> ![](media/image1.png){width="6.486805555555556in"
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**TRANSFORMATIONAL LEADERSHIP IN
WARTIME**![](media/image2.png){width="7.286111111111111in"
height="2.1597222222222223in"}

*By Lieutenant Colonel Steve Eden, United States Army*

Strategy Research
Paper![](media/image3.png){width="2.5368055555555555in"
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height="0.28055555555555556in"}

Project Advisor: Professor Conrad Crane, MHI

This SRP was submitted 19 March 2004 in partial fulfillment of the
requirements of the Master of Strategic Studies Degree. The views
expressed in this student academic research paper are those of the
author and do not reflect the official policy or position of the
Department of Defense, or the U.S.
Government.![](media/image5.png){width="0.2in"
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> I found no preparations whatever for defence, not even to the extent
> of putting the troops in military positions. Not a regiment was
> properly encamped, not a single avenue of approach guarded\...the
> streets, hotels, and bar-rooms were filled with drunken officers and
> men absent from their regiments without leave - a perfect pandemonium.
> Many had even gone to their homes, their flight from Bull Run often
> terminating in New York, or even in New Hampshire and Maine. There was
> really nothing to prevent a small cavalry force from riding into the
> city.
>
> George B. McClellan
>
> My pilot's navigation had been excellent; he had struck the river just
> opposite our destination, the airfield at Magwe. We circled, waiting
> for a signal from the ground, but no lamp flickered, so we landed and
> taxied up the runway...Darkness was falling rapidly and all around us
> parked closely together were aircraft. I got out and walked towards
> some huts, which were evidently the control station...It was an
> office, but empty; so were the others...I wandered to the road that
> skirted the airfield, and at last a truck with some Burma Rifles in it
> came along. I hailed it, got the pilot, and we drove into RAF Wing HQ
> in Magwe...Although I knew warning had been sent from India, I never
> discovered whether I had really been expected or not. It was a strange
> arrival, and not too reassuring as to...the standard of staff work in
> Burma.
>
> William Slim
>
> By dawn the next morning I was on my way, by air, to the advanced
> CP...There is no substitute for personal reconnaissance, so on my
> order we flew a roundabout route, covering some sixty miles of rugged
> mountain country. Peering down from three thousand feet, I traced on a
> map the ridge lines where
>
> later on a reorganized Eighth Army could stand and fight. The sight of
> this terrain was of little comfort to a soldier commanding a
> mechanized army...I flew on to Seoul, to the advance CP, to find to my
> great disappointment only a handful of officers there. The others were
> back at Taegu, two hundred miles from the front - a situation I
> resolved to remedy at once.
>
> Matthew B. Ridgway

Few men are vouchsafed the command of armies; fewer still face the task
of rebuilding defeated armies in wartime, and of these only a handful
have been successful. Three who assumed command in the midst of defeat
were George McClellan, arriving in Washington, D.C., to take over the
Army of the Potomac as it licked its wounds after Bull Run; William
Slim, coming to Burma as the Japanese drove the British out of Rangoon;
and Matthew Ridgway, appointed to lead an Eighth Army reeling back
before the Chinese pouring over the Yalu River.

Each one of this trio led forces either recently defeated or in headlong
retreat. Each one found himself in a fundamentally changed strategic
situation, with armies ill designed for their allotted tasks. Thus, they
faced the monumental challenge of averting catastrophe while
transforming their commands into instruments of victory.

As will be seen, McClellan, Slim, and Ridgway differed considerably in
tactical acumen, command style, personality, and level of combat
experience. Each effected the transformation of their respective
commands differently. Nevertheless, a close study of their methods
reveals remarkably common approaches to the problem, and point the way
for an army seeking to \'grow\' transformational leaders - leaders who
are masters of the science, art, and craft of war. Their ability to use
traditional indicators of effectiveness to rapidly assess their
commands\' condition, and to discern the critical problems vice the
transitory within a transformed environment - the science of war - laid
the foundation for ultimate success. Building upon that foundation
required of each an intuitive grasp of the art of war, allowing them to
formulate a vision of future operations based on their prior experience
and their understanding of war\'s basic principles. Finally, each
possessed the master craftsman\'s talent for adapting theory to the
material at hand, the capacity to make an abstract vision concrete.

George McClellan took a demoralized army of short-term volunteers run by
amateur generals and turned it into the professional force that
ultimately (and long after he passed from the scene) became the
juggernaut that ground down the Confederacy. He recognized the falsity
of expectations that the war would amount to a military promenade to
Richmond, and established the logistic, administrative, and qualitative
preconditions for victory. It is true that he lacked the ability to lead
his creation - though he never lost a battle he was constitutionally
incapable of winning a campaign - but the operational tempo of his times
allowed him to employ his considerable organizational talents unmolested
by the enemy.

Slim, on the other hand, entered the scene just in time to witness the
Battle of the Sittang River, which sealed the fate of the British in
Burma. Salvaging what he could from the wreckage, he found temporary
refuge in India. There, despite limited resources and the harshest
environment of the war, he remolded what had been a colonial
peacekeeping army into a modern fighting machine, capable of redeeming
Burma from the Japanese.

Matthew Ridgway lacked the luxury of time to reverse the verdict on the
battlefield. With no other option save abandoning the Korean peninsula
altogether, he had to halt the longest retreat in American history, and
adapt an army designed for the plains of Europe to the frozen hills of
Korea. Ridgway had to inspire a demoralized Eighth Army, train it in
appropriate tactics, and implement a new operational design, all in the
crucible of combat. Moreover, he had to accomplish all this in the
context of what had become a uniquely limited war.

> McClellan the Organizer: Knowing what right looks like

Fresh from a series of minor victories in West Virginia, George Brinton
McClellan arrived in Washington, D.C., late on 26 July, 1861. The next
day was taken up by interviews with the President and General Winfield
Scott, and the numerous formalities of assuming command. Early on the
28th he began an exhausting round of inspections, personal
reconnaissance, and reviews. McClellan was not pleased with what he
found. His commanders had little idea of what lay just outside their
picket lines; other than a few regular regiments, most of his units were
untrained and ignorant of the basics of camp life; the few prepared
positions were poorly constructed, ill-sited, and isolated. But it was
his human material that concerned him the most, ^\"^a collection of
undisciplined, ill-officered, and uninstructed men, who were, as a rule
much demoralized.\"^1^

McClellan was thirty-four years old as he galloped about Washington and
its environs. It had been just fourteen years since his graduation from
West Point, only four since he had resigned as a captain to take up a
career in the railroad industry. However, his ten years of service had
been particularly beneficial in preparing him for his new role. As a
distinguished young engineer officer during the Mexican War, McClellan
had campaigned in an Army part volunteer and part regular. That war left
him with a firm understanding of the strengths and weaknesses of
volunteer regiments and their green officers. He served on the staff of
America\'s greatest general,

1 George B. McClellan, *McClellan\'s Own Story* (New York: Charles L.
Webster & Company, 1887), p.68 (hereafter cited as *MOS).*

Winfield Scott, from whom he gained an understanding of army
organization and administration. He distilled these lessons through the
next seven years of semi-independent command and regimental service.
Then, in 1855, the bright young captain was afforded an extraordinary
opportunity. Dispatched to Europe to observe the Crimean War, McClellan
traveled throughout the continent, a grand tour of the world\'s most
advanced armies. His book-length report, published in 1861, while
innocent of any deep theorizing, reflected McClellan\'s keen insight
into the minutiae of military organizations.^2^ Upon his return from
Europe, unable to face the stultifying prospect of garrison life, he
left the Army.

McClellan was not without his faults. Though vigorous and handsome, the
self-confidence he exuded masked a bone-deep indecisiveness. As one of
his business associates commented, \"he can never make up his mind under
two or three weeks on any matter and when he has made it up, is by no
means certain about his decision.\"^3^ Four years in the railroad
business, however, had not dimmed his memory of how a successful army
operated, or of the contrast between America\'s volunteers and the
professionals of Europe.

McClellan also brought to Washington a flawed but essentially correct
vision of how the Union defeat at Bull Run had changed the strategic
situation - and of the type of army required to win the war. In an
appreciation submitted to the president, written less than a week after
assuming command, McClellan wrote:

> We have not only to defeat their armed and organized forces in the
> field, but to display such an overwhelming strength as will convince
> all our antagonists\...of the utter impossibility of resistance. Our
> late reverses make this course imperative. Had we been successful in
> the recent battle (Manassas) it is possible that we might have been
> spared the labor and expense of a great effort; now we have no
> alternative\...The contest began with a class, now it is with a
> people\...^4^

McClellan estimated that this great task would require an army of
273,000, trained, equipped, and organized along modern lines. Though it
may seem unremarkable in hindsight, his proposal envisioned a radical
break with American military tradition - an army of volunteers, ten
times larger than any yet seen on the continent, trained to the
standards of regulars.

Instead of a mammoth army of well-trained soldiers, McClellan possessed
perhaps 50,000 men, many with their enlistments about to expire.
Thousands more were being mobilized throughout the north, but adding
them to a demoralized (and in some cases mutinous) mob

> ^2^ George B. McClellan, *The Armies of Europe* (Philadelphia: J.B.
> Lippincott & Co., 1861), *passim.*
>
> ^3^ Russel H. Beatie, *The Army of the Potomac,* Vol. I (Cambridge,
> MA: Da Capo Press, 2002), p. 403.
>
> ^4^ MOS, p. 101.

would only exacerbate the situation. Fortunately for the Union, the
young commander recognized the crux of the problem. The soldiers were
demoralized due to their recent defeat, certainly, but the lack of basic
discipline and the self-evident incompetence of the chain-of­-command
prevented the swift recovery from disaster that would become a hallmark
of the Army of the Potomac. In other words, the soldiers instinctively
understood that they stood no chance against the rebels. The officer
corps, trying to educate themselves by poring over fifty-year-old drill
manuals, lacked the ability to reestablish the confidence destroyed at
Bull Run. In simplest terms, they did not know what right looked like.
McClellan did.

***Transforming an army, one regiment at a time***

His first step was to impose order from above. On 30 July, he appointed
Colonel Andrew Porter, a Regular officer, as Provost-Marshal.^5^
Assigned the bulk of the regular units, Porter swept the barrooms and
brothels of Washington clean, enforcing a strict pass policy. By 4
August, McClellan was able to write to his wife, \"I have Washington
perfectly quiet now. You would not know that there was a regiment here.
I have restored order very completely already.\"^6^

With the men fully in hand, McClellan embarked upon a whirlwind program
that severely tested his considerable vitality, leading to physical
collapse at least twice over the next five months.7 First, he withdrew
his shakiest regiments from the Virginia side of the Potomac. They
entered training camps established in the suburbs of Washington, formed
into provisional brigades of four regiments under the tutelage of
Brigadier General Fitz-John Porter. Porter was also a career officer, a
former tactical instructor at West Point. As fresh units arrived, they
also went into camp. There, units drilled, marched, and learned the
rudiments of camp life, while the officers studied at night guided by a
small cadre of regulars. Boards reviewed the competency and moral
character of regimental officers, removing those deemed unworthy of
their commissions.^8^ As the provisional brigades reached the desired
level of expertise, they were certified for active duty through a series
of exercises and reviews, normally observed by McClellan himself. Once
certified, the brigades passed over the Potomac, maintaining their unit
integrity as they reported for duty.^9^

*^5^ The War of the Rebelion: A Compilation of the Official Records of
the Union and Confederate Armies,* Series I, Vol II, (Washington, D.C.:
Government Printing Office, 1881), No 769, General Orders No. 2, dated
July 30, 1861 (hereafter cited as OR).

> ^7^ Stephen W. Sears, *George B. McClelan: The Young Napoleon* (New
> York: Ticknor & Fields, 1988), p.100.
>
> ^8^ *OR,* Series I, Vol V, No 1.

Similar camps sprang up for the cavalry and artillery arms, commanded by
Brigadier Generals George Stoneman and William Barry respectively. Both
were long service veterans, well suited to the task of turning raw
material into competent units. The same principles of forming units,
keeping them together during training, certifying and forwarding them
intact for active service were applied. Barry also had the luxury of
teaming one regular battery with three volunteer batteries; the regular
battery served as instructors and demonstrators, while the regular
battery commander served as the chief of artillery when the four were
attached to a division. Barry also rationalized artillery organization.
Volunteers arrived in Maryland with a variety of \"unusual and
unserviceable calibers\", but crossed the Potomac with standardized
equipment.^10^

McClellan did not neglect his supporting or administrative departments.
He greatly expanded and rationalized the staff, while creating virtually
from scratch a provost marshal, medical department, signal corps, and a
bureau of topographical engineers. McClellan energized the quartermaster
and ordnance departments by assigning a great number of energetic,
competent officers to meet the needs of an army he envisioned as
swelling to nearly 300,000 men.

The *modus operandi* in each area was a top-down reorganization,
creation of centralized training facilities, and establishment of
quality-control boards. The Signal Corps, for instance, gathered in
details from each regiment to a camp of instruction in Georgetown. There
they were taught techniques of signaling, including such new-fangled
innovations as the use of pyrotechnics and the telegraph. Afterwards,
officers and men were distributed throughout the Army, from regiment to
army headquarters.^11^ Likewise, the new medical department brought the
makeshift and improvised (and wholly inadequate) hospitals, clinics, and
aid stations scattered throughout the area under central control. Under
the firm hand of Charles S. Tripler, standards of operations were
established, estimates made for future needs, and regimental doctors
incorporated into a chain-of-command. Professional boards screened the
qualifications of all medical officers, eliminating the many \"irregular
and doubtful appointments\" made in the volunteer regiments.^12^

McClellan was astute in his choices of trainers, bureau heads, and staff
officers. Men like Stoneman, Barnard, Porter, Tripler, A.A. Humphreys,
S. Van Vliet, and Albert Mayer efficiently carried out the monumental
task of creating a modern army from a mass of volunteers. Though

10 *OR,* Series I, Vol V, No 2.

11 *OR,* Series I, Vol V, No 3.

12 *OR,* Series I, Vol V, No 4.

he never created a truly modern staff along Prussian lines, he formed a
team molded in his own image: experienced men, regimental soldiers or
civilians whose skills could be translated directly to the military.
They tended to be workaholics, authoritarians with an eye for detail,
just the type needed to transform the army in the shortest possible
time, to establish standards where none existed, and to provide the
foundation for future success and development. In other words, they
reflected and amplified McClellan\'s own virtues.

***The conscious charismatic***

In addition to his formidable organizational skills, the \"Young
Napoleon\" earned his sobriquet. In a romantic age, he consciously
strove to inspire his troops. Always immaculately uniformed, the
handsome young general took every opportunity to show himself to the
army, riding through camps, tracing the picket lines, and holding
numerous reviews. These forays, of course, served as a means of
inspection, but they also \"let the men see me and gain confidence in
me.\"^13^ A superb horseman, McClellan never failed to impress as he
galloped past astride his giant steed, hat in hand, stern eagle-eye
searching out every fault. To an army of green soldiers, he personified
the popular image of the model major general. According to the chaplain
of the 1st Minnesota, \"his presence is greeted with the enthusiasm that
the soldiers of France always exhibited toward Napoleon.\"^14^

McClellan matched his physical gifts with a quiet, gentlemanly demeanor
finely attuned to the temper of the age. Though he privately seethed
against his enemies, real and imagined, and was often subject to fits of
childish pique, he usually confined his feelings to his extensive
correspondence with his wife. In camp, he freely encouraged the approach
of enlisted men and officers, courteously hearing their complaints and
exercising the power of his public persona. As one of his aides
recalled, \"he knew how to inspire others with an absolute
devotion.\"^15^

For the Army of the Potomac, confidence in their leader grew alongside
confidence in themselves. McClellan\'s training program, administrative
reforms, and inspirational leadership, synergistically benefited the
army\'s morale. It engendered in them a belief that they possessed the
skills and the numbers to gain victory, and that McClellan was the man
who could lead them there. This faith remained steadfast through years
of defeat, bearing fruit at Gettysburg, in the Wilderness, and beyond;
meanwhile, the army\'s \"absolute devotion\" to its Young Napoleon long
survived his departure from command.

13 MOS, p.168.

14 Sears, p.111.

15 Philippe, Comte de Paris, \"McClellan Organizes the Grand Army\", in
*Battles and Leaders of the Civil War,* Vol II (Secaucus, N.J.: Castle,
n.d.), pp. 112-113.

Some find it remarkable that a man who found the fog of war impenetrable
could possess so clear a vision of the future battlefield. Admittedly,
McClellan mistook Richmond, as opposed to Lee\'s army, for the
Confederate center of gravity. That flaw (shared by many at that point
in the war) notwithstanding, the commander firmly grasped the nature of
the instrument required for victory. This comprehension arose from his
regimental service, his experience at the feet of Winfield Scott, and
his survey of European armies.

McClellan was able to effect the transformation of his army precisely
because it required construction from scratch - not in the sense of a
hundred flowers blooming, but as an engineer might raise a new building.
He was supremely fitted for the task. McClellan\'s experience gave him
the blueprints; his infinite capacity for hard work and his need to
personally control the process provided the quality control; finally,
his Napoleonic touch resonated perfectly with his men, inspiring their
efforts and imbuing the Army with the requisite fighting spirit.

> Slim the Innovator: The School of Hard Knocks

In March 1942, William Slim arrived in Burma to take command of the
grandly named BurCorps. His timing was execrable. He assumed command
just as the Battle of the Sittang Bridge sealed the fate of the British;
his initial campaign would be endless, miserable retreat from Rangoon to
the Indian frontier. Only the footsore rump of BurCorps, bereft of heavy
equipment, could be salvaged from the wreck. Nevertheless, Slim profited
from the ordeal in two ways: first, even as he suffered a string of
defeats, he was formulating solutions to the unique tactical and
operational challenges in Burma; secondly, he established a warm
relationship with his officers and men that not only survived the
retreat, but endured the travails of the long road back.

Son of a Birmingham ironmonger, Slim had been directly commissioned in
1914. He spent most of the war in the Near East, fighting at Gallipoli
and in Iraq. After the war, he had continued a balanced if unremarkable
career in regimental service, staff work, and instructing. Slim was an
old India hand, an experienced campaigner in the Northwest Territories
who was intimately familiar with the multi-ethnic defenders of Great
Britain\'s imperial crown jewel.^16^ Slim\'s service since 1939 had
taken him to the Horn of Africa and the Middle East, fighting Italians,
French, and Iraqi insurrectionists. His last assignment had been as the
commander of 10th Indian Division, participating in the largely
bloodless occupation of Persia. He had compiled a favorable combat
record, though largely against mediocre or unenthusiastic

16 Duncan Anderson, \"Slim\", in *Churchil\'s Generals,* John Keegan,
ed. (London: Cassell, 1959), pp. 301 - 305.

opposition. But nearly three decades of service had given him an
invaluable store of experience to draw on. Most of his fighting career
had been spent in colonial expeditions over long distances with
ramshackle logistical support (including, significantly, early
experiments in air supply). Such campaigns had imbued him with a
\'make-do\' ethos, a flair for improvisation, an appreciation for the
art of the possible, and a firm grasp of the importance of maneuver in a
war without fronts.^17^

Now he was entering unfamiliar territory. By his own admission, he was
ignorant of both Burma and the Japanese, and none too familiar with
jungle warfare.^18^ It may have been just as well that he did not know
what he was getting into. BurCorps had already suffered considerable
losses in the war\'s opening clashes. The headquarters had been, before
the war, strictly administrative, and had neither the kit nor the
training to properly conduct operations. When Slim found it, it had 60
personnel, four wireless sets, no messing section, rudimentary
furnishings, and precious little office equipment. The operations
section owned 2 motorcycles, 2 jeeps, and a single truck.^19^ There was
no intelligence network, amidst a population that was apathetic when not
outright hostile, and communications were spotty at best. ^20^

Slim\'s first act was to move his headquarters close behind the fighting
front. This allowed him to visit his units and to somewhat compensate
for the poor state of his communications. As one battalion commander
recalled, \"He habitually visited the formations, scattered all over the
front, by jeep or car. He was always accessible and when he was in the
offing and I was able to talk to him, I invariably returned full of
confidence and pep!\"^21^

Despite his inspiriting presence, BurCorps\' tactical performance was
uniformly unsatisfactory. To be fair, Slim\'s assigned missions
consistently spread his divisions far too thinly to offer any hope of
even temporarily checking the Japanese advance. Nevertheless, each
engagement of the campaign followed a depressingly similar course. The
British would establish a blocking position along the route north,
flanks anchored in the supposedly impenetrable jungle. The Japanese
would appear to their front and be checked; momentary elation soon gave
way to despair as an enemy force would suddenly materialize in the
British rear. The reserves, positioned too closely to the action,
invariably failed to dislodge the Japanese, and the blocking force would
have to cut its way out, abandoning its heavy

17 Field Marshal Sir William Slim, *Unofficial History* (London:
Cassell, 1959), passim.

18 Field Marshal Viscount Slim, *Defeat Into Victory* (London: Pan
Books, 1999), pp. 19-20.

19 Geoffrey Evans, Slim as Military Commander (London: B.T. Batsford
Ltd., 1969), pp. 64-65.

20 Ronald Lewin, *Slim the Standard Bearer* (Ware, UK: Wordsworth
Editions Limited, 1999), pp. 79-80.

21 Evans, pp. 66-67.

equipment and its seriously wounded. After a further withdrawal to a
subsequent position, the process repeated itself. There was no
questioning the resolve of the Commonwealth troops, but inevitably the
army began to regard their Japanese opponents as supermen, uniquely
fitted to warfare in the jungled hills.

Slim instinctively sought to strike back at the Japanese, but the
exhaustion of his troops, the desperate state of his road-bound supply
columns, and the press of events frustrated his plans. In some cases
Slim probably asked too much of his men. His own assessment of his
performance is possibly the frankest ever recorded in a general\'s
memoirs:

> For myself, I had little to be proud of; I could not rate my
> generalship high. The only test of generalship is success, and I had
> succeeded in nothing I had attempted. Time and again I had tried to
> pass to the offensive and to regain the initiative and every time I
> had seen my house of cards fall down as I tried to add its crowning
> storey\...In preparation, in execution, in strategy, and in tactics we
> had been worsted, and we had paid the penalty - defeat.*^22^*

This self-excoriation is unwarranted. Slim was a talented tactician,
learning rapidly in a hopeless situation. On at least three occasions he
saved his corps from utter annihilation. At Monywa, for instance,
threatened with encirclement by a surprise Japanese advance as BurCorps
limped across the Chindwin River, Slim rallied his stunned staff by
calmly issuing orders for a series of counterstrokes within 15 minutes.
It is safe to say that few men could have done as well, or salvaged as
much from disaster. In the judgment of Slim\'s chief of staff, \"\...the
Angel Gabriel could not have saved Burma in 1942.\"^23^

Little enough was salvaged. On 12 May 1942, just ahead of the monsoon
that put an end to all operations, the British crossed into India. Along
with the flotsam and jetsam of a wrecked army, only a few thousand men
remained capable of resistance. It was a barefoot column, dressed in
rags, with little more than small arms and the ammunition carried on the
men's backs. Even after reaching sanctuary, the army continued to lose
hundreds each day to malaria and dysentery. BurCorps could only muster
ten artillery pieces, fourteen mountain guns, four anti-tank guns, 50
trucks and 30 jeeps, all "badly in need of maintenance."^24^ As for
Slim, despite his unflappable demeanor, the strain had been
considerable: he abandoned plans to grow a beard when it came out snow
white.^25^

22 Slim, pp. 120-121.

23 James Lunt, *The Retreat from Burma 1941-1942* (New York: David &
Charles Publishers, 1989), p. 276.

24 Combined Inter-Services Historical Section, *Official History of the
Indian Armed Forces in the* Second *World War 1939-45: The Retreat From
Burma 1941-42,* Bisheswar Prasad, ed. (Calcutta: Sree Saraswaty Press
Ltd, 1952), p. 346.

25 Lewin, p. 104.

***Transforming on a shoestring***

With BurCorps deactivated, Slim was assigned command of its replacement,
XV Corps, and eventually rose to command 14th Army, responsible for the
bulk of operations in Eastern India and Burma. In the months ahead,
despite distractions in the form of civil unrest and minor operations in
the Arakan region, Slim remained focused on preparing his command for
the eventual liberation of Burma.^26^ He outlined his assessment of the
recent campaign in a \'lessons learned\' memorandum issued to XV Corps
units:

(i) The individual soldier must learn, by living, moving, and exercising
    in it, that the jungle is neither impenetrable nor unfriendly\...

(ii) Patrolling is the master key to jungle fighting\...

(iii) All units must get used to having Japanese parties in their rear,
      and, when this happens, regard not themselves, but the Japanese,
      as \'surrounded\'.

(iv) In defence, no attempt should be made to hold long continuous
     lines\...

(v) \...Attacks should follow hooks and come in from flank or rear,
    while pressure holds the enemy in front\...

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(vii) \...Every unit and sub-unit\...is responsible for its own
      all-round protection, including patrolling, at all times.

(viii) If the Japanese are allowed to hold the initiative they are
       formidable. When we have it, they are confused and easy to kill.
       By mobility away from roads, surprise, and offensive action we
       must regain and keep the initiative.^27^

In essence, Slim envisioned the type of army needed to defeat the
Japanese. It would operate without contiguous fronts, deeply echeloned,
and capable of dominating the jungled hills that covered much of Burma.
It would not only accept encirclement but would use deep Japanese
thrusts as opportunities for inflicting devastating counterstrokes. In
order to fulfill this operational design, the army required adequate
communications, reliable intelligence, and, above all, tactical and
operational mobility.

Unfortunately, Slim\'s force in late 1942 possessed none of the above.
His formations were, for the most part, newly raised and indifferently
equipped. One division was scattered in penny-packets across eastern
India to suppress civil disturbances. The few veteran units had no
experience in jungle warfare, having been transferred from other
theaters; only a handful of survivors from BurCorps remained. The new
corps headquarters was designed for

26 Michael Hickey, *The Unforgettable Army* (Tunbridge Wells, UK:
Spellmount Ltd, 1992), p. 69.

administration, not combat, and much of the staff reflected years of
soft garrison duty. Most importantly, Burma was a secondary theater at
the far end of a very shaky supply pipeline. Absolutely at the bottom of
the Allies\' priority list, Slim and his men would largely be left to
their own devices as they transformed their way of waging war.

Slim\'s overhaul of his army aimed at providing his headquarters with
the means to command and control dispersed, continuous operations;
creating an intelligence network capable of tracking Japanese movements;
enabling tactical mobility through mastery of the terrain; and
translating tactical to operational mobility by strengthening (or in
some cases, creating) the mechanics of resupply. The methods used to
achieve these goals ranged from straightforward to strikingly
innovative - if somewhat inelegant.

Slim started with his own headquarters. Besides weeding out the unfit,
subjecting the remainder to grueling road marches, field problems, and
marksmanship training, Slim and his small cadre of veterans worked to
make the outfit a true operational headquarters. The emphasis was on
mobility. Everything, from furniture to map boards to office supplies,
was designed to be packed away in sling-mounted footlockers. These could
be transported by truck, plane, boat, mule, or porter. Constant drill
and strict adherence to load plans allowed the headquarters to displace
in a truly remarkable twenty minutes.^28^

In order to correct the crippling lack of operational intelligence, Slim
borrowed a technique used to good effect throughout Britain\'s colonial
wars. To penetrate the *terra incognita* of Burma\'s jungles, Slim
established what came to be known as the \'Yoma Intelligence Service\',
a collection of civil servants, traders, and forestry men - pre-war
residents familiar with Burma\'s back trails and enjoying the confidence
of the country\'s tribes. This unorthodox organization moved freely
behind the lines, providing invaluable long-range reconnaissance and
surveillance.^29^

Such intelligence, however, could only be exploited through improved
mobility. Despite his recent defeat, Slim did not rate his opponent
highly. Although the Japanese were brave and tenacious, he judged them
to be unimaginative, overly fond of tactical complexity, and slow to
react. He had every confidence that Allied soldiers could outfight the
Japanese if they could match (or better, surpass) their mobility.
Training therefore concentrated less on tactics than on movement, field
craft, and simple survival - skills that would allow the allied army to
outmaneuver the Japanese. This began with small units working hard at
minor tactics and

^27^ Slim, pp. 142-143.

28 Evans, pp. 91 -93.

29 Lewin, p. 86.

aggressive patrolling. All units, to include volubly protesting
rear-echelon formations, trained on these tasks. Slim built on this
foundation through a series of increasingly large and complex exercises
through division level. Training was supplemented with experimentation,
one Special Training brigade testing new organizations and tactics,
while using diverse modes of transportation from ponies to jeeps in an
effort to \"solve the problem of jungle mobility.\"^30^ The training
produced a four-fold payoff: it familiarized the men with the jungle,
making it seem a less mysterious and dangerous environment; it provided
the link between operational and tactical intelligence; it induced an
offensive spirit in a recently beaten army; and, once that army returned
to combat, it countered the infiltration tactics favored by the
Japanese.

But tactical proficiency was only one-half the solution. To reclaim
Burma, the British would have to penetrate what Slim described as a
\"wide belt of jungle-clad, precipitous hills, railless, roadless and,
for six months of the year during the monsoon rains, almost
trackless\...Such roads, railways, and navigable rivers as there were
stopped abruptly each side of the mountain barrier, a couple of hundred
miles apart.\"^31^ Beyond that barrier, it was another 500 miles to
Rangoon. Slim knew that \"the campaign in Burma would above all be a
supply and transport problem\...\"^32^ Prodigies of labor were expended
on road and rail communications, but often enough this only kept what
there was in barely tolerable condition.

Slim never entirely solved his logistical problem. It remained a source
of constant anxiety throughout the war. Nevertheless, he overcame the
problems of terrain through a combination of ruthless efficiency,
innovation, and improvisation - at least to the point where he had
established a relative superiority in operational mobility vis a vis his
Japanese counterpart.

As a first step, European standards were quickly abandoned. \"We
discovered that,\" Slim wrote later, \"instead of the four hundred tons
a day not considered excessive to keep a division fighting in more
generous theaters, we could maintain our Indian divisions in action for
long periods\...on one hundred and twenty.\"^33^ As reinforcements
arrived, the bulk of their transport was stripped from them and
centralized. Any gear not absolutely essential to fighting was relegated
to depots in Eastern India. This entailed considerable hardship for the
fighting men, especially the English troops, and a reduction in
firepower - Slim freely admits that muscle was sliced away with the
fat - but it allowed his divisions unparalleled powers of movement
across difficult terrain.

30 Slim, pp. 141 -142.

31 Slim, pp. 169 - 170.

32 Slim, p. 169.

33 Slim, p. 540.

The reduced logistical footprint eased, but did not eliminate, the
difficulties of resupply. No amount of fiddling with tables of
organization could keep formations active in trackless, waterlogged
country. For this, Slim turned to water and air transport.

With the Royal Navy unable to provide 'brown water' craft, Slim
characteristically created his own river fleet from scratch. At Kalewa
on the Chindwin, engineers constructed several hundred barges from teak
logs. Motor boats and engines, purchased in India, arrived in parts and
were reassembled on the riverbanks. Salvage teams raised and repaired
tugs, steamers, and even Japanese landing craft, wrecked in earlier
fighting. By the time Slim began his great counteroffensives, his
miniature navy was moving 500 tons a day, and allowing limited maneuver
of combat forces down the great rivers of north and central Burma.^34^

But Slim's main contribution to victory came in his daring and original
use of air transport. Though he had to beg, borrow, or steal airplanes
until very late in the war, air transport provided a vital link in the
logistical chain, and allowed for mass movement of units over otherwise
impassable terrain. In 1943, air transport was, for the most part, used
conventionally - moving critical supplies forward, evacuating
casualties, or administratively moving formations from one spot in the
rear to another. Over the next year, however, as the supply of transport
craft grew more reliable, Slim experimented and improvised. Divisions
were reorganized so that one brigade was made entirely air
transportable, by replacing all trucks with jeeps, modifying artillery
pieces so they could fit in Dakota transports, and scaling down
"baggage, supplies, and ammunition\...reliance being placed on quick
replenishment by air."^35^ Idle beach master units, designed for
amphibious operations, were transformed into Forward Airfield
Maintenance Organizations, and typically accompanied leading elements
into combat. Slim's troops became masters at the art of cutting a hasty
airstrip into the jungle, or of putting a captured airfield back into
operation. Standard loads were devised, refined, and tailored for
specific operations, so that every planeload delivered supplies with
maximum efficiency. By the time of Slim's drive on Rangoon, his army
combined ground and air maneuver by hop scotching around and over a
confused Japanese foe from one airhead to another - all, it must be
added, without the use of specially trained troops or elite airborne
formations, or indeed with enough airplanes in hand. As Slim put it:

> A feature of our airborne operations and movements was that the troops
> employed were not of some special kind. No soldiers\...were taught to
> believe there was anything mystic, strange, or unusual about air
> movements or maintenance; to them, of whatever race, these were normal
> administrative

34 Slim, pp. 398 - 400.

35 Slim, p. 387.

> methods\...we were undoubtedly the most air-minded army that ever
> existed. We had to be.*^36^*

Slim's comments on air transport encapsulate the secret of his success
in Burma. Hamstrung by insufficient resources, he adapted the tools at
hand, improvised when necessary, and accepted risk where he had to.
Provided with units that, at best, required extensive acclimatization to
a new environment, and, at worst, consisted of raw conscripts, he
focused their training on those skills most critical to the Burmese
battlefield. As reinforcements trickled in, he indoctrinated them in his
idiosyncratic methods and quickly made them contributing members of the
team. In short, he formulated a vision of how to beat the Japanese and
then refused to allow the multitude of obstacles, shortcomings, and
handicaps to divert him from achieving his aims. He tailored his means
to his ends, rather than the other way around, as a lesser man might -
but a lesser man could not have transformed the army that drove the
Japanese out of Burma.

But even allowing for Slim's superb improvisational skills and his keen
tactical acumen, perhaps his greatest achievement was in convincing the
men who served with him that victory was not only possible, but
inevitable. Despite the beating they took in 1942 and the initial
impression of the Japanese as jungle-savvy supermen, despite the
manifest material shortages, the Rube Goldberg logistical system, and
the neglect of a home front focused on other theaters, Slim infused an
army that eventually grew to eighteen divisions with the force of his
own confidence and enthusiasm. Partly this was the result of hard and
relevant training, always a morale booster with men destined for combat.
Mostly, though, it was the result of an unconsciously charismatic man
conscientiously applying basic tenets of leadership.

***The unconscious charismatic***

Slim used the hardships of the retreat to forge a remarkable bond with
his men - though 'use' perhaps connotes a degree of conscious
manipulation foreign to Slim's nature. Certainly Slim understood that a
leader must show himself, share the rigors of campaigning, and
demonstrate a degree of confidence he may not, in his heart, possess.
But he did not purposefully play to his audience in the way McClellan
did. Indeed, that was part of his appeal. To his troops, he was the
antithesis of the reserved, aristocratic officer who may have earned
their respect but rarely their affection. His ability to connect with
the common soldier without seeming to pander touched a chord across a
great range of ethnicities.

36 Slim, pp. 544-545.

The British soldiers in Burma recognized Slim as one of their own. It
was common knowledge that he was from the lower middle class and not a
product of Sandhurst; a persistent myth arose that he had enlisted as a
private in 1914. The average Tommy of that period gave short shrift to
officers who consciously tried to appear common when they were not - it
was Slim\'s great gift to be comfortable in his own skin, and yet able
to command respect. One soldier records his first impression of the
general:

> He was wearing an ordinary army issue topi, without embellishment, an
> ill-pressed khaki bush-shirt without medal ribbons, and a pair of
> khaki slacks that looked as if he had slept in them (which he probably
> had)\...He did not have Alex\'s panache, nor Monty\'s fire, but he
> impressed by his evident integrity, the absence of any kind of
> \'stuffiness\', and by the warmth of his personality.*^37^*

His experience in India helped, of course. He understood the needs, both
physical and emotional, of his multi-national force. He had commanded
Gurkha and Indian troops, knew how they had been trained and what they
were capable of. He spoke a number of subcontinent languages, allowing
him greater familiarity with men of indubitably alien cultures. But it
was his human touch that inspired soldiers with that most precious
commodity - faith that the commander understood his business and would
ask of them what was necessary, but no more.

"When speaking in English, Gurkhali, Urdu, or Pushtu," one officer
observed, "it was always as one man to another - never the great
commander to his troops\...He was human, but never soft - far from
it\...He was a great leader - true; he was a great commander - true; but
to us he was, above all, the well-loved friend of the family."^38^ A
captain on Slim's staff provided an example of the unconscious
mannerisms that meant so much to an army in the midst of defeat.
"Throughout the retreat, when speaking on the wireless Slim always began
'This is Bill speaking.' To me, at any rate, 'Bill speaking' at a time
of crisis was psychologically superb, for it breathed friendship, not
necessarily avuncular!"^39^

Though he tirelessly preached to units, headquarters, and small groups
encountered in motor pools, canteens, and along jungle trails, Slim
could not spread himself thin enough to reach the entire army. He did
press hard - by his own calculation one-third of his time was spent on
visits - but he did not exhaust himself. Beset by hemorrhoids, prostate
problems, recurring bouts of 'Delhi belly' and malaria, Slim set himself
a schedule meant to preserve his physical and mental powers. Except
during crises, he rose at 0600, often took a three-hour break at
lunchtime or in the afternoon, finished his work in the early evening
and retired

^37^ Lunt, p. 197.

^38^ Evans, p. 87.

39 Lewin, p. 94.

promptly at 2200.^40^ Thus, he pressed his commanders into service as
his proxies, first ensuring to "unite them in a common approach to the
problem, in the points that they would stress, and in the action they
would take to see that principles became action not merely words."^41^
In modern parlance, he formulated an information campaign, tirelessly
prosecuted it, and made sure that his subordinates stayed on message.

The commanders and their staffs found it easy to spread the gospel
because they themselves believed it, a result of Slim's collective
approach to problem solving.

> Commander's conferences were not unlike postgraduate university
> seminars, with Slim as chairman, guiding but not dominating
> discussion. His technique was to say very little until the end, when
> he would summarise the discussion, analysing the strengths and
> weaknesses of the various arguments. He welcomed disagreement, even
> when he felt the arguments were unsound; the only thing he would not
> tolerate was mindless, sycophantic agreement with his point of
> view.^42^

The simply incompetent or those unable or unwilling to 'buy in' were
ruthlessly removed, the remainder enjoying Slim's unwavering trust.
"These were officers who could go to Slim informally after a meeting and
say 'Bill, I think you're making a howling cock of such and such.'"^43^
In such an environment, it is little wonder that his subordinates could
faithfully and honestly reinforce his spiritual exhortations.

Slim also saw to it that the confidence of the army was built by small
successes. As units were introduced to the battlefront, its best men and
officers were sent out on patrol. The hard training outlined earlier
invariably resulted in minor triumphs:

> These patrols came back to their regiments with stories of success, of
> how the Japanese had walked into their ambushes, how they had watched
> the enemy place their observation posts day after day in the same
> place, and then had pounced on them, how they had followed their
> patrols and caught them asleep. Our men brought back a Japanese rifle,
> an officer's shoulder-straps, a steel helmet.*^44^*

New men went out under experienced leaders, reinforcing and spreading
"that individual feeling of superiority and that first essential in the
fighting man - the desire to close with his enemy."^45^ Gradually, the
confidence cultivated by such operations was translated into (and
strengthened by) success at battalion, brigade, and division. Once faith
in victory grew, the

40 Duncan Anderson, "Slim and the Exercise of High Command in Burma", in
*The Chalenges of High Command,* ed. by Gary Sheffield and Geoffrey Till
(New York: Palgrave Macmillan Ltd, 2003), p. 76.

41 Slim, p. 184.

42 Anderson, p. 81.

43 Anderson, p. 80.

44 Slim, p. 188.

material shortcomings and benign neglect so evident to the men became
perverse sources of pride, just more evidence of the special prowess of
the army in Burma. It was a spirit that survived the desperate battles
around Kohima and Imphal in 1944, and carried the army through Japan's
finest field army all the way to Rangoon and beyond.

> Ridgway the Adapter: Back to the Future

Matthew Ridgway first learned of his appointment to command the Eighth
Army on 22 December 1950, at a Washington, D.C., cocktail party. As
Deputy Chief of Staff for Operations and Administration he had, of
course, followed daily the course of events in Korea, from the initial
setbacks through the defense of the Pusan perimeter, to the brilliant
landings at Inchon and the subsequent advance to the Yalu. From November
on, he pored over the hourly reports of disaster as Chinese intervention
initiated the U.S. Army\'s longest retreat, a bitter withdrawal that
seemed destined to end in evacuation of the peninsula. As one scholar
later reported, \"no one outside the Far East knew more about the Korean
War than Ridgway.\"^46^ Yet he was still stunned by the phone call from
Chief of Staff Joseph Collins, informing him that the commander of
Eighth Army, Walton Walker, had just been killed, and that Collins
wanted him to \"get your things together and get out there just as soon
as you can.\"^47^ Five days later he was in Korea.

A 1917 graduate of West Point, Ridgway saw no action in the Great War,
spending the last year of that war teaching French at his alma mater.
His interwar career was typical enough: command of infantry units in
China, Texas, and the Canal Zone; odd jobs such as election supervisor
in Nicaragua and military adviser to the Governor-General of the
Philippines; stints as a staff officer alternating with schooling at
Leavenworth and the Army War College. Ridgway was one of the coterie of
young officers who favorably impressed George C. Marshall during those
long years, and in 1942 he was appointed as assistant division commander
of the 82nd Infantry Division. He took command of the division as it
trained for airborne operations and led it during the invasions of
Sicily and Normandy. He rose to command XVIIIth Airborne Corps through
Operation Market-Garden, the Battle of the Bulge, and the final jump
across the Rhine. After the war he held a number of posts, most
semi-diplomatic in nature, before being assigned to the Pentagon in
1949.^48^

46 George C. Mitchell, *Matthew B. Ridgway: Soldier, Statesman, Scholar,
Citizen* (Mechanicsburg, PA: Stackpole Books, 2002), pp. 49 - 50.

^47^ Matthew B. Ridgway, *Soldier: The Memoirs of Matthew B. Ridgway*
(New York: Harper & Brothers, 1956), p. 195 (Hereafter cited as
*Soldier).*

^48^ *Soldier,* passim.

As a leader of elite airborne soldiers, Ridgway's wartime experience (at
least until the final months, when his corps became, for all practical
purposes, airborne in name only) was unusual compared to his peers. It
was, first of all, episodic in nature, with the airborne undergoing
severe trials followed by rotation out of the firing line to prepare for
the next jump. Secondly, though Ridgway led exceedingly tough,
well-trained troops, they were often outclassed by the enemy in terms of
firepower, armor, mobility, and supply - certainly a unique situation
for most American commanders. Finally, Ridgway learned his trade in the
odd rhythm of airborne operations: punctilious, detailed planning
followed by utter chaos that the commander could only overcome through
personal effort and force of personality. They were lessons that would
stand him in good stead in Korea.

From his vantage point in the Pentagon, Ridgway concluded that the entry
of Communist Chinese forces into Korea had fundamentally transformed
both the strategic and the operational environment. A local intervention
against a minor satellite had become a limited conflict with one of the
giants of communism, hugely raising the stakes; with his broader
perspective, Ridgway viewed the Korean War within a worldwide context
that MacArthur could not (or perhaps would not) appreciate. In his
opinion, victory in a traditional sense was not only beyond the
resources of the free world - there were other, more important ramparts,
that had to be manned - but the consequences of victory might be as
disastrous as defeat. Operationally, the maneuverist style of MacArthur,
reinforced by the slashing armor tactics of Walton Walker (known during
World War II, it should be noted, as \"Patton\'s Bulldog\"), had led to
the current catastrophe. A flood of stolid, veteran infantrymen,
carrying what they needed on their backs, was routing a mechanized,
road-bound army, scattered by its own reckless maneuvering. As Ridgway
flew into Korea, he was determined to turn Eighth Army around, tracing
on a map the line where he would consolidate his corps, a position from
which he would then rapidly go over to the offensive. The plan did not
long survive his arrival at his advanced command post in Seoul.^49^

The dilemma that faced him there was encapsulated by his senior aide,
who noted in his diary, \"Weather terrible, Chinese ferocious, morale
stinko.\"^50^ The Eighth Army staff officers, spirit shattered, did not
impress their new commander. Most fully anticipated being back in the
Pusan perimeter within 3 - 5 days.^51^ The state of intelligence was
summed up by a large red

49 *Soldier,* pp. 203 - 204.

50 Jonathan M. Soffer, *General Matthew B. Ridgway: From Progressivism
to Reaganism 1895 -- 1993* (Westport, CT: Praeger Publishers, 1998), p.
117.

51 Roy E. Appleman, *Ridgway Duels for Korea* (College Station, TX:
Texas A & M University Press, 1990), p. 13.

goose egg on the map, with the number 174,000 scrawled inside.
Logistical officers had stopped shipping ammunition forward, considering
that it was wasted effort in light of further expected withdrawals.^52^

Ridgway spent the first few days in Korea visiting every U.S. Corps and
Division in Eighth Army by light plane, helicopter, and jeep. He found
that \'bug out\' fever had infected the army from top to bottom. At each
command post he visited he discovered \"the same sense of lost
confidence and lack of spirit.\"^53^ The former paratrooper was most
dismayed by the funk he perceived in the ranks, an attitude greatly at
odds with the army he remembered in the last war. \"I could read it in
their eyes, in their walk. I could read it in their faces\...They were
unresponsive, reluctant to talk. I had to drag information out of
them.\"^54^ Even gripes had to be pried loose by direct interrogation, a
sure sign to the old soldier of demoralization.

And there was plenty to gripe about. One unit complained they had been
abandoned in the rout, another had no winter clothing issue, still
others had no envelopes, or had lost their mess tents. The root cause of
their distress, however, was clear: a solid month of retreat. They had
simultaneously lost faith in the competency of their leaders and grown
fearful of the enemy. Many Americans considered the Chinese soldier a
superman, inured to the weather, heedless of casualties, master of
infiltration and camouflage. For weeks on end Eighth Army had fallen
back to one line after another, only to see it turned, penetrated, or
bypassed. Few men knew why they were fighting in Korea, anyway; fewer
still were prepared to die for it.

Though he never showed it, Ridgway himself was shaken. On 29 December,
he supported in writing MacArthur\'s proposal to use Nationalist Chinese
to invade southern China, seeing it as the only way to relieve pressure
on the hard-pressed U.N. forces in Korea.^55^ Shortly thereafter, with
evidence mounting that the Chinese were about to resume the attack, he
\"put aside the hope I had entertained before\...of offensive action to
inflict losses and gain the initiative.\"^56^ But Ridgway\'s natural
pugnaciousness soon reasserted itself. The ex-paratrooper certainly had
fought and won before against uneven odds, and if he grudgingly admired
the Chinese as superb infantry, he also instinctively understood their
vulnerabilities. Furthermore, guidance from the Joint Chiefs arrived in
late December that may have steeled his resolve.

> We believe that Korea is not the place to fight a major war. Further,
> we believe that we should not commit our remaining available ground
> forces to action

52 Appleman, p. 147.

53 Matthew B. Ridgway, *The Korean War* (New York: Da Capo Press, Inc.,
1967), pp. 85 -- 87 (Hereafter cited as *Korean War).*

54 Appleman, p. 13.

55 Michael Schaller, *Douglas MacArthur: The Far Eastern General*
(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1989), p. 226.

56 Appleman, p. 37.

> against Chinese Communist forces in Korea in face of the increased
> threat of general war. However, a successful resistance to
> Chinese-North Korean aggression at some position in Korea\...would be
> of great importance to our national interest, if \[it\] could be
> accomplished without incurring serious losses.^57^

Though he does not refer to this message in his memoirs, it must have
crystallized Ridgway's thinking. There would be no reinforcements
arriving, and little tolerance for heavy losses - but neither was their
any specific territorial goal, beyond sustained resistance "at some
position." Ridgway had his mission.

***Micromanaging to Victory***

With his theoretical understanding of the situation in Korea leavened by
an on-the-ground assessment, Ridgway concluded that further withdrawal
was unavoidable. For one thing, nearly three-quarters of his divisions
were still refitting or in transit from the beating they had taken on
the eastern half of the peninsula; for another, the South Koreans on his
right flank remained extremely shaky. When the Chinese attacked in early
January, Seoul had to be abandoned again, along with most positions
north of the Han River. The lull that fell over the front in mid-January
resulted more from Chinese physical and logistical exhaustion than from
any efforts of Eighth Army.

Throughout those critical two weeks, Ridgway literally camped in I Corps
headquarters, the unit bearing the brunt of the fighting as the rest of
Eighth Army arrived to firm up the line. In his account of the war,
Ridgway charitably claims he did so for \"logistical\" reasons, but the
hard fact was that it was the best place for him to exercise direct
control over operations.^58^

He habitually preached a simple gospel to his commanders. He told them
to get off the roads and into the hills, maintain physical contact with
the units on their left and right, and aggressively patrol to identify
enemy build-ups and forestall Chinese infiltrations. If the line could
not be held, button up on the high ground, canalize Chinese
penetrations, and then grind them up with air, artillery, and armor.^59^
It represented a reversion to classic infantry tactics, a fighting style
that the commanders of 1918 would have recognized. Unfortunately, his
current crop of leaders could not be weaned from their attachment to
mechanized warfare by pep talks. Ridgway was consistently frustrated by
plans presented to him that were not in accord with his

^57^ Douglas MacArthur, *Reminiscences* (New York: McGraw-Hill Book
Company, 1964), pp. 377-378.

58 *Korean War,* p. 98.

59 *Korean War,* pp. 89 -90.

intent, and grew more and more intrusive in operations. He flatly rated
most of his Corps and Division commanders during this period as
\"inadequate.\"^60^

Consequently, Ridgway reserved to himself tactical decisions normally
the prerogative of division or even brigade commanders. He demanded to
see minor details such as the layout of minefields, road march tables,
passage lanes, and other minutiae of battle. He grilled subordinate
staffs unmercifully and often sent them back to the drawing boards when
their efforts fell short. He wanted orders so thorough that \"each
commander knew not only what he might do to cope with sudden disaster
but how he might take maximum advantage of sudden success.\"^61^ Once
plans were finally (and painfully) approved, he oversaw their progress
personally, as far forward as possible. It was not unusual for the
general to land close behind the front lines in the rickety AT-6 trainer
he habitually flew in, to sort out some snafu observed from the air.^62^

Execution and reporting also fell short of his expectations. He
scathingly instructed \"every commander to insist upon the launching of
an attack when ordered, and the immediate initiation of reports back
thru channels.\" He would have no tolerance for inordinate delay;
nevertheless, commanders would \"insure that every report to my
headquarters contains the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the
truth, negative included.\"^63^

Such micromanagement was as unfashionable then as it is today, and it
was bitterly resented by many in Eighth Army, but it undoubtedly saved
the U.N. in Korea. Crudely put, Ridgway did not trust the competence,
judgment, or spirit of his command during those black days of early
January. There was no time in the midst of crisis to re-educate the
army, or achieve consensus on the validity of his vision, so Ridgway
bludgeoned his subordinates into compliance. That he was successful is
confirmed by the report of Army Chief of Staff Joseph Collins, who
departed from a front-line visit on 17 January firmly convinced that
\"morale was fine\" and that Ridgway\'s current position was
\"impregnable.\"^64^

By that time, Eighth Army had already undertaken a few minor
counterattacks. A week later they began a general offensive that Ridgway
characterized as \"a phased advance under Army control.\" The purpose of
the advance was not to gain ground.

> It remained the infliction of maximum damage on the enemy with minimum
> to ourselves, the maintaining of all major units intact, and a careful
> avoidance of

60 *Korean War,* p. 91.

61 *Korean War,* pp. 118 - 120.

62 Edwin P. Hoyt, *The Day the Chinese Attacked* (New York: Paragon
House, 1993), p. 180.

63 Appleman, p. 389.

64 William Manchester, *American Caesar* (Boston: Little, Brown and
Company, 1978), p. 625.

> being sucked into an enemy trap - by ruse or as a result of our own
> aggressiveness - to be destroyed piecemeal. We were to pursue only to
> the point where we were still able to provide powerful support or at
> least manage a timely disengagement and local withdrawal.^65^

Ridgway loosened the reins during the subsequent advance, which
continued until April, though marked by local and temporary reverses.
That he could do so served as a barometer of rising morale and
confidence in his meat grinder tactics. Freed by the nature of the war
from the tyranny of gaining or holding ground, Eighth Army could use
terrain without being bound to it. This allowed uninhibited reliance on
firepower, both directly against the Chinese front and deep behind it
along his lines of communication. As the Chinese melted away with the
winter snow, the officers and men of Eighth Army had the fidelity of
Ridgway\'s vision demonstrated for them daily. Those who could not adapt
were ruthlessly eliminated: Ridgway fired his own G-3 and five division
commanders, replacing them with men of his own choosing.^66^ By the time
Ridgway was promoted to succeed the disgraced MacArthur on 11 April,
Eighth Army had reached a suitable defensive position north of the 38th
parallel - a line of no significance other than that it was a good one
from which to force the Chinese to the negotiating table. For the next
two years they would defend it while the politicians dithered, employing
the tactical and operational style imposed on them by the old
paratrooper.

***Consciously Uncharismatic***

There is a picture extant of Ridgway on his first day in Korea. He is
seated in an open-topped jeep, wearing a battered fatigue cap, baggy
airborne trousers, and his WWII web gear, first aid kit hanging off the
left web strap. His trademark grenade, however, is missing. The I Corps
commander, Major General Frank Milburn, is shoehorned into the back
seat, hunched over to avoid the machine gun on a pintle mount to his
left. A photo taken a few days later, with Ridgway glaring at a map held
by a clearly uncomfortable Lieutenant Colonel, shows the grenade in its
customary place on his right shoulder strap. The fatigue cap has been
replaced with the ubiquitous Korean cold weather hat, airborne wings
firmly planted beneath a row of three stars on the front flap.^67^ These
two photos capture Ridgway\'s dual approach to what he called \"my one
over-riding problem\...the spiritual awakening of the latent
capabilities of this

65 *Korean War,* p. 108.

66 Hoyt, p. 178.

*67 Soldier.* The photos can be found between pages 116 and 117.

command\": renewing the faith of the common soldier while challenging
the professionalism of his officers.^68^

Ridgway always insisted the first aid pouch and grenade were practical
accoutrements, but it is hard to believe that he did not understand
their dramatic effect. He liked to roar up in his jeep, dismount before
it had stopped rolling, and gather together as many men as he could for
an impromptu bitch session. He normally started by \"telling them that
they had to pull up their socks. There was nothing wrong with
them\...and no reason they could not win.\"^69^ He then listened to
their complaints, sampled their food, and inspected their positions with
a gimlet eye. As soon as he pulled out, he set his aides and staff
officers to resolve whatever problems had come to his attention, raising
hell himself if necessary. Nor did he confine himself to major issues.
Ridgway frankly admits that \"I concerned myself with petty matters,
too,\"^70^ such as ordering the bedsheet muslin and chipped crockery in
the general\'s mess replaced with fine linen and china, or directing the
delivery of olive oil to homesick Greek troops.^71^

These huddles of freezing men had a magic effect on morale. When, two
days after Ridgway promised help, trucks pulled up full of parkas and
winter boots for the 24th Infantry, or helicopters landed with
stationery for a hospital unit, the soldiers of Eighth Army concluded
that they had a commander who not only looked like them but genuinely
empathized with their plight, and - a critical point for the modern
American soldier - was competent enough to actually deliver on his
promises.^72^

Ridgway\'s tactical transformation also served as a tonic for low
spirits. Harry Sommers, a private in the 21st Infantry in 1951, provided
a GI-level appraisal of its effect. He recalled that, after the
hardships of the long retreat, \"within a week of Ridgway taking over we
were on a combat patrol thirty miles behind the Chinese lines\...Ridgway
knew there was always a great reservoir of squad-level courage in the
American army, and that if the frontline soldier was led effectively he
would always go out and get the job done.\" Ridgway\'s greatest
contribution, in Sommers\' opinion, was to \"disabuse people of the
notion that the Chinese were supermen\...He did not concentrate as much
on capturing territory as he did on killing the enemy. And it
worked.\"^73^

> 68 Appleman, p. 143.
>
> 69 Hoyt, p. 177.
>
> ^70^ *Korean War,* p. 103.
>
> ^71^ Soffer, p. 121.
>
> ^72^ Appleman, p. 25.
>
> ^73^ Rudy Tomedi, *No Bugles, No Drums* (New York: John Wiley & Sons,
> Inc., 1993), pp. 105 - 108.

Ridgway\'s efforts on behalf of the enlisted men were not reflected in
his treatment of his officers. He subjected them to a \"March or Die\"
ordeal, browbeat them during briefings, looked over their shoulders
during operations, and forced them to comply with his vision of a
transformed war. Those who could not or would not measure up were made
examples of - sometimes unfairly. When the I Corps G-3 admitted, after a
week or so of Ridgway\'s coaching, that he had no plans drawn up for
counter-attacks, Ridgway fired him on the spot.^74^ By most accounts,
the contretemps was the fault of the corps commander, not the G-3, who
was universally regarded as a fine officer. Nevertheless, the message
was effectively delivered throughout Eighth Army: join the team, embrace
the vision, or commit professional suicide. It was a brutal but not,
given the possibly apocalyptic consequences of a Chinese victory,
inappropriate motivational technique. And it worked.

Within one month of his arrival, Ridgway had transformed Eighth Army\'s
tactics and operational doctrine while desperately fending off a massive
Chinese offensive. In less than four months he had rolled the enemy back
past the 38th parallel, and established an American dominance in the
ground war it would never lose. His new method of making war conformed
to the requirements of limited war - risk avoidance, maximum punishment
inflicted with minimal resources, and appropriately unambitious
objectives - while it exploited the peculiar vulnerabilities of the
Chinese army. Even more remarkably, he reinvigorated a defeated army. He
was able to do so because he personalized for the common soldier the
competent, concerned leadership they yearned for; even more importantly,
he provided them the victories that reinforced their faith in themselves
and their chain-of-command.

That he produced the transformation and the victories through
micromanagement, intimidation, and challenges to his officers\'
professionalism - what might be called 'negative leadership' in a more
enlightened time - should not be held against him. Rather, it is a
credit to his understanding of soldiers and of men that, in the crisis,
he used the means most likely to produce results.

> Lessons for the Future

What are the lessons to be learned from these three case studies of
transformation under pressure? Can a comparison of McClellan, Slim, and
Ridgway indicate what rendered them capable of transforming their armies
into instruments of victory, under the worst possible conditions? And if
so, are those common characteristics ones that can be cultivated in
today\'s officer corps?

74 Soffer, p. 118.

It is obvious that the three generals were strikingly different
personalities. McClellan was an aristocrat in a democratic army, a
workaholic role player bluffly masking demons of insecurity; Slim was a
commoner among aristocrats, a mixture of phlegm and fire, a trusting
(and trusted) delegator of tasks; Ridgway, on the other hand, was a
showman when he had to be, by turns a ferocious taskmaster and Dutch
uncle. The three also used varying command styles, part personality
based and part consciously employed due to the exigencies of crisis.
Slim patiently steered his subordinates, building consensus but not
relying on it, forgiving of error and willing to experiment. Both
McClellan and Ridgway were more directive, both from a sense that they
alone could accomplish what needed to be done. McClellan centralized,
building his army from the top down, but once processes were up and
running in the hands of competent men, he left them alone - a military
version of the divine clockmaker. Ridgway micromanaged, a tendency not
wholly foreign to his nature, but greatly amplified due to the dire
straits of his army and the press of events.

Their experience levels also varied considerably. Both Slim and Ridgway
were career soldiers, older men with years of combat command behind
them; each was stepping up one level of command. McClellan had fought in
the Mexican War, but only as a staffer; he was, for all practical
purposes, a former company commander assuming responsibility for a
theater of war. As far as fighting talent goes, Slim ranks among the
great captains of the modern era, while Ridgway was a supremely
competent infantryman. McClellan's incapacity on the battlefield is
legendary, though he was not without flair as a strategist.

Yet if the contrasts are sharp, there are definite similarities in the
skill sets. All three possessed a talent for assessment that verged on
the *coup d'oeil.* It should be pointed out that each man was uniquely
well prepared by his past to judge his new command. McClellan already
knew the structural weakness of volunteer armies from his service in
Mexico, and had just completed a book on the great armies of Europe.
Moreover, the former West Pointer, regimental officer, and staff
paragon, understood the business of basic soldiering. Slim's long
service in colonial backwaters and sideshows had honed his knack for
innovation, predisposed him to wars of maneuver, and readied him for
operations in an extremely austere environment. Ridgway, the lifelong
infantryman, spent most of World War II as the light fighter facing
mechanized armies, and had the priceless opportunity to follow the
fighting in Korea (albeit at a distance) before assuming command there.

Nevertheless, the true key to the accurate and rapid evaluation of their
respective situations was their predilection for leaving their
headquarters. All three toured the front lines incessantly. They used
their time with the troops to inspect, to preach, and to listen. Each in

their own way adjudged what they saw and heard in the light of their own
experience, and drew the proper conclusions.

They were also able to formulate a vision of the future, incorporating
the unique constraints they had to labor under - limited resources,
limited objectives, or limited competence, as the case might have been.
Assuredly the stark fact of defeat helped them to recognize that
transformation was a prerequisite of victory, but the genius of their
visions should not thereby be denigrated. McClellan envisioned nothing
less than the creation of America's first modern army; Slim saw amidst
deprivation and defeat the elements that he could cobble together into a
powerful offensive instrument; Ridgway, product of an army that had
perfected total war, not only accepted the necessity of limited war, but
understood its implications at the operational and tactical levels.

Finally, each of the trio were master communicators, a skill they
consciously and continuously applied at every opportunity. They spread
their vision through written directives, formal and informal talks, and
by personal example. Each eloquently mastered the vernacular of their
men and their times; their leadership techniques and personae resonated
perfectly in the minds of their soldiery. McClellan, Slim, and Ridgway
all came to personify success for their soldiers as their armies reaped
the benefits of transformation.

If one accepts that technological acceleration and the globalization of
American interests will create an environment of continual
transformation, can we grow transformational leaders - or at least
identify those most likely to adapt well to change?

One aspect of the issue, based on the three case studies, seems to be
counter-intuitive: to fit or select a leader for transformation, make
sure he understands the nuts and bolts of his profession. Unless a
leader possesses an intuitive and deep understanding of the machinery of
war, he will be unable to reassemble it in useful form, or apply it in
innovative ways when circumstances require. Likewise, the necessary
skill of rapid and accurate assessment presuppose familiarity with
traditional indicators - the metrics of both combat and organizational
effectiveness.

Transformational leaders, by definition required to discard conventional
(and safe) solutions, require a self-confidence bordering on *hubris.*
It is probably not a coincidence that all three of our exemplars served
extensively in dusty, isolated garrisons for much of their careers,
shouldering heavy responsibilities far from the flagpole. It is true
that McClellan's confidence faded quickly on the edge of the
battlefield, but the celebrated young general never doubted his
organizational abilities.

Finally, the act of transformation requires communication - in many
forms - in order to synchronize the efforts of the multitude along a
single axis. To do so, the leader must not only be able to express
himself clearly - it is no accident that McClellan, Ridgway, and Slim
all wrote classic memoirs without the aid of ghostwriters - he must be
in touch with the culture of his command, instinctively attuned to the
proper motivational strings to tug on in the midst of unsettling change.

The practical implications of these observations seem clear. To widen
the pool from which to select transformational leaders, maximize time
spent in the modern equivalent of 'regimental service'; create
opportunities (even in the information age) for independent command;
place heavier responsibilities (and concomitant powers) on junior
leaders; and train them to write and speak clearly - no easy task in an
age of e-mail and bulletized slides. Promotion should depend on
demonstrated skill at problem solving, assessment, and communication;
admission to higher military education should be through standardized
testing along European lines - perhaps even making it possible to fail
once enrolled.

Finally, and perhaps most radically, 360 - degree evaluations should be
included in every officer's record to indicate the opinion of that most
discerning guardian of military standards - the common soldier. For if
the lessons of transformational leadership gleaned above could be
reduced to a single statement, it is that the success of transformation
depends above all on the enthusiastic support of those who bet their
lives on it.

> \*\*\*\*\*\*\*

*The views expressed in this academic paper are those of the author and
do not necessarily reflect the oficial policy or position of the U.S.
Government, the Department of Defense, or any of its agencies.*

> \*\*\*\*\*\*\*
>
> This publication and other CSL publications can be found online at
> [http://www.carlisle.army.mil/usacsl/index.asp]{.underline}