# Heresies of Sea Power/Part 3/Chapter 5

V
'FITNESS TO WIN
In concluding this book some definition of 'Fitness to Win' should perhaps be attempted, though it must be confessed that it is a singularly elusive thing to define. So elusive indeed, that it was originally intended not to make the attempt,-but to leave it at that vague conception which most of us hold of the qualities entailed. This, however, is hardly satisfactory, consequently an attempt is here made, if not to define very exactly what it is, at least to indicate to some extent what it is not.
It has been shown throughout this work that in every war almost the only solid fact common to all is that 'the fittest to win' were the eventual victors. It has been shown that these victors often lacked technical skill equal to that of their opponents, or were tactically inferior, strategically inferior, or had not such good ships or weapons. But they always had the 'fitness to win' quality which made up for every other deficiency and brought certain victory at the last. The 'fittest to win' have never gone under before superior matériel or before superior weapons.
​Sometimes, as in the case of the Romans against the Carthaginians, their original deficiencies in matériel have been enormous; sometimes, as in the case of the Japanese against the Russians, they have started with a superiority (more or less) in materiel, but the eternal verity of 'fitness to win' is at once obvious if we imagine sides to have been changed. We can be quite sure that the Russians would never have won, would never have had any more success, had they changed fleets and positions with the Japanese. We can produce nothing to show that the invasion of Korea would not then have been the invasion of Japan, and the siege of Port Arthur the siege of Sassebo, and the voyage of the (Japanese manned) Baltic Fleet one long demonstration of the 'silent resistless pressure of Sea Power.' This we know, because with the best will in the world we cannot logically conceive of any other result. But if we ask ourselves Why? we certainly cannot give a clear and direct answer, we can do little if anything more than answer 'Because the Japanese were Japanese—because the Russians were Russians.'
Allowing that; can we draw any real lessons of value from what the Japanese did with Japanese ships? As suggested in an earlier chapter, if Togo and his men had changed fleets and positions with Rogestvensky and his men the lessons of Tsushima would be the exact opposite of what they now are; and in similar case the lessons of Trafalgar. No one can prove this logically, but no one is likely to try to ​prove it otherwise. It might indeed be argued that Togo would never have been caught in the formation in which Rogestvensky was discovered, but this is not easy to prove. Rogestvensky's formation, supposing (as there is every reason to suppose) that he expected torpedo attack only, was not a bad formation at all and it is not easy to conceive of Togo, with Rogestvensky's general orders and with Rogestvensky's special problems to be solved, doing anything very materially different up to the hour of battle.
Yet we cannot conceive of his losing the fight, simply because we cannot throw away our conception of Japan as the 'fittest to win.' We can arrive at that conclusion in two ways—
(1) By an unprejudiced study of all past naval history.
(2) By the mere exercise of ordinary commonsense.
And so with any other war. While a war is actually in progress we frequently see a dozen reasons why the losing side 'might win.' Every careful student saw ways in which on paper Rogestvensky and the Baltic Fleet might possibly win. It is often impossible while a war is in progress to estimate the 'fitness to win' factor correctly—in part, because it is so intangible a thing even at the clearest—in part, because it involves qualities that only war brings to a head.
Now as to these qualities. A crude desire to 'kill ​the enemy' seems ever to have been a most valuable asset. Nelson, when he said that a good English officer should 'hate a Frenchman like the devil' was very crude, but very far-seeing. However shocking ethically, to hate the enemy with a living personal hatred is undoubtedly a most valuable practical asset.
The Japanese had this quality to a marked degree in the war with Russia—to kill Russians was perhaps the main objective present to every man of them. The Russians undoubtedly disliked the Japanese, but the very contempt for the Japanese affected by Russian officers prevented them from hating properly. As for the Russian men, there are no indications that they hated the Japanese at all. They tried (very ineffectually as a rule) to kill them when ordered to, but there the matter ended. The Japanese tried to kill with a definite object, and the whole Japanese nation was behind them urging to kill.
An instance of the value of the killing spirit is to found in the South African War, which would probably have ended in a compromise had there been no Majuba before it. Some genius raised the 'Remember Majuba' cry and created a bloodthirstiness that had previously been lacking. The cry was greatly deplored by arm-chair moralists, but it won the war. The memories of Iéna, so carefully worked up in Germany, probably stood the Prussians in as good stead as any of the dispositions of the great Moltke; he might plan, but the factor of Prussian hate and desire for ​vengeance was most valuable in the carrying out of his designs. If France ever beats Germany in the future la revanche will go further than any military genius. What Nelson did with hate we know, though we seek the secret of his genius in other and more showy qualities. It is easier and pleasanter to rouse admiration for his tactical and strategical qualities, or sentiment over Lady Hamilton, than to lay a finger on that crude elemental quality of hate and desire to kill the enemy.
To go further back—back to perhaps the very greatest man who ever lived—Hannibal. Hannibal was reared from early childhood to hate the Roman with all his strength. In the power of that hate, over obstacles and difficulties of the most tremendous nature, Hannibal marched to the ruin of Rome and never met with failure till the attractions of a petticoat swamped the single-mindedness of his hate, and he was no longer able to infuse into his legions the desire to kill the enemy as the mainspring of their action.
Capua spelt ruin to Hannibal and his army. Had Lady Hamilton been an ordinary woman there is little doubt that Trafalgar might not have been. It chanced that she was a woman of far-seeing ambition—perhaps the story of Capua was not unknown to her and she had the brain to read its lessons. In any case she never came between Nelson and his fervent desire to kill the enemy, but had the wit to accentuate it. Those 'services to the country' in connection with which ​her claim was so scornfully denied were greater perhaps than has yet been realised; certainly she was better able to have prevented Trafalgar than Villeneuve. Scores of books have been written on the strategies and tactics of the Trafalgar campaign, scores of lessons have been drawn therefrom, yet never a one has sought to pierce through the tactical embroidery and see that the Trafalgar campaign resulted as it did, because a clever woman accentuated instead of diminished Nelson's fitness to win and through Nelson the fitness to win of the British Navy.
It is probable that Fitness to Win embodies little else besides the fixed desire to kill the enemy. Good seamanship, good gunnery, good torpedo, good engineering—all these things may aid it, but apparently all are not absolutely essential. If essential, or in so far as they are essential, the desire to kill the enemy will produce them. If good gunnery be essential to fitness to win, the fittest to win will of necessity be good practical gunners, compelled thereto by instinct, though good gunnery will not of itself make them fit to win. Russian target practice, before the war was as good as or better than the Japanese.
For instance, a few years before the war Russian gunners trained by Admiral Rogestvensky fired under weigh at 12 knots at targets towed at 10 knots through the gaps of a squadron that steamed between them and the target at full speed in the opposite ​direction. The thing would seem incredible, were it not vouched for by any number of German officers who witnessed it. Nothing done by the Japanese could compare with this. Capua, and its share in the ultimate ruin of Hannibal and his army, has already been referred to.
Capua spelt ease, comfort, and relaxation—all things to negative fitness to win. The danger lies there to-day as much as ever it did. Modern warships tend to become floating hotels chiefly by the advent of very rich men into the officer class. As officers at one and the same time efficient and very wealthy are to be found, the matter is somewhat complicated; but as a general principle the outlook of any navy depends much upon how few rich officers it may have.
Moreover the existence of rich yet efficient officers, in the British Navy at any rate, is to be explained by certain facts that recently came to light, when a midshipman whose father was sufficiently foolish to allow him six hundred a year or so pocket money, was submitted to a process of basting till he should come to realise that wealth did not make him different from his poorer messmates. In this particular case the midshipman sought vengeance with a revolver. An Admiralty, presumably ignorant of the existence of such a thing as fitness to win, weakly gave in to an hysterical public agitation, allowed the wealthy midshipman to retire unpunished for his attempted murder and punished those who, however brutal their methods, ​were unquestionably acting so as to preserve the 'fitness to win' quality in the Fleet.
Turning to foreign navies, the French Navy is as eaten into as any by the 'steam yacht' element. Perhaps because France is a republic it takes its own peculiar form. A wealthy junior officer of good family in a French warship is by far the most important person on board: even his captain being subservient to him. Ease and luxury are the first considerations in the French fleet. It is often difficult to discern fitness to win or its absence in the days of peace, but it is hard to see any use for French warships save for the giving of balls and acting as mark boats at regattas. There is not the slightest doubt in the world that in a war between France and Germany the French fleet would be crumpled up and destroyed far worse than were the French armies in the war of 1871. There are brave and brilliant officers in the French Navy but the 'steam yacht' swamps them utterly.
As the French, so the Russians were and are. Charming hosts, delightful companions, with here and there a brilliant man, but 'steam yachtsmen' almost every one. Exceptions do not count: it is the mass that tells.
The Italians are not much better. Lissa ended their last naval war and another Lissa is likely to end their next. Yet the percentage of individual genius in Italy is perhaps higher than anywhere else.
​The United States Navy is in a somewhat different state, but its difference is of degree rather than aught else. The men have little to bind them to the Service, and a man who is a bluejacket this year may conceive that he had better be a dentist the next. The officers are mostly too old to have energy, they tend to be fond of ease and comfort and thoroughly self-satisfied. There are men among them distinctly otherwise. There are fine ships but they do little war training. There is very little fitness to win to be perceived. Yet America is a young nation, and one takes it for granted that there is latent fitness somewhere unperceived. This may be; America at any rate rests confident that it is there.
Of the Austrian Navy not much is known, but what little there is is suggestive of fitness. The same applies to the Swedish and Norwegian navies.
The Japanese Navy is absolutely free from the 'steam yacht' element. It is extremely doubtful whether it excels in anything, certainly before the war it had no very excellent gunnery or torpedo men and the percentage of genius is lower than in any navy. Even Admiral Togo never did much to merit the term of 'genius': no one else was even conspicuous. Only its high average was remarkable. Yet its fitness to win was made evident, as clear as noonday. There remains the German Fleet. In the matter of ships the German Navy is of no great account: it probably occupies the fifth place—that is just below ​the Japanese. There are few if any 'steam yachtsmen' in the German Navy, and, like the Japanese, German officers have few interests outside their profession. They are great people for 'spit and polish,' but this is just an instance of how 'spit and polish' is not of itself necessarily bad. A German engine-room is as clean almost as the gun deck of the ships of any other navy, but German steaming is invariably good.
There is next to no genius in the German Navy: indeed indications of its absence have been conspicuous features of German manœuvres. There is indeed nothing remarkable except a steady plodding thoroughness, obtained to some extent at the expense of initiative. But it is 'thorough' to the core. There is a peculiar business-like spirit, impossible to explain, but of the existence of which there is no question. The Japanese have something of the sort, but not quite of the same nature, not quite the same thing as the German naval spirit. It is, so far as one can judge in peace, the victorious spirit; certainly it savours much of fitness to win, though German guns are weak and German ships are poor.
As an instance of German thoroughness a visit of a German fleet to Plymouth may be mentioned. In that fleet every bluejacket knew, not only the forts and the guns in them, but the arcs of fire of all those fort guns and their dead angles. They knew everything there was to know. It was useless knowledge ​perhaps; but the spirit which led to its study was anything but useless. The knowledge of what is inside carefully guarded forts is of course common to the Intelligence Departments in all navies and to any officer who takes the trouble to read the matter up. The German officers not only read it up but lectured on it to the petty officers who in turn lectured on it to the men.
Knowledge is not fitness to win, but the spirit suggested by the men seeking after knowledge suggests the fitness. It suggests a very keen desire to 'kill the enemy' in the day of battle.
These views about various navies perhaps seem to have been put down with a candour that may in several cases be unpleasing to many. But they are not so much a matter of the navy concerned as of the race. The dividing line between fitness and the absence of it is rarely fully visible till there is a war, because fitness is made up of national qualities, which may in some cases atone for and in others negative the symptoms or lack of symptoms of fitness exhibited by the navies only.
In attempting to define Fitness to Win I feel like one groping for a fact in the darkness. Narrowed down to a 'desire to kill the enemy' it is, as already ​observed, crudely elemental. Carried to its logical sequence it robs many great men of the past of the tactical genius with which history has invested them. It makes waste paper of all teachings about the strategies and tactics that have led to victory in the past; for, the theory accepted, it matters nothing that Rodney cut the line on the day that made his name. Had his line been cut instead victory would still have been his, because he was Rodney and able to infuse fitness to win into his men, and because those men had it latent in them. How Nelson went into action at Trafalgar becomes no longer of significance or even of interest, because the way he placed his ships is a trivial detail beside the fact that the fitness to win lay with him and his men. Having the ships and guns he won as he did; had he not had them, could Villeneuve have won? Yes—in so far as the possession of the necessary ships and guns is part of the fitness, but otherwise No. Rome devoid of any Sea Power succeeded in beating a great sea empire upon the sea; and so, Nelson and his men, suddenly robbed of all their battleships would probably have succeeded still. They would have anticipated the shell or the torpedo, or resuscitated the Roman battleship idea, so only the nation were sufficiently fit to win.
So wild the fancies to which a logical thinking out of the 'Fitness to Win' theory may lead. It is a great deal easier to sit down and say 'Because he made certain moves he obtained an advantage, because ​he made (or is believed to have made) certain others, he obtained more advantages, these led to others yet again, and so, step by step, to victory.' It is all so simple and clear, and there is the analogy of the chess-board to make it clearer and simpler still. It is so simple to point out the obvious road to victory, to say—'Here is the road to future victory for those who will study, not precisely in the same details but along the same general lines and by the observance of great truths that do not alter.'
Though history teem with incidents in which the selfsame path that led to victory with one led to defeat with another, it is easy to get over this by believing in the exception that proves the rule. It is easy to overlook that of two trees, though the branches of both be trimmed identically, one will weather the winter gale and the other not; though both have rooted equally, one is in stronger soil. No doctrine as to the training of branches will save the tree that fell.
This book was begun, some ten years ago, principally with the object of differentiating between the relative value of matériel and personnel in various naval wars. Only gradually did it take its present form, only gradually appeared the idea that under all the strategies lay the main root truth of the 'survival of the fittest test,' that in all ages men have owed victory only to just what prehistoric man trusted to for victory, and that all strategies and tactics are ​merely embroidery about this primal fact. Save in so far as he develops in his men and nation this fitness to win, the leader is of little more account than his officers, his men, and the mass of the nation whence they all come. And the great men of history have been not those who have planned the most brilliant strategies but those who have been able to carry out what they have planned through those below them being also inspired with the single-hearted desire to destroy the enemy. The full possession of that desire has implied caution where caution was required, rashness when rashness was the better way, cunning when cunning was needed; but always because of the fulness of the desire. It is the secret of victory in the world of Nature and was as fully in evidence with battleships and destroyers in the Sea of Japan as with triremes round the Islands of the Ægean in the centuries long since dead. It was as great a power then as now, no greater and no less, since it alone is the eternal verity in the struggle to control the seas.