On War

by Carl von Clausewitz

guns and prisoners have always counted as the real trophies of victory: they are also its measure, for they are tangible evidence of its scale. They are a better index to the degree of superior morale than any other factors, even when one relates them to the casualty figures.

All in all, loss of moral equilibrium must not be underestimated merely because it has no absolute value and does not always show up in the final balance. It can attain such massive proportions that it overpowers everything by its irresistible force.

The psychological effect of a victory does not merely grow in proportion to the amount of the military forces involved, but does so at an accelerating rate. This is because the increase is one not merely of size but of intensity.

If prisoners and captured guns are the objects by which victory is mainly personified, its true crystallization then, the engagement, will most likely be planned so as to obtain them. In this, destruction of the enemy by killing and wounding appears only as a means.

the concept of victory itself, which as we have shown, is more than mere killing.

If in conclusion we consider the total concept of a victory, we find that it consists of three elements: 1. The enemy's greater loss of material strength 2. His loss of morale 3. His open admission of the above by giving up his intentions.

For generals and armies without an established reputation, this is a difficult aspect of otherwise sound operations. A series of engagements followed by retreats may appear to be a series of reverses. This may be quite untrue, but it can make a very bad impression. It is not possible for a general in retreat to forestall this moral effect by making his true intentions known. To do so effectively, he would have to disclose his overall plan of action, and that would be contrary to his main interests.

Since war is nothing but mutual destruction, it would seem most natural to conceive, and it is possibly also most natural in fact, that all the forces on each side should unite in one great mass, and all successes should consist of one great thrust of these forces. There is much to be said for this idea

In a sense, the duration of an engagement can be interpreted as a separate, secondary success. The decision can never be reached too soon to suit the winner or delayed long enough to suit the loser. A victory is greater for having been gained quickly; defeat is compensated for by having been long postponed.

The decision can never be reached too soon to suit the winner or delayed long enough to suit the loser. A victory is greater for having been gained quickly; defeat is compensated for by having been long postponed.

flank and rear attacks as a rule affect the consequences of the outcome more favorably than they do the decision itself.

The effect of surprise is always heightened if it takes place in flank or rear; in the critical phase of victory an army is strung out and dispersed, and less capable of dealing with it. At the beginning, while the troops are still concentrated and always prepared for such an eventuality, an attack in flank or rear would carry relatively little weight; during the last moments of an engagement it will mean a great deal more.

At the beginning, while the troops are still concentrated and always prepared for such an eventuality, an attack in flank or rear would carry relatively little weight; during the last moments of an engagement it will mean a great deal more.

in operations on the flank or rear, where effectiveness almost defies precise calculation because moral effects become dominant, boldness and daring are given fullest scope.

For on closely examining the tactical progress of an engagement it becomes obvious that, up to its very end, the results of each of the subsidiary engagements are only suspended verdicts, which not only may be revoked by the final outcome, but may be turned into their very opposites.

If the final result turns out to be in our favor, if we manage to recapture battlefield and trophies from the enemy, then all the forces that these have cost him will turn out to the credit of our account; our earlier defeat becomes a stepping-stone to greater triumph. The most brilliant military exploits, which in victory would have meant so much to the enemy that he could have ignored their cost, now leave him with nothing but remorse over the strength thus sacrificed. The magic of victory and the curse of defeat can change the specific gravity of the elements of battle.

it is better to retrieve a losing battle (provided it is sufficiently important) before its close, rather than fight a second engagement later on.

It does frequently happen in war, however, that forces meant to fight in concert have to be placed so far apart that, while their conjunction in battle remains the primary intention, the possibility of seperate action has also to be considered. Such a deployment is therefore strategic.

It is obvious that this is a constantly recurring type of operation—the small change, so to speak, of the strategic budget, while important battles and other operations comparable in scale may be considered its gold and silver.

Where some degree of complex integration and deployment of the army is the principal condition under which the courage of the troops can gain a victory (as was the case for a considerable time in modern warfare), then the destruction of this line of battle is itself the decision.

In a major battle more than any other type of engagement, the decision to give up the fight depends on the relative strength of unused reserves still available. They are the forces whose morale is still intact; mauled and battered battalions—dying embers left by the furnace of destruction—cannot be compared to them.

The main concern of both commanders will always be the number of reserves available on both sides.

The outcome of the battle as a whole is made up of the results of its constituent engagements; these, in turn, may be recognized by three distinct signs. The first is the psychological effect exerted by the commanding officer's moral stamina. If a divisional commander sees his battalions being worsted, it will show in his attitude and his reports, and these in turn will affect the commander-in-chief's decisions.

The impressions made on the mind of the commander-in-chief will easily accumulate even against his better judgment.

Therefore so long as a commander has more reserves than his enemy, he will not give up even though the battle shows signs of going badly. But once his reserves start to become weaker than the enemy's, the end is a foregone conclusion.

Just how a general arrives at a correct estimate of the ratio of reserves on each side is a matter of skill and experience,

Even this is not yet the real moment of decision: an answer that emerges only gradually is not the proper catalyst for that; it can not do more than broadly influence the ultimate decision which will in turn be triggered off by immediate considerations. Of these there are two that recur constantly: a threat to the line of retreat and the approach of night.

If every new turn in the course of the battle implies a growing threat to the line of retreat, and if reserves have been reduced to the point at which they can no longer relieve the pressure, there is no other solution than to submit to fate, and to save, by means of an orderly retreat, all that would be lost by further delay and scattered through flight and defeat.

On the victor's side, however, all these factors only serve to increase the scope of his courage. So what happens is that the loser's scale falls much further below the original line of equilibrium than the winner's scale rises above it. That is why, in considering the effects of a victory, we are particularly interested in those that manifest themselves on the losing side.

A major battle, in all ages and under whatever conditions, has never been fought as an extemporaneous, unexpected, or meaningless discharge of military duty. It is a grandiose event, well above the run of daily life, partly on its own merits and partly because the commander has so planned it in order to raise the general psychological tension. The higher the degree of suspense concerning the outcome of the issue, the greater its effect will be.

The higher the degree of suspense concerning the outcome of the issue, the greater its effect will be.

Those who have never been through a serious defeat will naturally find it hard to form a vivid and thus altogether true picture of it: abstract concepts of this or that minor loss will never match the reality of a major defeat. The matter is worth closer examination.

What is worse, the sense of being beaten is not a mere nightmare that may pass; it has become a palpable fact that the enemy is stronger. It is a fact for which the reasons may have lain too deep to be predictable at the outset, but it emerges clearly and convincingly in the end.

if the winner presses on in search of greater prizes and greater glory, only an outstanding commander and an army filled with military spirit, steeled and tempered in numerous campaigns, will be able to keep the swollen torrent of power within bounds and to slow its tide by making small but frequent stands until the force of victory has run its course and spent itself.

All war presupposes human weakness, and seeks to exploit it.

we certainly do not suggest that the effects of a major defeat can gradually be wiped out altogether. The forces and the means employed to restore the situation could have been used for a positive purpose;

But in general it remains true that great battles are fought only to destroy the enemy's forces, and that the destruction of these forces can be accomplished only by a major battle.

Battle is the bloodiest solution. While it should not simply be considered as mutual murder—its effect, as we shall see in the next chapter, is rather a killing of the enemy's spirit than of his men—it is always true that the character of battle, like its name, is slaughter [Schlacht], and its price is blood. As a human being the commander will recoil from it.

The fact that slaughter is a horrifying spectacle must make us take war more seriously, but not provide an excuse for gradually blunting our swords in the name of humanity. Sooner or later someone will come along with a sharp sword and hack off our arms.

There is then no factor in war that rivals the battle in importance; and the greatest strategic skill will be displayed in creating the right ^conditions for it, choosing the right place, time and line of advance, and making the fullest use of its results.

The preparations leading up to victory are a most difficult task, and one for which the strategist seldom receives due credit. His hour of glory and praise comes when he exploits his victory.

Meanwhile, what remains true under all imaginable conditions is that no victory will be effective without pursuit; and no matter how brief the exploitation of victory, it must always go further than an immediate follow-up.

Normally both sides are already physically tired when they go into battle, since the movements directly preceding an engagement are usually of a very strenuous kind.

Moreover the winning side is in almost as much disorder and confusion as the losers, and will, therefore, have to pause so that order can be restored,

so it happens that for purely human reasons less is achieved than was possible. What does get accomplished is due to the supreme commander's ambition, energy, and quite possibly his callousness.

Night affords the loser either the immediate opportunity to rest and reassemble, or a headstart if he chooses to continue the retreat under cover of darkness.

pursuit is now one of the victor's main concerns,

The battle of Borodino, like that of Bautzen, is therefore among those that were never completely fought out. At Bautzen, the defeated party chose to leave the battlefield early; at Borodino, the victor chose to content himself with only a partial victory—not because he thought the issue was still in doubt, but because a total victory would have cost him more than he was able to pay.

the importance of the victory is chiefly determined by the vigor with which the immediate pursuit is carried out. In other words, pursuit makes up the second act of the victory and in many cases is more important than the first. Strategy at this point draws near to tactics in order to receive the completed assignment from it; and its first exercise of authority is to demand that the victory should really be complete.

Such minor engagements, carefully prepared and carried out, in which the defeated army, being on the defensive, is able to reap the benefit of the terrain, are the very means of starting a recovery in the morale of the troops.