestige, from challenge which once affected the youth of another generation as the red cape affects the bull. “I’d rather be a live coward than a dead hero,” says many a young man today and receives appreciative smiles of agreement from his buddies to whom this is a perfectly logical and honorable declaration.
“Don’t ever volunteer for anything!” says the veteran to his young friend entering military service. He smiles inwardly as he says it, remembering the traditional tricks which caught him for extra duties on a weekend, but to the boy this is sage advice and he applies it throughout. “Watch out for the Brass ...” says the veteran.
The left-handed humor with which the fighting man of World War II entertained himself has become to a large extent a code of ethics to the youngster of today. “The Flag-Waver and the Volunteer are Suckers!”
Following World War II, the Armed Forces were “cleaned up.” Many returning servicemen felt that national ideals had been blatantly violated by a caste system wherein they had been humbled. Equality and human dignity had been sacrificed on what many considered the altar of personal ego. Some of these men were simple revenge-seekers, but most were sincere in believing that our military system was unnecessarily ancient and feudal. As a result of general civilian pressures brought on by all this, a new disciplinary system was introduced into the Armed Forces in 1951 which guaranteed the serviceman individual rights under the Constitution, while at the same time requiring of him servitude and subordination to appointed superiors. This was the Uniform Code of Military Justice. It superseded existing rules of government in the separate services and was placed under the supervision of civilian authority.
Along with this new system came a steady disintegration of military “iron discipline,” to be replaced by an incentive system borrowed from industry. Discipline and disciplinary measures were centered in an unspoken slogan which said, in effect, “comply or forego the reward.” “Crimes” as such continued to be punished, but military sins of omission or carelessness became more and more a subject for the fitness report and evaluation systems. Commanders became addicted to all forms of cajolery in keeping with the new slogan, and “co-operation” became the key-word, instead of “compliance.”
Rigidly enforced discipline has for centuries been accepted as the heart of military efficiency in situations of danger and duress. The laws of human nature refute generally any idea that masses of human beings can be influenced or cajoled into unified action involving the supreme sacrifice without discipline which conditions them to do so. Discipline eliminates choice.
Establishment of power and prestige among military leaders was a step toward establishment of discipline, and not an end in itself. Though the democratic mind finds it difficult to accept this, maintenance of military discipline demands a moratorium on equality. To the unaccustomed young military man, loss of equality is perhaps the most agonizing experience of his tenure, yet he readily accepts this in a civilian career, primarily because he regards himself as unregimented. He feels that he can tell his boss to “go to hell” if he so chooses, without fear of imprisonment or other direct punishment. The fact that he would probably lose his job for doing such a thing is the deterrent which provides a measure of industrial discipline. He is further cajoled into accepting industrial discipline by the hope of reward and advancement. He well knows that he can be replaced or passed over when openings occur in positions of responsibility if he fails to perform to the satisfaction of his superiors. Simply “keeping his nose clean” is not enough. He must strive to please his civilian superiors in industry. He is willing to comply with this necessity because he recognizes the fact that wealth and position are the keys to social prestige and continued improvements in personal comfort.
Industry’s system of discipline and motivation is relatively efficient, but industry will never be called upon to demand the supreme sacrifice from its voluntary subjects. Should General Motors declare total war upon the Ford Motor Company, complete with small arms, artillery and mortars, would this system hold the effort together even during the first attack? The comparison is obvious.
Our military system leans more and more toward accomplishment of its mission through purchased discipline in lieu of enforced discipline. Establishment of prizes and trophies for “exemplary” performance is becoming a fetish in military commands. The recent establishment of proficiency pay is yet another example of the “buying principle.” We have accepted inability or unwillingness to punish carelessness and lack of effort and thus raise our over-all efficiency to an acceptable standard.
“Iron discipline” in a military organization is equivalent to the case-hardened steel gears in a 10-ton truck. When power is applied to the gear train, each gear turns without slippage or loss of power. No gear can refuse to turn, because it is inescapably meshed with its fellows. The engineer could never reconcile replacement of the gears in that truck with belts and friction-pulleys because the load-carrying capability would then be greatly reduced. Though the truck might still carry a light load along a level highway without difficulty, if it attempted to carry a heavy load up a sharp incline, the belts and pulleys would smoke and burn, and applied power would be lost. The entire power-transfer system might break and fly to pieces, leaving the truck helpless to move, much less able to transport anything.
It is reasonable to assert that our Armed Forces have, for several years now, been carrying a light load along a level highway. It is also reasonable to evaluate our present disciplinary system as a series of belts and friction-pulleys in comparison with the disciplinary system of tradition. The gears have been removed.
By what line of reasoning have we cancelled as criteria our experience throughout history, from which evolved a military system which achieved success? Is it progress, or decay?
In tracing disciplinary activity in our Armed Forces today, we see that the following rules are imposed upon those responsible for maintaining discipline and efficiency:
1. None shall punish but the commanding officer.
2. Punishments awarded by the commanding officer shall be limited to:
(a) Reprimand
(b) Loss of privileges for a period not to exceed two consecutive weeks; or
(c) Restriction to specified limits for a period not to exceed two consecutive weeks; or
(d) Extra duties for a period not to exceed two consecutive weeks, holidays included, at the rate of two hours per day; or
(e) Reduction to the next inferior grade if the grade held is one which falls within the promotion authority of the officer imposing punishment.
3. Only one of the above punishments may be imposed for an offense, except that reprimand may be added to any punishment.
4. “Cruel and unusual” punishment is prohibited.
5. Each punishment awarded must be shown in the service record of the punished.
Although the Uniform Code of Military Justice makes punishable every conceivable offense, down to and including “appearing in an unclean uniform,” we are loath to offer such for formal punishment. These offenses reflect a common fault of human nature—carelessness, which would be best punished on the spot by the immediate superior and with realistic attention to the “fitting and proper” aspects of the case. Any commander is reluctant to blemish a service record for an offense which would be most appropriately punished by a “size twelve in the pants,” and yet if it is to be punished at all, it must be done in the formal, prescribed manner. Unfortunately, too, authorized punishments “fit” very few “crimes.”
Grave concern has been expressed in recent years over the decline of prestige among petty officers and non-coms. This is not a very mysterious malady; theoretically these men have experienced no decrease in responsibility; they have been stripped of personal power and relegated to the role of official tattletale. Having no power themselves to correct individuals in the traditional manner, they must depend upon some absent officer to enforce the orders which they issue in accomplishing the mission assigned to them. These men have no desire to become known as “Run-’em-up Jones,” or somesuch, because of petty offenses, and therefore, rather than incur the displeasure of the “Old Man” by bringing to mast a constant parade of petty offenders, they have found small choice but to wait until they have something “important” to offer the disciplinary mill. This is the equivalent of sitting beside the dike and waiting until the trickle is big enough to warrant the insertion of a telephone pole.
The commanding officer points with pride to his unit punishment record which reflects a well-disciplined unit and gives no hint of the routine indiscipline in the ranks. A large percentage of our offenders go unpunished because there is no longer any way of effecting realistic punishment on the spot. Even tongue-lashings must be fit for the ears of the Pope. Consequently, having little to back them up, they are impotent. The volume of punishments awarded now as compared with those awarded under “Rocks and Shoals” is quite similar, yet petty offenders are no longer corrected by the non-commissioned leader. Perhaps winning personalities among our junior leaders have become so effective that there are no petty offenders any more. This is nonsense, of course, but it appears to be soothing balm to those who so desperately attempt to justify the “New Era of Naval Leadership.”
We have learned to accept lowered standards as a norm rather than as a despicable condition which must be corrected immediately by whatever means appears most likely to provide early success. We preach leadership and extoll the need to convince men that what we are doing is right. It has been said that leadership is the art of getting people to do what you want them to do because they want to do it . . . who will ever want to cast himself into the teeth of a spitting machinegun? We may be conditioned to accept this only through training which instills habitual discipline.
If we prepare men for the ultimate, they will accomplish the ordinary with ease. Unfortunately, though, we are preparing men for the ordinary with the apparent expectation that they will accomplish the ultimate.
In building military teamwork, the first step to be accomplished, as all must agree, is suppression of individuality. In establishment of military discipline, the first step is in development of common humility. No man who lacks humility can feel subordination to another.
Though the above is indisputably true on both counts, our military system has had imposed upon it the requirement for granting the individual intellectual supremacy over the group. Likewise we have been forced to answer to the pressures of society which insist that we do not humble the individual, but nurture instead his individuality and human dignity. All this is fast putting leaders on a first-name basis with subordinates who once shuddered at their possible displeasure. Junior leaders are discovering that they must win co-operation, or suffer unit failure.
Unlike industry, we cannot fire the slob and detractor, nor can we take away his rank and position without documentary evidence. We are stuck with him unless he will give us something we can get our teeth into. Although he may consider himself to be our prisoner, actually the reverse is true. We are forced to employ him. Because we can do little else without seeming to be a martinet, we give him an “average” rather than an “excellent” fitness report, in the hope that this will frighten him into doing better.
Gone is the tough sergeant, the hard-bitten petty officer whose displeasure once meant a day in the head with a toothbrush or ten laps around the drill field with a sand-filled pack and rifle at high port. Gone is the respect and subordination once accorded the junior leader by his men. “Sergeant Blow” has become just plain “Joe Blow” to his subordinates, who consider him either a “good guy” or a “boot-licker,” depending on where his loyalties lie.
Gone is the squad-bay wrath toward individuals whose lack of effort caused the entire squad to hold a field day in lieu of liberty. “Mass punishment” is now a despicable crime against military men. It is manifest, however, that in combat an entire unit continues to suffer for the carelessness of one or a few. For the leader it is difficult to establish a close feeling of unit accomplishment, without routine examples of the cost of individual failure.
Along with disciplinary emancipation for the military man came a condition where Johnny held another weapon over his superiors—the letter to his Congressman.
In attempting to maintain proper balance of discipline, junior leaders continued to practice “disciplinary training,” even after promulgation of “The Book.” Thence arose the specter of Congressional investigation, which usually resulted in a determination of “cruel and unusual” or simply “unauthorized” punishment in regard to such practices. Being unwilling to jeopardize themselves, and unable to separate authorized from unauthorized, junior leaders soon became dedicated to the “Book” as the sole basis for maintaining discipline. It became ponderous and inappropriate and extremely troublesome to watch one’s step this way, so the junior leader gave up. At least he could scarcely get in dutch if he did nothing. He is now astute in leaving Johnny strictly alone. Johnny enjoys the greatest freedom ever experienced by a military man. If he wishes to be a bum, he will be a bum and, unless he commits a crime against military society in general, he will probably leave the service with an honorable discharge, but leave he will. Johnny is not impressed, either; he has little reason to envy his superiors their advanced position, except that they receive more money. As a soul-satisfying experience, military service has lost much of its challenge and traditional rewards.
The officer corps has become torn within itself intellectually. Though many have become resigned middle-of-the-roaders, on either edge are rabid abettors of two leadership concepts: (1) that leadership is pure and simple salesmanship, and (2) that military leadership premises first enforced compliance, with salesmanship a second and desirable, but not critical, factor. Obviously only a talented salesman can lead effectively under the first concept, whereas any intelligent officer can lead under the second. Great military leaders have invariably been great salesmen, but they have also been disciplinarians.
The pendulum of leadership practices has swung far into the first concept, speeded there by public opinion and our own uncertainty. Whether it will swing back toward a realistic compromise, without the impetus of catastrophe, is doubtful.
Along with the division in leadership theory has come a distintegration of stabilizing doctrine within the officer corps. Professional ethics have received little enthusiastic emphasis in recent years. It has become common for officers to shirk traditional amenities, either through ignorance or individual preference. Few are the seniors who will demand compliance with customs which grant them honor and personal prerogatives. The fear of ostracism by democratic society has all but stamped out military pomp and ceremony which was once a source of inspiration to the officer corps and the fighting man as well.
What of the policing factors which the officer corps once exerted upon itself? Unofficial “hack,” as an example, was once a most valuable training tool in the development of young officers. This has fallen into universal disuse by the department head and the division officer, who now can accomplish little without reference of cases to the commanding officer. Much the same effect has occurred here as occurred when the petty officer and the non-com were stripped of personal corrective authority, except that here the disruption is vital, magnified many times by virtue of expanded influence.
Similarly, the commanding officer who will order a court-martial on an officer of his command for carelessness or negligence is a scarce personality. The fitness report has become the primary punisher of such things, with example lost in the maze of long-range administration.
The exacting of compliance by force has been castigated time and again by proponents of ‘"salesmanship,” who justify their theories by saying that the old brute-force system would surely drive good men out of the service and seriously hamper recruiting programs. This must also presuppose that challenge and a desire for personal prestige are no longer valid motivating factors for American youth. What a pity that we can demand nothing of youth except sugar-coated servitude wherein he is made as comfortable as possible and feels himself to be the intellectual equal of his superiors!
We have accepted a bag of nonsense as though it were divine guidance. Let us pray fervently that our first test will be an easy one, for we have become the domesticated house-pet of democratic society, in lieu of the fierce, untamed watch-dog we were designed to be. We may bark convincingly, but perhaps we are counting too heavily on this means of frightening intruders. They may decide to fight, and what then? Will voluntary subordination to ideals suddenly make fierce wolves of the sheep we have been breeding? If so, will they also suddenly become well-disciplined and able to fight in good order with central direction?
The “E” for excellence won in gunnery practice indicates ability to shoot, but it is a minor indication of the ability to fight. Popularity of leaders is also merely a minor factor. Battle discipline is the major indication of the ability to fight and this we can only estimate. But common sense and an appreciation of human nature tells us that that which is given voluntarily can be withheld arbitrarily when the cost outweighs the benefits. The flashing bayonet will ever be more fearsome than withheld promotion. Enforced habit is the only factor which is strong enough to build battle-discipline, haggle though we may over idealism and democratic principle.
It is grossly inconsistent to maintain a force expressly for the purpose of waging inhuman and bloody war (which violates every principle of God and man), while at the same time requiring that force to operate with weakening principles which invite anarchy in its ranks.
We sneer at defeated armies of the past whose defeat bore the stamp of indiscipline and military slovenliness. We wag our heads knowingly and hold forth in learned discourse regarding such folly. How can we, then, bet everything on a conviction that these ancient causes miraculously no longer premise the same effect? Is our “noble experiment” truly a giant step forward in the divine progress of man, or will it one day be known as “The Folly of the Ages?”
Lieutenant Commander Lund, now attending the Command and Staff Course at the Naval War College, Newport, R. I., was most recently attached to the U. S. Naval Security Group Activity, Kamiseya, Japan, where he was communications security officer. Prior to that he was Commanding Officer, USS La Moure County (LST-883).
Major Chapman, who enlisted in the Marines in 1943, is now at Kamiseya. A specialist in communications, he was commissioned in 1950 and was a graduate of the U. S. Army Security Agency advanced officer course in 1958. He has written for the Marine Corps Gazette and for several newspapers in Massachusetts.