Some Principles of Maritime Strategy by Julian Stafford Corbett

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SOME PRINCIPLES OF MARITIME STRATEGY

JULIAN S. CORBETT

London

1911

[Illustration: _Sir Julian Corbett (courtesy D.M. Schurman)_]

CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION

THE THEORETICAL STUDY OF WAR--ITS USE AND LIMITATIONS

PART I. THEORY OF WAR

I. THE THEORY OF WAR
II. NATURES OF WARS--OFFENSIVE AND DEFENSIVE
III. NATURES OF WARS--LIMITED AND UNLIMITED
IV. LIMITED WAR AND MARITIME EMPIRES
V. WARS OF INTERVENTION--LIMITED INTERFERENCE IN UNLIMITED WAR
VI. CONDITIONS OF STRENGTH IN LIMITED WAR

PART II. THEORY OF NAVAL WAR

I. THEORY OF THE OBJECT--COMMAND OF THE SEA
II. THEORY OF THE MEANS--THE CONSTITUTION OF FLEETS
III. THEORY OF THE METHOD--CONCENTRATION AND DISPERSAL OF FORCE

PART III. CONDUCT OF NAVAL WAR

I. INTRODUCTORY--
1. INHERENT DIFFERENCES IN THE CONDITIONS OF WAR ON LAND AND ON SEA
2. TYPICAL FORMS OF NAVAL OPERATIONS
II. METHODS OF SECURING COMMAND--
1. ON OBTAINING A DECISION
2. BLOCKADE
III. METHODS OF DISPUTING COMMAND--
1. DEFENSIVE FLEET OPERATIONS--"A FLEET IN BEING"
2. MINOR COUNTER-ATTACKS
IV. METHODS OF EXERCISING COMMAND--
1. DEFENCE AGAINST INVASION
2. ATTACK AND DEFENCE OF TRADE
3. ATTACK, DEFENCE, AND SUPPORT OF MILITARY EXPEDITIONS

Appendix: The "Green Pamphlet"

INDEX

* * * * *

INTRODUCTION

The Theoretical Study of War--Its Use and
Limitations

* * * * *

At first sight nothing can appear more unpractical, less promising of
useful result, than to approach the study of war with a theory. There seems
indeed to be something essentially antagonistic between the habit of mind
that seeks theoretical guidance and that which makes for the successful
conduct of war. The conduct of war is so much a question of personality, of
character, of common-sense, of rapid decision upon complex and
ever-shifting factors, and those factors themselves are so varied, so
intangible, so dependent upon unstable moral and physical conditions, that
it seems incapable of being reduced to anything like true scientific
analysis. At the bare idea of a theory or "science" of war the mind recurs
uneasily to well-known cases where highly "scientific" officers failed as
leaders. Yet, on the other hand, no one will deny that since the great
theorists of the early nineteenth century attempted to produce a reasoned
theory of war, its planning and conduct have acquired a method, a
precision, and a certainty of grasp which were unknown before. Still less
will any one deny the value which the shrewdest and most successful leaders
in war have placed upon the work of the classical strategical writers.

The truth is that the mistrust of theory arises from a misconception of
what it is that theory claims to do. It does not pretend to give the power
of conduct in the field; it claims no more than to increase the effective
power of conduct. Its main practical value is that it can assist a capable
man to acquire a broad outlook whereby he may be the surer his plan shall
cover all the ground, and whereby he may with greater rapidity and
certainty seize all the factors of a sudden situation. The greatest of the
theorists himself puts the matter quite frankly. Of theoretical study he
says, "It should educate the mind of the man who is to lead in war, or
rather guide him to self-education, but it should not accompany him on the
field of battle."

Its practical utility, however, is not by any means confined to its effects
upon the powers of a leader. It is not enough that a leader should have the
ability to decide rightly; his subordinates must seize at once the full
meaning of his decision and be able to express it with certainty in
well-adjusted action. For this every man concerned must have been trained
to think in the same plane; the chief's order must awake in every brain the
same process of thought; his words must have the same meaning for all. If a
theory of tactics had existed in 1780, and if Captain Carkett had had a
sound training in such a theory, he could not possibly have misunderstood
Rodney's signal. As it was, the real intention of the signal was obscure,
and Rodney's neglect to explain the tactical device it indicated robbed his
country of a victory at an hour of the direst need. There had been no
previous theoretical training to supply the omission, and Rodney's fine
conception was unintelligible to anybody but himself.

Nor is it only for the sake of mental solidarity between a chief and his
subordinates that theory is indispensable. It is of still higher value for
producing a similar solidarity between him and his superiors at the Council
table at home. How often have officers dumbly acquiesced in ill-advised
operations simply for lack of the mental power and verbal apparatus to
convince an impatient Minister where the errors of his plan lay? How often,
moreover, have statesmen and officers, even in the most harmonious
conference, been unable to decide on a coherent plan of war from inability
to analyse scientifically the situation they had to face, and to recognise
the general character of the struggle in which they were about to engage.
That the true nature of a war should be realised by contemporaries as
clearly as it comes to be seen afterwards in the fuller light of history is
seldom to be expected. At close range accidental factors will force
themselves into undue prominence and tend to obscure the true horizon. Such
error can scarcely ever be eliminated, but by theoretical study we can
reduce it, nor by any other means can we hope to approach the clearness of
vision with which posterity will read our mistakes. Theory is, in fact, a
question of education and deliberation, and not of execution at all. That
depends on the combination of intangible human qualities which we call
executive ability.

This, then, is all the great authorities ever claimed for theory, but to
this claim the chief of them at least, after years of active service on the
Staff, attached the highest importance. "In actual operations," he wrote in
one of his latest memoranda, "men are guided solely by their judgment, and
it will hit the mark more or less accurately according as they possess more
or less genius. This is the way all great generals have acted.... Thus it
will always be in action, and so far judgment will suffice. But when it is
a question not of taking action yourself, but of convincing others at the
Council table, then everything depends on clear conceptions and the
exposition of the inherent relations of things. So little progress has been
made in this respect that most deliberations are merely verbal contentions
which rest on no firm foundation, and end either in every one retaining his
own opinion, or in a compromise from considerations of mutual respect--a
middle course of no actual value."[1]

[1] Clausewitz, _On War_, p. ix. The references are to Colonel Graham's
translation of the third German edition, but his wording is not always
followed exactly.

The writer's experience of such discussions was rich and at first hand.
Clear conceptions of the ideas and factors involved in a war problem, and a
definite exposition of the relations between them, were in his eyes the
remedy for loose and purposeless discussion; and such conceptions and
expositions are all we mean by the theory or the science of war. It is a
process by which we co-ordinate our ideas, define the meaning of the words
we use, grasp the difference between essential and unessential factors, and
fix and expose the fundamental data on which every one is agreed. In this
way we prepare the apparatus of practical discussion; we secure the means
of arranging the factors in manageable shape, and of deducing from them
with precision and rapidity a practical course of action. Without such an
apparatus no two men can even think on the same line; much less can they
ever hope to detach the real point of difference that divides them and
isolate it for quiet solution.

In our own case this view of the value of strategical theory has a special
significance, and one far wider than its continental enunciators
contemplated. For a world-wide maritime Empire the successful conduct of
war will often turn not only on the decisions of the Council chamber at
home, but on the outcome of conferences in all parts of the world between
squadronal commanders and the local authorities, both civil and military,
and even between commanders-in-chief of adjacent stations. In time of war
or of preparation for war, in which the Empire is concerned, arrangements
must always be based to an exceptional degree on the mutual relation of
naval, military, and political considerations. The line of mean efficiency,
though indicated from home, must be worked out locally, and worked out on
factors of which no one service is master. Conference is always necessary,
and for conference to succeed there must be a common vehicle of expression
and a common plane of thought. It is for this essential preparation that
theoretical study alone can provide; and herein lies its practical value
for all who aspire to the higher responsibilities of the Imperial service.

So great indeed is the value of abstract strategical study from this point
of view, that it is necessary to guard ourselves against over-valuation. So
far from claiming for their so-called science more than the possibilities
we have indicated, the classical strategists insist again and again on the
danger of seeking from it what it cannot give. They even repudiate the very
name of "Science." They prefer the older term "Art." They will permit no
laws or rules. Such laws, they say, can only mislead in practice, for the
friction to which they are subject from the incalculable human factors
alone is such that the friction is stronger than the law. It is an old
adage of lawyers that nothing is so misleading as a legal maxim, but a
strategical maxim is undoubtedly and in every way less to be trusted in
action.

What then, it will be asked, are the tangible results which we can hope to
attain from theory? If all on which we have to build is so indeterminate,
how are any practical conclusions to be reached? That the factors are
infinitely varied and difficult to determine is true, but that, it must be
remembered, is just what emphasises the necessity of reaching such firm
standpoints as are attainable. The vaguer the problem to be solved, the
more resolute must we be in seeking points of departure from which we can
begin to lay a course, keeping always an eye open for the accidents that
will beset us, and being always alive to their deflecting influences. And
this is just what the theoretical study of strategy can do. It can at least
determine the normal. By careful collation of past events it becomes clear
that certain lines of conduct tend normally to produce certain effects;
that wars tend to take certain forms each with a marked idiosyncrasy; that
these forms are normally related to the object of the war and to its value
to one or both belligerents; that a system of operations which suits one
form may not be that best suited to another. We can even go further. By
pursuing an historical and comparative method we can detect that even the
human factor is not quite indeterminable. We can assert that certain
situations will normally produce, whether in ourselves or in our
adversaries, certain moral states on which we may calculate.

Having determined the normal, we are at once in a stronger position. Any
proposal can be compared with it, and we can proceed to discuss clearly the
weight of the factors which prompt us to depart from the normal. Every case
must be judged on its merits, but without a normal to work from we cannot
form any real judgment at all; we can only guess. Every case will assuredly
depart from the normal to a greater or less extent, and it is equally
certain that the greatest successes in war have been the boldest departures
from the normal. But for the most part they have been departures made with
open eyes by geniuses who could perceive in the accidents of the case a
just reason for the departure.

Take an analogous example, and the province of strategical theory becomes
clear at once. Navigation and the parts of seamanship that belong to it
have to deal with phenomena as varied and unreliable as those of the
conduct of war. Together they form an art which depends quite as much as
generalship on the judgment of individuals. The law of storms and tides, of
winds and currents, and the whole of meteorology are subject to infinite
and incalculable deflections, and yet who will deny nowadays that by the
theoretical study of such things the seaman's art has gained in coherence
and strength? Such study will not by itself make a seaman or a navigator,
but without it no seaman or navigator can nowadays pretend to the name.
Because storms do not always behave in the same way, because currents are
erratic, will the most practical seaman deny that the study of the normal
conditions are useless to him in his practical decisions?

If, then, the theoretical study of strategy be approached in this way--if,
that is, it be regarded not as a substitute for judgment and experience,
but as a means of fertilising both, it can do no man harm. Individual
thought and common-sense will remain the masters and remain the guides to
point the general direction when the mass of facts begins to grow
bewildering. Theory will warn us the moment we begin to leave the beaten
track, and enable us to decide with open eyes whether the divergence is
necessary or justifiable. Above all, when men assemble in Council it will
hold discussion to the essential lines, and help to keep side issues in
their place.

But beyond all this there lies in the theory of war yet another element of
peculiar value to a maritime Empire. We are accustomed, partly for
convenience and partly from lack of a scientific habit of thought, to speak
of naval strategy and military strategy as though they were distinct
branches of knowledge which had no common ground. It is the theory of war
which brings out their intimate relation. It reveals that embracing them
both is a larger strategy which regards the fleet and army as one weapon,
which co-ordinates their action, and indicates the lines on which each must
move to realise the full power of both. It will direct us to assign to each
its proper function in a plan of war; it will enable each service to
realise the better the limitations and the possibilities of the function
with which it is charged, and how and when its own necessities must give
way to a higher or more pressing need of the other. It discloses, in short,
that naval strategy is not a thing by itself, that its problems can seldom
or never be solved on naval considerations alone, but that it is only a
part of maritime strategy--the higher learning which teaches us that for a
maritime State to make successful war and to realise her special strength,
army and navy must be used and thought of as instruments no less intimately
connected than are the three arms ashore.

It is for these reasons that it is of little use to approach naval strategy
except through the theory of war. Without such theory we can never really
understand its scope or meaning, nor can we hope to grasp the forces which
most profoundly affect its conclusions.

* * * * *

PART ONE

THEORY OF WAR

* * * * *

CHAPTER ONE

THE THEORY OF WAR

* * * * *

The last thing that an explorer arrives at is a complete map that will
cover the whole ground he has travelled, but for those who come after him
and would profit by and extend his knowledge his map is the first thing
with which they will begin. So it is with strategy. Before we start upon
its study we seek a chart which will show us at a glance what exactly is
the ground we have to cover and what are the leading features which
determine its form and general characteristics. Such a chart a "theory of
war" alone can provide. It is for this reason that in the study of war we
must get our theory clear before we can venture in search of practical
conclusions. So great is the complexity of war that without such a guide we
are sure to go astray amidst the bewildering multiplicity of tracks and
obstacles that meet us at every step. If for continental strategy its value
has been proved abundantly, then for maritime strategy, where the
conditions are far more complex, the need of it is even greater.

By maritime strategy we mean the principles which govern a war in which the
sea is a substantial factor. Naval strategy is but that part of it which
determines the movements of the fleet when maritime strategy has determined
what part the fleet must play in relation to the action of the land forces;
for it scarcely needs saying that it is almost impossible that a war can be
decided by naval action alone. Unaided, naval pressure can only work by a
process of exhaustion. Its effects must always be slow, and so galling both
to our own commercial community and to neutrals, that the tendency is
always to accept terms of peace that are far from conclusive. For a firm
decision a quicker and more drastic form of pressure is required. Since men
live upon the land and not upon the sea, great issues between nations at
war have always been decided--except in the rarest cases--either by what
your army can do against your enemy's territory and national life or else
by the fear of what the fleet makes it possible for your army to do.

The paramount concern, then, of maritime strategy is to determine the
mutual relations of your army and navy in a plan of war. When this is done,
and not till then, naval strategy can begin to work out the manner in which
the fleet can best discharge the function assigned to it.

The problem of such co-ordination is one that is susceptible of widely
varying solutions. It may be that the command of the sea is of so urgent an
importance that the army will have to devote itself to assisting the fleet
in its special task before it can act directly against the enemy's
territory and land forces; on the other hand, it may be that the immediate
duty of the fleet will be to forward military action ashore before it is
free to devote itself whole-heartedly to the destruction of the enemy's
fleets. The crude maxims as to primary objects which seem to have served
well enough in continental warfare have never worked so clearly where the
sea enters seriously into a war. In such cases it will not suffice to say
the primary object of the army is to destroy the enemy's army, or that of
the fleet to destroy the enemy's fleet. The delicate interactions of the
land and sea factors produce conditions too intricate for such blunt
solutions. Even the initial equations they present are too complex to be
reduced by the simple application of rough-and-ready maxims. Their right
handling depends upon the broadest and most fundamental principles of war,
and it is as a standpoint from which to get a clear and unobstructed view
of the factors in their true relations that a theory of war has perhaps its
highest value.

The theory which now holds the field is that war in a fundamental sense is
a continuation of policy by other means. The process by which the
continental strategists arrived at it involved some hard philosophical
reasoning. Practical and experienced veterans as they were, their method is
not one that works easily with our own habit of thought. It will be well,
therefore, to endeavour first to present their conclusions in a concrete
form, which will make the pith of the matter intelligible at once. Take,
now, the ordinary case of a naval or military Staff being asked to prepare
a war plan against a certain State and to advise what means it will
require. To any one who has considered such matters it is obvious the reply
must be another question--What will the war be about? Without a definite
answer or alternative answers to that question a Staff can scarcely do more
than engage in making such forces as the country can afford as efficient as
possible. Before they take any sure step further they must know many
things. They must know whether they are expected to take something from the
enemy, or to prevent his taking something either from us or from some other
State. If from some other State, the measures to be taken will depend on
its geographical situation and on its relative strength by land and sea.
Even when the object is clear it will be necessary to know how much value
the enemy attaches to it. Is it one for which he will be likely to fight to
the death, or one which he will abandon in the face of comparatively slight
resistance? If the former, we cannot hope to succeed without entirely
overthrowing his powers of resistance. If the latter, it will suffice, as
it often has sufficed, to aim at something less costly and hazardous and
better within our means. All these are questions which lie in the lap of
Ministers charged with the foreign policy of the country, and before the
Staff can proceed with a war plan they must be answered by Ministers.

In short, the Staff must ask of them what is the policy which your
diplomacy is pursuing, and where, and why, do you expect it to break down
and force you to take up arms? The Staff has to carry on in fact when
diplomacy has failed to achieve the object in view, and the method they
will use will depend on the nature of that object. So we arrive crudely at
our theory that war is a continuation of policy, a form of political
intercourse in which we fight battles instead of writing notes.

It was this theory, simple and even meaningless as it appears at first
sight, that gave the key to the practical work of framing a modern war plan
and revolutionised the study of strategy. It was not till the beginning of
the nineteenth century that such a theory was arrived at. For centuries men
had written on the "Art of War," but for want of a working theory their
labours as a whole had been unscientific, concerned for the most part with
the discussion of passing fashions and the elaboration of platitudes. Much
good work it is true was done on details, but no broad outlook had been
obtained to enable us to determine their relation to the fundamental
constants of the subject. No standpoint had been found from which we could
readily detach such constants from what was merely accidental. The result
was a tendency to argue too exclusively from the latest examples and to
become entangled in erroneous thought by trying to apply the methods which
had attained the last success to war as a whole. There was no means of
determining how far the particular success was due to special conditions
and how far it was due to factors common to all wars.

It was the Revolutionary and Napoleonic wars, coinciding as they did with a
period of philosophic activity, that revealed the shallowness and empirical
nature of all that had been done up to that time. Napoleon's methods
appeared to his contemporaries to have produced so strenuous a revolution
in the conduct of land warfare that it assumed a wholly new aspect, and it
was obvious that those conceptions which had sufficed previously had become
inadequate as a basis of sound study. War on land seemed to have changed
from a calculated affair of thrust and parry between standing armies to a
headlong rush of one nation in arms upon another, each thirsting for the
other's life, and resolved to have it or perish in the attempt. Men felt
themselves faced with a manifestation of human energy which had had no
counterpart, at least in civilised times.

The assumption was not entirely true. For although the Continent had never
before adopted the methods in question, our own country was no stranger to
them either on sea or land. As we shall see, our own Revolution in the
seventeenth century had produced strenuous methods of making war which were
closely related to those which Napoleon took over from the French
Revolutionary leaders. A more philosophic outlook might have suggested that
the phenomenon was not really exceptional, but rather the natural outcome
of popular energy inspired by a stirring political ideal. But the British
precedent was forgotten, and so profound was the disturbance caused by the
new French methods that its effects are with us still. We are in fact still
dominated by the idea that since the Napoleonic era war has been
essentially a different thing. Our teachers incline to insist that there is
now only one way of making war, and that is Napoleon's way. Ignoring the
fact that he failed in the end, they brand as heresy the bare suggestion
that there may be other ways, and not content with assuming that his system
will fit all land wars, however much their natures and objects may differ,
they would force naval warfare into the same uniform under the impression
apparently that they are thereby making it presentable and giving it some
new force.

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