chances are that you will be too late. On the other hand, to detach a flying column for the purpose involves the sacrifice of its baggage and stores.
Thus, if you order your men to roll up their buffcoats and make forced marches without halting day or night, covering double the usual distance at a stretch, and doing a hundred li in order to wrest an advantage, the leaders of all your three divisions will fall into the hands of the enemy. The stronger men will be in front, the jaded ones will fall behind, and on this plan only one-tenth of your army will reach its destination. If you march fifty li in order to outmaneuver the enemy, you will lose the leader of your first division, and only half your force will reach the goal. If you march thirty li with the same object, two-thirds of your army will arrive. An army without its baggage train is lost; without provisions it is lost; without bases of supply it is lost.
We cannot enter into alliances until we are acquainted with the designs of our neighbors. We are not fit to lead an army on the march unless we are familiar with the face of the country—its mountains and forests, its pitfalls and precipices, its marshes and swamps. We shall be unable to turn natural advantages to account unless we make use of local guides.
In war, practice dissimulation and you will succeed. Move only if there is a real advantage to be gained. Whether to concentrate or to divide your troops must be decided by circumstances. Let your rapidity be that of the wind, your compactness that of the forest. In raiding and plundering be like fire, in immovability like a mountain.
Let your plans be dark and impenetrable as night, and when you move, fall like a thunderbolt. When you plunder a countryside, let the spoil be divided among your men; when you capture new territory, cut it up into allotments for the benefit of the soldiery.
Ponder and deliberate before you make a move. He will conquer who has learned the artifice of deviation. Such is the art of maneuvering.
For as the ancient Book of Army Management says: On the field of battle, the spoken word does not carry far enough; hence the institution of gongs and drums. Nor can ordinary objects be seen clearly enough; hence the institution of banners and flags. Gongs and drums, banners and flags, are means whereby the ears and eyes of the host may be focused on one particular point. The host thus forming a single united body, it is impossible either for the brave to advance alone, or for the cowardly to retreat alone.
Tu Mu tells a story in this connection of Wu Ch’i, when he was fighting against the Ch’in state, approximately 200 B.C. Before the battle had begun, one of his soldiers, a man of matchless daring, sallied forth by himself, captured two heads from the enemy, and returned to camp. Wu Ch’i had the man instantly executed, whereupon an officer ventured to remonstrate, saying: “This man was a good soldier, and ought not to have been beheaded.” Wu Ch’i replied: “I fully believe he was a good soldier, but I had him beheaded because he acted without orders.”
This is the art of handling large masses of men.
In night fighting, then, make much use of signal fires and drums, and in fighting by day, of flags and banners, as a means of influencing the ears and eyes of your army.
A whole army may be robbed of its spirit; a commander in chief may be robbed of his presence of mind.
Li Ch’uan tells an anecdote of Ts’ao Kuei, a protégé of Duke Chuang of Lu. The latter state was attacked by Ch’i, and the duke was about to join battle after the first roll of the enemy’s drums, when Ts’ao said: “Not just yet.” Only after their drums had beaten for the third time did he give the word for attack. Then they fought, and the men of Ch’i were utterly defeated. Questioned afterward by the duke as to the meaning of his delay, Ts’ao Kuei replied: “In battle, a courageous spirit is everything. Now the first roll of the drum tends