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command culture
Command Culture
Officer Education in the U.S. Army
and the German Armed Forces, 1901–1940,
and the Consequences for World War II

Jörg Muth

University of North Texas Press

Denton, Texas
 ©2011 Jörg Muth

All rights reserved.

Printed in the United States of America.

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Permissions:
University of North Texas Press
1155 Union Circle #311336
Denton, TX 76203-5017

The paper used in this book meets the minimum requirements of the American
National Standard for Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials,
z39.48.1984. Binding materials have been chosen for durability.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Muth, Jörg, 1967-

Command culture : officer education in the U.S. Army and the German Armed
Forces, 1901/1940, and the consequences for World War II / Jörg Muth. -- 1st ed.
  p. cm.
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 978-1-57441-303-8 (cloth : alk. paper)
1. United States. Army--Officers--Training of--History--20th century. 2.
Germany--Armed Forces--Officers--Training of--History--20th century. 3.
Military education--United States--History--20th century. 4. Military
education--Germany--History--20th century. 5. United States.
Army--Recruiting, enlistment, etc.--History--20th century. 6.
Germany--Armed Forces--Recruiting, enlistment, etc.--History--20th century.
I. Title.
U408.M87 2011
355.5′5097309041--dc22
2011011192
Contents

Acknowledgments vii
Introduction 1

1 Prelude: Military Relations between the United States 15

and Germany and the Great General Staff Fantasy

part one The Selection and Commissioning of Officers

2 No “Brother Officers”: Cadets at the United States 43
Military Academy at West Point
3 “To Learn How to Die”: Kadetten in Germany 85

part two Intermediate Advanced Education and Promotion

4 The Importance of Doctrine and How to Manage: 115
The American Command and General Staff School
and the Overlooked Infantry School
5 The Importance of the Attack and How to Lead: 149
The German Kriegsakademie

part three Conclusions

6 Education, Culture, and Consequences 181

Author’s Afterword 213

Officers’ Rank Index 218
Endnotes 221
Selected Bibliography 317
Index 355
v
Acknowledgments

E ven after finishing my master’s with an outstanding grade and pub-

lishing a successful book, support or advancement was denied me in
Germany. All kinds of specious reasons were given to me at that time.
The real reason for the rejections was most likely that the academic
system in Germany, just like in the U.S. Army, as will be pointed out in
this study, has a hard time dealing with mavericks and rejects them
rather than making good use of them.
I owe a debt of gratitude to Ronald Smelser who invited me to fin-
ish my doctoral dissertation—on which this book is based—in the United
States. The present work was made possible only through his invitation.
He is therefore ultimately responsible for providing me with the means
of gaining the Ph.D. for which I have worked so long and so hard.
Edward Davies gave me the welcome that I generally expected but
that I got only from him. He had an open ear for all my problems and
even ended other phone calls immediately so he could talk to me. Thanks
also to Ben Cohen for helping me along the last few yards and John
Reed for the military history talk and bull sessions.
vii
viii Command Culture
In my “early years,” the steep hierarchies at a German civilian uni-
versity would have been unbearable to me without the nearly daily visits
at my ersatz university, the Military History Research Center (Militärge­
schicht­liches Forschungsamt, MGFA) in Potsdam. Here, I was always wel-
come and the academic civilian, but especially the academic military,
personnel, in rank from lieutenant up to the commander of the facility,
discussed all aspects of military history with me, treating me as an equal
and with great respect, even when I was still an undergraduate. My Ersatz­
doktorvater, Arnim Lang, editor-in-chief of the MGFA, helped to pub-
lish my first book just the way I wanted it to be and never doubted that I
would finally finish my dissertation. His encouragement over the long
years was invaluable.
I am indebted to Beatrice Heuser for writing the mother-of-all-
letters-of-recommendation that finally got the ball rolling.
Thanks to Roger Cirillo for getting me started when I arrived in the
United States for my first research trip. The advice, literature, and con-
tacts he gave me were priceless and long lasting.
Gerhard Weinberg and Edward Coffman have never hesitated to
give me most valuable professional counsel when I asked for it and relent-
lessly wrote letters of recommendation for me. The latter are one of the
banes of the academic system and utterly useless unless the writer is per-
sonally known to the addressee, which is rarely the case. Both men, how-
ever, were always gracious to me and never made me feel any dependency.
It is a sad fact that whenever I finish a book one of those individu-
als who lent me major support did not live to see the finished product
because he died. Before the publication of my first book, my good friend
Rolf Wiemer died and this time it was Charles Kirkpatrick, an expert on
the U.S. Army and its officer corps, with whom I had a lively email
exchange until his untimely death. Charles gave me priceless advice,
answered all my questions with great patience, and his eagerness to read
my finished study was an honor to me. It is my great wish and hope that
I will finally reach a position where I can concentrate on writing a book
in a timeframe where every contributor will still be able to read it.
A great thanks to Walter Hudson for vouching for me and getting
me established at Fort Leavenworth.
 Acknowledgments ix

Thank you to Robert Black, Darla Thompson, Elizabeth Merrifield,

Paul Barron, Peggy Stelpflug, Alan Aimone, Iris Thompson, Oliver Sander,
Wilson Heefner, Casey Madrick, Tino Tolonen, Lewis Sorley, Alicia Mauldin,
and Lynn Beahm for helping me with the photos for the book.
I am very grateful to past and present friends and colleagues of the
advisory board of H-War and the editors. They have always treated me with
the greatest professionalism, courtesy, and kindness. Their regard was espe-
cially precious because these things were in short supply elsewhere.
I am indebted to Craig Baker, my boss at Blue Coat Systems. He always
had an understanding of my insane work schedule and he let me do my
job at Blue Coat with the greatest latitude and flexibility. His support
was so important to me and the completion of this book that he should
be named the honorary sixth member of my Ph.D. committee.
Many thanks to my good friend Janet Valentine for the opportuni-
ties and for always showing true multicultural understanding for her odd
German colleague.
Keith Pinney, Julie Scott, and the staff of the Cross Culture Club
are an invaluable asset to the international students at the University of
Utah and make life in Utah bearable for them. I am very grateful for the
good times in the house of the CCC.
Thanks to my best friend, Michael “Bakerman” Sanetra, for unwav-
ering phone calls and making me laugh in the darkest times.
The book is dedicated to my parents, Annemarie and Ernst Muth,
whom I have not seen in four-and-a-half years.

The German Historical Institute made it possible for me to con-

duct research at the National Archives II, College Park, Maryland; the
Dwight D. Eisenhower Presidential Library, Abilene, Kansas; the Harry S.
Truman Library, Independence, Missouri; and the Combined Arms Re-
search Library, Fort Leavenworth, Kansas.
At the National Archives II, I was rendered great support and assis-
tance by Timothy Nenninger, Robin Cookson, Larry MacDonald, and
Les Waffen.
At the Eisenhower Library, David Haight acted as my “personal” archi-
vist with great knowledge and dedication. His help and determination
x Command Culture
beyond the call of duty even opened the gates to another library whose
leadership had stubbornly refused me access to its special archives col-
lection with the ridiculous excuse that I was a “civilian.”
The United States Military Academy’s History Department hon-
ored me by selecting me as a fellow for its annual military history summer
seminar. The ample and gracious stipend I received enabled me to con-
duct research at the Special Archives Collection of the West Point Library
with the knowledgeable assistance of Alan Aimone.
I am grateful to the Department of History of the University of Utah
for awarding me the Burton Fellowship and getting me a teaching assis-
tantship for the last year of my dissertation. The anonymous donor of
the fellowship provided me with an additional travel and research grant,
which came at a time when it was badly needed. I am much obliged to
him or her.
I am indebted to the United States Army Military History Institute
for awarding me the Matthew B. Ridgway Research Grant that enabled me
to conduct research at its facility in Carlisle, Pennsylvania. Rich Baker
was instrumental in making my research productive. It was not inten-
tional, but is only fitting, that Matthew Ridgway is now on the cover of
this book.
The most amazing financial support came from the George C.
Marshall Foundation when it awarded me the prestigious George C.
Marshall/Baruch Fellowship. It allowed me to dig up incredible mate-
rial, for once without suffering financial hardships for the trip. I am
grateful to Paul Barron for all his support during my stay and Wesley
Taylor, former president of the George C. Marshall Foundation, for
saying the right words at the right time.
As I have diligently researched, I have tried to diligently name every-
body who helped me. Because of the long years over which this project
stretched and the many moves from location to location, it is possible
that I have lost notes. Those who would like to appear here or in the foot-
notes when a new edition is printed may send me an email to jmuth@
gmx.net.
Introduction

“He who has not fought the Germans does not know war.”
—British military aphorism1

D uring the course of World War II, the supreme commander of the
Allied forces, General Dwight David Eisenhower, USMA 1915, had
already resolved that he would not write his account of the events but leave
that to historians and those who were compelled to justify themselves.
Directly after the war’s conclusion, however, various Allied command­
ers stepped into the limelight and criticized in interviews and publications
the American war effort and the leadership of the U.S. officer corps,
which irked the Americans greatly. Walter Bedell Smith, Eisenhower’s close
friend and former chief of staff, tried to persuade him to write his account
and pub­lished some articles in newspapers explaining and justifying some
of Ike’s decisions during the war.2 Much later they were bundled together
into a book.3
Another book, although written by an officer who barely had com­
manded anything, heavily criticized several American officers for their
conduct and lack of leadership during the war, especially General Mark
Wayne Clark, USMA 1917, Ike’s friend and the commander of the Fifth
Army in Italy.4 The author, Captain Harry C. Butcher, was designated
1
2 Command Culture
as the Supreme Commander’s “naval aide” by General George Catlett
Marshall, VMI 1901, then chief of staff of the army, who sensed cor­
rectly that, be­cause of the heavy burden of responsibility Eisenhower
carried, he might occasionally need a friend to talk to who had no real
place in the chain of command. In the theaters of war, Butcher was
often seen by field commanders as a nuisance because he roamed
around and assumed authority he did not really possess, but it was well
known that he had the ear of Eisenhower. Though on the “suggestion”
of Ike, Butcher erased some sharp criticism from his book, the final
product was still somewhat harsh on a number of commanders.5
Adding to the finger pointing about conduct and leadership was
the publication of George Smith Patton’s, USMA 1909, manuscript of
his wartime thoughts. It was never intended for publication in this form
but could not be revised or edited because Patton died in a car accident
in 1945.6 His widow deemed the thoughts of her late husband neverthe­
less so important that the manuscript was made public. Patton’s critique
of and sometimes ranting about allied commanders and his fellow offi­
cers proved just as harsh as Butcher’s, but Patton’s success as a combat
commander and his personal ties with many U.S. and Allied command­
ers greatly enhanced his critical evaluations. The bickering among the
former commanders persuaded Eisenhower to publish his own account,
which remains one of the most balanced views of World War II from the
American side at the operational and strategic level.7
The argument moved briefly to a new stage when in 1946 con­
gressmen from Texas forced Mark W. Clark to testify in front of a com­
mittee regarding his orders to the 36th Infantry Division—a former
Texas National Guard outfit—to cross the Rapido River. This operation,
conducted January 20 to 22, 1944, attempted to relieve pressure on the
troubled Anzio beachhead in Italy yet resulted only in very heavy casu­
alties and no gain. Still, few doubted that Eisenhower’s close friend and
now victorious army commander would be exonerated.
In the same year, the Senate Special Committee to Investigate the
National Defense Program published its report on the nation’s mobiliza­
tion effort for the last war. Though the report did not get much publicity,
 Introduction 3

the criticism leveled was harsh and it determined that the United States
armed forces lacked a personnel selection system that rewarded “the alert,
the intelligent, and the farsighted,” and punished “the careless, the stu­
pid, and the wasteful. Such a system is particularly essential in the higher
echelons of the armed forces.”8
Such brief public episodes followed rather self-serving accounts by
American generals to explain their important contributions to the war
effort and to pay old debts, but there were no other firestorms or further
harsh critiques because after all, the Americans had won the war.9
A new controversy broke this silence when British Field Marshal
Sir Bernard Law Montgomery published his memoirs in 1958, enhanc­
ing his own value and diminishing the leadership abilities of American
generals.10 The discussion remained largely to journalists and former gen­
erals because no military historian had dealt thoroughly and critically with
the leadership of American commanders until noted military historian
Russell Weigley published his still influential classic, Eisenhower’s Lieu­
tenants, in 1981.11 He stated that caution on the side of the American lead­
ership prolonged operations and that “more genuinely offensive-minded
planning” would have helped in gaining objectives earlier.12 Weigley noted
that American commanders often complained about the lack of aggres­
siveness of their soldiers yet he never made explicit the connection with
the lack of aggressive leadership in the U.S. Army. Troops fight the way
they are led. The military historian observed correctly that when a com­
mander showed ferociousness or wanted to put “unrelenting pressure” on
the enemy he usually had to do so “despite every discouragement from his
superiors.”13 To make matters worse, often “the cautious American gen­
erals expected equal caution from the enemy.”14 Weigley concluded that
American generals relied primarily on superior material resources and
that “a bolder generalship might have shortened the war.”15 The military
historian had read widely through the papers of wartime leaders to come
to this conclusion and his assessment is echoed by other American offi­
cers who decried the “lack of energetic command” of higher officers.16
Only one year later Martin van Creveld published his classic account
of the German and American armies, comparing their Fighting Power.17
4 Command Culture
Van Creveld used for the time ingenious methods in his study and while
some of his findings have been proven incorrect by recent research, much
of it has stood the test of time. The author stated that “the American
officer corps of World War II was less than mediocre.”18 He continued,
saying that “those who did command at the front were, as the official
history frankly admits and the casualty figures confirm, often guilty of bad
leadership.”19 While quite a few of van Creveld’s findings will be verified
in this study, his statement that between the American officers “and
their German opposite numbers there simply is no comparison possible”
will be proven incorrect.20
In 1984, John Ellis published an account on the early part of the
1944 Allied campaign in Italy with devastating ratings for many British
and American commanders conspicuously lacking the essentials for
aggressive and effective wartime leadership.21 Six years later he followed
up with an account on the conduct of operations by the Allies of the whole
war.22 The title, Brute Force, hints at the content of the book. Ellis stated
that the war “reveals the Allied commanders as being quite unable to adapt
their tactics to the terrain in which they were fighting.”23 He generally
noted “a tactical inferiority vis-à-vis the Germans” and that “even when
all that was required was a modicum of speed and determination, to finish
off a distinctly groggy opponent” the Allied commanders, and specifically
the Americans, showed themselves as being “incapable” of do­ing so.24
At the end of the 1980s, Allan R. Millett and Williamson Murray
edited a well-crafted three volume series on military effectiveness. The
books are mostly of high quality and, in their majority, still sound today.
However, some reveal that the education of American officers and its
impact on the performance of the American officer corps has not been
evaluated critically enough and has not been put into context.
Ronald Spector states in his article about the military effective­
ness of the U.S. military in the interwar period that “the entry into the
officer corps—largely through the service academies—was competitive
and recruits were generally of high quality.”25 Two paragraphs further in
the same article, the correct assertion is found that “the problem of offi­
cer quality in the army became acute in 1940 when U.S. rearmament
 Introduction 5

and expansion of the army revealed that many regular officers were of
questionable competence or physical condition for active wartime ser­
vice or higher command.” Because the majority of the officers in ques­
tion successfully completed stints at the military academies and the schools
at Fort Leavenworth, these statements clearly pose a contradiction. They
demonstrate that faculties of the United States Military Academy at West
Point and the Command and General Staff School at Fort Leavenworth
consistently portray their teaching as excellent, yet the end product re­
mained mediocre. This study will shed some light on the issue that has
haunted the U.S. Army for decades.
In the last volume of the series, Allan R. Millet assesses the mili­
tary effectiveness of the U.S. Army in the Second World War. To him, “the
skill of the officers who organized, equipped, trained, and led” the Amer­
ican soldiers in battle is questionable.26 The tactical doctrine—which
had been largely developed and taught at the Command and Gen­eral
Staff School—proved “defective in several ways.”27 In Millet’s opinion,
“the American armed forces often compensated for their operational flaws,”
caused by a below average officer corps, “with logistical abundance.”28
He asserts that “army ground combat divisions depended on the advan­
tage of numbers” and that attacks against the Germans were generally
only successful if a 4:1 “local infantry superiority” was in place.29
Seven years later Richard Overy published his still influential Why
the Allies Won.30 It follows Ellis’s basic outline and even uses some of his
quotations to make certain points. Overy, however, wrote a more concise
book. While the author states clearly that numerical superiority was not
the only factor that brought victory to the Allies, he judges the “quality
of their technology” as superior.31 Surprisingly, he also lists the—widely
disputed—fighting effectiveness of the allied forces as an important
point. Overy indicates that it derived from the economic strength of the
Allies.32 Their leadership and command capabilities do not show up as
remarkable. Instead, he remarks largely correctly that in Germany “the
best military brains were at the battlefront, not in the rear.”33
In his concise and influential group biography, Charles Kirkpatrick
states that “the sum total” of the training and experience of the American
6 Command Culture
generals in his study “was ordinary performance.”34 Kirkpatrick comments
also on the rather erratic selection and promotion process in the U.S.
Army of that time.35 His findings are more positive in an article that was
published the same year, but he maintains that the American military
schools were “somewhat unimaginative” and obviously produced rather
orthodox soldiers.36
Karl-Heinz Frieser points out in his The Blitzkrieg Legend that the
Germans possessed a superior tactical—and often operational—leader­
ship, but that ultimately “World War II, just like World War I, was decided
not on the battlefields but in the factories.”37 In an analogy to Miguel
Cervantes’ Don Quixote, Frieser states that “the Panzer operations of the
German blitzkrieg were much like jousting against the windmills of
superior industrial potentials.”38
While the other authors remain more cautious in their statements
than Frieser, no one ranks the leadership and command abilities of the
American officers as a decisive or even important factor in the war. In­­
stead, there is ample criticism of their professional abilities.
Specialized studies like the one by Martin Blumenson are even
blunter in their assessments.39 He states that after the first clashes with
the Germans in North Africa came “the shocking revelation of how ill-
prepared our leaders were for combat and how poorly our system for
producing war leaders had functioned.”40
Apparently no systematic selection system in the U.S. Army existed
for officer promotion, a fact that puzzled historians and even the offi­
cers themselves.41 They were rather appointed to positions of responsibil­
ity because their abilities were personally known to those who appointed
them—in contrast to superior abilities on paper, they were recommended
by fellow officers who also knew them personally, or they had a very high-
ranking mentor.42 Often officers knew each other from their time at the
United States Military Academy (USMA) at West Point where they, except
for some of the wartime classes, stayed for four years and thus had the
chance to get to know not only their classmates but also the members of
the classes who preceded them and came after them. That a cadet will
come to know his “comrades” at West Point quite intimately will be dem­
onstrated in chapter 2 of this study.
 Introduction 7

All division commanders and the majority of G-3 operations offi­

cers of higher staffs of World War II had also attended the advanced mil­
itary training at the schools at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, which became
after another one of many name changes in the early 1920s universally
known as the Command and General Staff School (CGSS).43
Since the United States had doubtlessly won World War II and be­
cause most key positions had been taken by former Leavenworth gradu­
ates, it has been assumed, even by former commanders reflecting about the
war, that the CGSS had been instrumental in providing the American
officer corps with the tools to win the war.44 Several excellent scholarly
studies about the schools basically maintain this conclusion.45 However,
the presence of Leavenworth graduates in positions of command coupled
with the U.S. victory does not automatically lead to the conclusion that
the Leavenworth experience taught these men superior military exper­
tise. Nor can we assume that the Leavenworth training developed the
martial abilities vital for the winning of World War II.
Often overlooked in studies about the U.S. Army educational sys­
tem was The Infantry School in Fort Benning, Georgia. The chapter on
this school points out that it might have done more for the establish­
ment of a certain proficiency in military matters than any other institu­
tion of military education in the United States.
This study sets out to examine the “command culture” of the United
States Army officer corps and does so in a comparative context by incor­
porating the “command culture” of the German Army. This course seems
to be especially appealing because the German military had since the
American War of Independence been a fascinating organization for the
American officers. The Wehrmacht—the German Army of World War II—
but especially its officer corps, has been and remains today an object of
the greatest interest, attraction, and even romanticizing by the American
military and society alike.46 The German officers were at the outset of
World War II considered a formidable foe and they were respected and
sometimes even feared by their American counterparts.
Scholars have argued that “culture consists of shared decision rules,
recipes, standard operating procedures, and decision routines that impose
a degree of order on individual and group conceptions.”47 Even more
8 Command Culture
important is that “insofar as culture affects behavior, it does so by pre­
senting limited options and by affecting how members of these cultures
learn from interaction.”48 This study will work with these definitions but
emphasizes that, though the officers examined here possessed a limited set
of options as a result of their socialization and education, those options
nevertheless were numerous.
The principles of command of an officer corps often reach far back
into the past and they are part of the “corporate identity” of an army.49
“Command culture” is in this study to be understood as how an officer con­
siders himself to be in command, i.e., does he command as a visible per­
son close to the action or rather through orders by his staff from his
command post? It also means the way an officer tackles the turmoil and
chaos of battle and war—whether he tries to make sense of it by the appli­
cation of doctrine or rather utilizes the pandemonium to make bold moves.
This study will therefore also deal with the question of whether the com­
mand culture of an officer corps emphasizes personal initiative or playing
by the rules and regulations. Furthermore, the command culture refers to
how command is understood by an officer, what its purpose and impor­
tance in war is.
Because the culture of command is taught by peers and—as indi­
cated above—especially in military schools, this study will examine the
educational system of the respective armies.50 Both—the peers and the
educational system—can be considered as the bearers of the culture of
an army.51
Before an officer is educated, he has to be selected and commissioned
and it will therefore be examined from which parts of the society young
men came from in Germany and the United States and which path they
had to follow to become commissioned and promoted to higher ranks.
The men of the sample used in this study succeeded as career offi­
cers and all belonged to the regular army. They were nearly exclusively
members of the ground forces. Therefore, when the term “U.S. Army” is
used, although it included at the time this study deals with branches such
as the Air Corps, usually, but not always, the ground forces are meant.52
The same is true for the use of the term Reichswehr, the German Army of
 Introduction 9

the Weimar Republic between 1920 and 1934, and the Wehrmacht, its
successor of 1935 to 1945.53
We will therefore follow largely the Eisenhowers, Pattons, Guderians,
and von Mansteins, though the majority of the present sample did not gain
such a prominence. The officers in this study achieved during World
War II at least the rank of colonel or Oberst but most of them made gen­
eral with several stars.54 They were commissioned during or after 1901
but mainly between 1909 and 1925.
Because the American professional military education was far less
structured than the German, the bulk of the American officers viewed
here attended The Infantry School at Fort Benning, Georgia, and the
Command and General Staff School at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, or
one of its predecessors, between 1902 and 1939, the majority between
1924 and 1939. Their German counterparts attended the Kriegsakad­
emie or its substitute institutes between 1912 and 1938.
When examining the military schools, colleges, and academies, this
study will not concern itself overly with the numbers of hours taught, the
name changes of the schools, and when and why they occurred. The time
the officers stayed there will also have little relevance. Though it has been
discussed at length whether there should be one-, two-, or three-year
courses at the advanced military schools, the practical fact is that the “how”
and “why” in teaching is much more important than the “what” and “when.”
Everybody can remember a teacher from his school or university time
who could inspire even when teaching topics generally perceived as dull
and others who could ruin even the most interesting subject.
This is not a history of the advanced military schools in the United
States and Germany because these studies already exist.55 This study is rather
an update of the existing works adding a different angle and a cultural
component, which leads to surprising results. It points out who had access
to the schools and which process he had to follow to continue. I am also
concerned with the teaching philosophy of these schools, the didactics
and pedagogies used, and the attitudes of the faculty because the main
point will be to get hold of the command culture the schools instilled in
their student officers. Though often following roughly a chronological
10 Command Culture
order, sometimes I will depart from it to emphasize continuities or
important events that cast their shadows forward.
The study will conclude its examination with the intermediate
professional military education in both armies because by then the offi­
cers had formed their command culture. Though the visit to the Army
War College or the Industrial College for the American officers or the
attendance at the war games for higher German officers might have
brought them benefits for their profession, it remains unlikely that at
that time it altered their command culture.
The centrality of the “German military heritage” to the U.S. Army
and the centuries-long relationship between the two militaries make the
German Army ideal to incorporate into the study. Therefore, chapter 1
reviews the connections between both nations’ armies before 1901 as
well as some aspects of World War I. The chapter also points out the mis­
perceptions visiting American officers got through their observation of
German military institutions, maneuvers, and wars. Following 1901, the
U.S. Army undertook major reforms after the German Army had been
closely studied—and largely misunderstood. The scope of the study ends
in 1940 with the United States seriously gearing up for war and the edu­
cational patterns used for decades dissolving. One year earlier, Germany
experienced similar changes when it prepared to invade Poland.
Chapter 2 examines the United States Military Academy (USMA)
at West Point and the way cadets were selected and educated at this insti­
tution. In the following text, the United States Military Academy usu­
ally appears as “West Point” or “the Academy” or its abbreviation, USMA.
There will be no attempt to write a new history of this almost mystical
cadet school because many already exist.56 It will rather be studied which
cultural mark the Academy left on the cadet, what he learned and how
he learned. The selection process within the Academy will also be impor­
tant as well as the selection of the faculty and the contribution it made to
a professional command culture of the future officer. Since a few influ­
ential officers graduated from other military academies, mainly the Vir­
ginia Military Institute (VMI) in Lexington, Virginia, and The Citadel in
Charleston, South Carolina, they will also briefly be examined in this
chapter. Though the structure of both is very similar to that of West
 Introduction 11

Point, they are not official institutions of the U.S. Armed Forces.
To illustrate the frequency with which West Point graduates assumed
command positions and to demonstrate the long-standing ties among them,
throughout the text the graduation class of an individual will appear just
behind his name at least once—thus, Dwight David Eisenhower, USMA
1915, or Mark Wayne Clark, USMA 1917.
Chapter 3 pits against these American institutes the German Kadet­
tenschulen (cadet schools) in the form of the Voranstalten (preliminary in­
stitutes)—where boys could enter as early as the age of ten—and the
Haupt­kadettenanstalt (HKA, main cadet institution) in Berlin-Lichterfelde,
which accepted boys at around fourteen. West Point generally accepted
young men not younger than seventeen and not older than twenty-two.
The Kadettenschulen played a central role in the German military
be­cause numerous of the most prominent officers, like Heinz Guderian
and Erich von Manstein, attended them for many years. Though former
Kadetten respected and knew each other well, there existed no such mys­
tical brotherhood among them as existed among the West Pointers. There
are several reasons for that. Many of the Kadetten were processed through
the numerous Voranstalten and when they reached the Hauptkadettenan­stalt,
they had several hundred classmates in their year in contrast to the usu­
ally just over a hundred to hundred and fifty at West Point. There will be
therefore no graduate class numbers for the former Kadetten.
In addition, for a German officer belonging to the officer corps of
his regiment was all-important and carried more weight than having grad­
uated at a certain year from the HKA. Regiment comrades stuck together
like glue and sometimes a clique of a certain regiment was even able to
dominate the top ranks of the command structure of the German Army
for a few years.57
Chapter 3 also briefly discusses the rather complicated commis­
sioning procedure of a German Fähnrich (ensign) because, in contrast to
the United States, most of them were not automatically commissioned
to rank of Leutnant (second lieutenant) after successfully completing the
cadet school. They first had to further prove their mettle as officer aspi­
rants in a regiment and at a Kriegsschule before becoming members of the
coveted German officer corps. There was of course no official Germany
12 Command Culture
before 1871 and prior to this date Prussia and its military was a main point
of interest for the Americans, but for better readability usually “Germany”
is used.
Chapter 4 examines the intermediate advanced military education
in the United States, specifically at the school at Leavenworth, which be­
came more prominently known as Command and General Staff School
(CGSS). Because of the several name changes of the school either the
name Leavenworth school—though in fact there were several schools at
this post—or CGSS is used throughout the text to avoid confusion.
In a less exhaustive way than the CGSS, I examine The Infantry
School at Fort Benning, Georgia, particularly from 1927 to 1932 when
George C. Marshall was assistant commandant and responsible for the
curriculum and teaching at this school. This chapter will be used to high­
light certain points about the American professional military education sys­
tem and it will show how it could have been done for the whole U.S. Army.
On the German side, the famous Kriegsakademie is examined in the
chapter following The Infantry School. Though the Kriegsakademie had
to be abolished in 1919 by accord of the Versailles Treaty because it was
considered a source for German militarism, it stayed in existence in a
different form and in more or less secrecy and with the same teaching
philosophy until it officially reopened in 1935. I will therefore often
refer to the Kriegsakademie when in fact one of its substitute officer schools,
which nevertheless taught nearly the same content in the interwar years,
are meant.
Though many articles of the Versailles Treaty were violated by the
Germans very quickly, none was as thoroughly “circumvented” as the ban
of a General Staff officer’s education and the General Staff “would sur­
vive under a series of disguises.”58 Because the majority of the German
high-ranking commanders of the first three war years had been members
of the German General Staff, the selection and education process for
them will also be scrutinized.
Chapter 6 concludes the findings of this study but is also used as
a crucible to point out other critical differences and commonalities
between the two officer corps. It reveals cultural traits of the respective
officer corps that have been emphasized or counterbalanced by the edu­
 Introduction 13

cational system. Some of these shaped the conduct of World War II.
The chapter will also briefly review what historical cultural mark the
U.S. Army’s educational system has left on the officer corps today, and
how that is reflected in today’s wars.
one

Prelude: Military Relations between

the United States and Germany
and the Great General Staff Fantasy

“The German Army has been busy since the War, as it always was busy
before the War, in developing new weapons or new applications
of old ones, new tactics and new methods of training.”1
—Thomas Bentley Mott, U.S. military attaché to France
at the turn of the twentieth century

“We are indebted to the Germans for this system of teaching the art of war, now
gradually working its way into our own Army.”2
—Annual Report of the Commandant, U.S. Infantry
and Cavalry School, 1906

It has been stated that “no other army in history has ever known its enemy
as well as the American army knew the German army when the Amer­
icans crossed the Rhine River and began their final offensive.”3 While the
U.S. Army might have known a lot, it understood little.
The German Army—and before that the Prussian—has been a
source of inspiration and education and even a role model for the U.S.
Army since it came into existence but especially since the successful wars
of German unification.4 However, because the Americans have misun­
derstood the German culture of war until the present day, the lessons
drawn from it by the U.S. Army often were, and still are, flawed or not
implemented. Warfare is so much based on culture, tradition, and his­
tory that it would have been hard anyway to put into practice the war-
waging culture of one army in another but it becomes close to impossible
when this culture is misinterpreted.5
The first close connection and experience the American Army had
with the Prussian way of war was Hauptmann (Captain)—later General—
Friedrich Wilhelm von Steuben, who was considered a second-rate officer
15
16 Command Culture
in the Old Prussian Army and thus could be spared to advise about mil­
itary subjects in a foreign country.6 The assessment shows that even the
professional soldier Frederick the Great was not flawless in his judg­
ment about military matters, especially when it came to his officers. Von
Steuben proved to be the right man for the job in the colonies and he
did not really teach the Prussian way of war but altered it so much that
it became something genuinely new.
Another Prussian in the colonial service—Captain John Ewald—
noted not only the diligence with which his American comrades tack­
led the military literature but also that they often read translated Prussian
treatises, especially Frederick the Great’s instructions to his generals,
which he had “found more than one hundred times” among the Amer­
ican officers.7
The Hessian soldiers “rented” by the British to help fight the revo­
lutionaries came as Prussian clones, a fact well-known to von Steuben,
though most likely not to the rest of the colonists. The Prussian Army in
general was copied as much as possible in all aspects throughout Eur­ope,
but Hessia’s armed force came as an aggravated case.8 Hessia featured the
highest ratio of soldiers to civilians in Europe; copied the regulations,
manuals, uniform cuts, and drills of the Prussian Army; and was home to
many “unhappy”—and often incompetent—former Prussian officers.9
The Hessian soldiers were not mercenaries as is so frequently incorrectly
claimed. Often conscripts and regular members of the Hessian Army,
they do not fit a historical understanding of the definition of mercenar­
ies or a modern one.10
During the War of Independence, the relations of the Americans
with the already world-famous and legendary ruler of Prussia, Frederick
the Great, remained excellent. After the good experiences with some for­
midable Prussian officers, it is therefore not surprising that the U.S. mil­
itary looked to Prussia in military matters once in a while.
In the current scholarly literature, there is no hint of the notion
that the United States Military Academy may have been founded after
the role model of a Prussian cadet school.11 But American officers at
the turn of the twentieth century stated that West Point “was created
 Prelude 17

upon a Prussian foundation.”12 In the next chapter, it will be discussed

that West Point indeed showed resemblance to a—if distorted—Old
Prussian Kadet­tenschule (cadet school).
American officers travelled relentlessly to the old continent to
observe, make notes, and try to learn from the nearly constantly warring
European armies. Except for the Napoleonic era and its aftermath and
the brief World War I time, a main stop for them was usually Prussia or
Germany.13 Between the War of 1812 and the American Civil War alone,
105 American officers crossed the Atlantic for that purpose and some even
stayed for several years.14 The eagerness to adapt European ideas and
the influx of different military cultures allegedly compelled General
Philip Henry Sheridan, USMA 1853, to comment cynically that “every
time they have war in Europe we adopt the cap of the winning side.”15
There is some truth in his statement because in 1881 the U.S. Army
replaced its headgear, which was then leaning toward the French model,
with the famous German Pickel­haube—the spiked helmet.16 It was not
only the caps though. The U.S. Army took an eager look at the manuals
produced overseas and, of the military literature that appeared in
Europe in 1859, “about half had been published first in German.”17
When it came to battle tactics and army structure, the French Army
still appeared to be more interesting to American officers in 1839. In this
year, the American officer Lieutenant Philip Kearny visited especially the
French cavalry branch and though he had a lot of praise, he noted the
lack of discipline and cleanliness and surmised that “if he were to inspect
German stables, he would find that they kept the buildings and the horses
in perfect condition.”18 This cliché about the German military was obvi­
ously already well established in the first half of the nineteenth century.
During the American Civil War, officers and regiments of German
origin were in high demand and generally much regarded. The battle tac­
tics during that war derived from the Napoleonic wars and proved to be in­
decisive and caused an unnecessarily high number of casualties.19 Prussian
officers visiting and observing both warring sides during the campaign­
ing were less than impressed by the amateurish conduct of a serious under­
taking.20 The information—or rumor—trickled down from the German
18 Command Culture
Great General Staff that the American Civil War armies were considered
nothing more than armed mobs chasing each other. 21 The observation
was later even attributed to the chief of the Great General Staff of the
Prussian Army, Helmuth Karl Bernhard Graf von Moltke himself.
General William Tecumseh Sherman, USMA 1840, asked by reporters
on his trip to Europe in 1872 if he had asked Moltke about that state­
ment, snapped angrily, “I did not ask him the question because I did not
presume that he was such an ass to say that.”22
The survey of the world’s military forces published annually by the
German Great General Staff would not contain the U.S. Armed Forces
until 1896. That the U.S. Army was included at all might have been caused
more by the awareness raised through the numerous visits of American
officers than by the sense that the U.S. Army played any important role in
the world at that time. Even in 1900, the U.S. Army “was still consid­
ered a joke” by many European powers.23 The American military attaché
in Russia reported in 1912 that among the Russian officer corps and his
European attaché colleagues, there was the “universal belief that our Army
is not worthy of serious consideration.”24
That was also the opinion of the Great German General Staff.
The German high-ranking officers’ continuous historical underestima­
tion of the U.S. military would cause the most serious consequences in
two world wars.
Groundbreaking technical innovations like the famous Zündnadel­
gewehr—the needle rifle—were obviously not recognized as an important
individual weapon system and largely overlooked by the American observ­
ers. The obsessive secrecy of the Prussians might have contributed to the
failure of the U.S. observers to notice the rifle. It had been invented in
1841 and was introduced into the Prussian Army several years later. Only
the elite Füsilier companies of the guards’ regiments got it at first and had
to turn it back into the armory after each practice. The visiting U.S. offi­
cers, however, did not have a clue over fifteen years and it is surprising
that those observers from the land of Colt, Sharps, and Springfield showed
so little interest in modern battlefield rifles. After the Zündnadelgewehr had
made its second appearance in the Franco-Prussian War—three decades
after its invention—an American observer finally noted that it was “capa­
Another random document with
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seldom found in water more than fifteen fathoms deep; and even if
the water should exceed that depth, it cannot drag the boat under,
because it is unable to exert its full strength when subjected to the
pressure of twelve or fifteen fathoms of water.
Besides the harpoons, each boat is provided with four or five
enormous lances; the shaft being made of pine-wood, nine feet long,
and one inch and a half thick at the handle, increasing upwards to a
thickness of two inches and a half where it enters the iron socket.
This would seem a formidable weapon, and formidable it is in the
stout hands of a Norse harpooneer; yet, frequently, the iron shank is
bent double, or the strong shaft snapped like a reed, in the violent
resistance of the sea-horse; and, therefore, to prevent the head
being lost, it is fastened to the shaft by a double thong of raw seal-
skin, tied round the shank and nailed to the handle for about three
feet up. The shaft may seem of disproportionate length, but it is
necessary to give the buoyancy sufficient for floating the heavy iron
spear if it should fall into the water. This spear, or lance, is not used
for seals, because it would spoil the skins.
Notwithstanding the destruction effected by the yearly
expeditions of the walrus-hunters, the sea-horses are still found in
large herds in many parts of the Polar world. Mr. Lamont describes a
curious and exciting spectacle, where four large flat icebergs were
seen to be so closely packed with these animals that they were sunk
almost level with the water, and presented the appearance of “solid
islands of walrus!” The walrus lay with their heads reclining on one
another’s backs and hind-quarters, just as rhinoceroses lie asleep in
the dense shade of the African forests, or, to use a more
commonplace but familiar comparison, as hogs slumber and wallow
in a British farmyard.
Such a sight was a temptation not to be withstood by a walrus-
hunter, and Mr. Lamont and his harpooneer speedily disturbed the
repose of the monsters, which chiefly consisted of cows and young
bulls. After slaying their victims, and getting them on board, came
the disagreeable but necessary task of separating the blubber from
the skins to stow it in the barrels; a process which is performed in the
following manner:—
 Across the ship’s deck, immediately aft the hatchway, is erected a
kind of framework or stage of stout timber, about four feet in height,
but sloping down at an angle of about sixty degrees, with the deck at
the forward side: on the other side it is perpendicular, and there the
two specksioneers (or “blubber-cutters”) post themselves, clad, not
in armour, but in oil-skin from top to toe, and armed with large keen
knives, curved on the edge. Then the skins are hoisted out of the
hold, and, two at a time, are suspended across the frame, with the
blubber side uppermost: the fat, or blubber, is next removed by a
kind of mowing motion of the knife, which is held in both hands, and
swayed from left to right. Only long practice, and great steadiness of
wrist, can give the dexterity requisite for the due performance of this
difficult operation. Even in skinning a walrus, skill is imperative.
As the blubber is mown off, it is divided into slabs, weighing
twenty or thirty pounds each, and flung down the hatchway, where
two men are stationed to receive it, and pack it into the casks, which
when full are securely fastened up.
The skin, which is taken off the animal in two longitudinal halves,
is a valuable commodity, and sells at the rate of from two to four
dollars per half skin. The principal purchasers are the Russian and
Swedish merchants, and its principal uses are for harness and sole
leather. It is also twisted into tiller ropes, and employed to protect the
rigging of ships from friction. The blubber is valued on account of the
oil; but neither has the walrus so much blubber, in proportion to its
size, as the seal, nor does the blubber afford so good an oil. A seal
of 600 lbs. will carry 200 to 250 lbs. weight of fat; an ordinary walrus,
weighing 2000 lbs., will not carry any more.
The most profitable portion of the unfortunate sea-horse is its
tusks, which are composed of very hard, dense, and white ivory. This
ivory is not so good, and consequently does not command so high a
price, as elephant ivory, but is in high repute for the manufacture of
false teeth, chessmen, umbrella handles, whistles, and other small
articles.
The tusks are not an extra pair of teeth, but a development and
modification of the canines. For about six or seven inches of their
length they are solidly set in the mass of hard bone which forms the
animal’s upper jaw. So far as they are imbedded in the head they are
hollow, but mostly filled up with a cellular osseous substance
containing much oil; the remainder of the tusk is hard and solid
throughout.
The young walrus, or calf, has no tusks in its first year of
existence; but in its second, when it is about the size of a large seal,
it has a pair of much the same size as the canines of a lion. In the
third year the tusks measure about six inches in length.
In size and shape they vary greatly, according to the animal’s age
and sex. A good pair of bull’s tusks, says Mr. Lamont, will be twenty-
four inches each in length, and four pounds each in weight; but
larger and heavier specimens are of frequent occurrence. Cows’
tusks, it is said, will average fully as long as those of the bulls,
because less liable to be broken, but seldom weigh more than three
pounds. They are generally set much closer together than the bull’s
tusks, sometimes even overlapping one another at the points; while
those of the bull will often diverge as much as fifteen inches.
In scientific language the walrus, morse, or sea-horse
(Trichecus), belongs to a genus of amphibious mammals of the
family Phocidæ, a family including the well-known seals. It agrees
with the other members of that family in the general configuration of
the body and limbs, but distinctly differs from them in the head,
which is remarkable,—as we have seen,—for the extraordinary
development of the canine teeth of the upper jaw, as also for the
protuberant or swollen appearance of the muzzle,—due to the size
of their sockets and the thickness of the upper lip. This upper lip is
thickly set with strong, transparent, bristly hairs, which measure
about six inches in length, and are as thick as a crow-quill. The
terrific moustache, with the long white curving tusks, the thick
projecting muzzle, and the fierce and bloodshot eyes, give
Rosmarus trichecus a weird and almost demoniacal aspect as it
rears its head above the waves, and goes far to account for some of
the legends of sea-monsters which embellish the Scandinavian
mythology.
 THE WALRUS, OR MORSE.
The walrus has no canine teeth in the lower jaw. Its incisors are
small, and ten in number; six in the upper and four in the lower jaw.
The molars, at first five on each side in each jaw, but fewer in the
adult, are simple and not large; their crowns are obliquely worn. The
nostrils would seem to be displaced by the sockets of the tusks; at
least they both open almost directly upwards at some distance from
the muzzle. The eyes are small, but savage; there are no external
ears.
 The Arctic walrus is the sole known species of the genus. It is a
gregarious animal, always assembling in large herds, which
occasionally leave the water to take their rest upon the shore or on
the ice; and it is at such times the hunters chiefly attack them, since
their movements out of the water are very laborious and awkward.

A WALRUS FAMILY.
They defend themselves against their enemies, of which the
Polar bear is chief, with their formidable tusks; and these they also
use in their fierce combats with one another. They fight with great
determination and ferocity, using their tusks much in the same
manner as game-cocks use their beaks. From the unwieldy
appearance of the animal, and the position of its tusks, an
inexperienced spectator would suppose that the latter could be
employed only in a downward stroke; but, on the contrary, it turns its
neck with so much ease and rapidity that it can strike in all directions
with equal force...
 FIGHT BETWEEN WALRUS AND A POLAR BEAR.
Old bulls very frequently have one or both of their tusks broken;
which may arise either from fighting or from using them to assist in
scaling the rocks and ice-floes. But these broken tusks are soon
worn down again and sharpened to a point by the action of the sand,
as the walrus, like the elephant, employs its tusks in digging its food
out of the ground,—that is, out of the ocean-bed. Its food principally
consists of starfish, shrimps, sandworms, clams, cockles, and algæ;
and Scoresby relates that he has found the remains of young seals
in its stomach.
 BOAT ATTACKED BY WALRUS.
In reference to the gradual decay, or, more correctly speaking,
extermination of the walrus, the following particulars seem to be
authentic.
When the pursuit of the walrus was first systematically organized
from Tromsöe and Hammerfest, much larger vessels were employed
than are now in vogue; and it was usual for them to obtain their first
cargo about Bear Island early in the season, and two additional
cargoes at Spitzbergen before the summer passed away. This
regular and wholesale slaughter drove away the sea-horse herds
from their haunts about Bear Island; but even afterwards it was not a
rare occurrence to procure three cargoes in a season at
Spitzbergen, and less than two full cargoes was regarded as a
lamentable mishap. Now, however, more than one cargo in a season
is very seldom obtained, and many vessels return, after four months’
absence, only half full.
 It is estimated that about one thousand walrus and twice that
number of bearded seals (Phoca barbata) are annually captured in
the seas about Spitzbergen, exclusive of those which sink or may die
of their wounds. Some idea, therefore, may be formed of the number
of sea-horses which still ride the waves of the Polar seas. But it is
quite clear that they are undergoing a rapid diminution of numbers,
and also that they are gradually withdrawing into the inaccessible
solitudes of the remotest North.
We learn from the voyage of Ohthere, which was undertaken ten
centuries ago, that the walrus then abounded even on the very coast
of Finmarken. They have abandoned that region, however, for some
centuries, though individual stragglers were captured up to within the
last forty years. After their desertion of Finmarken, they retreated to
Bear Island; thence they were driven to the Thousand Islands, Hope
Island, and Ryk-Yse Island; and thence, again, to the banks and
skerries to the north of Spitzbergen. It is fortunate for the persecuted
walrus that the latter districts are accessible only in open seasons, or
perhaps once in every three or four summers; so that they obtain a
respite and time to breed and replenish their numbers. Otherwise the
end of the present century would mark also the total extinction of the
walrus on the island-shores of Northern Europe.
We agree with Dr. Kane that the resemblance of the walrus to
man has been absurdly overstated. Yet the notion is put forward in
some of our systematic treatises, and accompanied by the
suggestion that we are to look for the type of the merman and
mermaid in this animal. If we look we shall not find. The walrus has a
square-shaped head, with a frontal bone presenting a steep descent
to the eyes, and any likeness to humanity must exist in the
imagination of the spectator. Some of the seals exhibit a much
greater resemblance: the size of the head, the regularity of the facial
oval, the drooping shoulders, even the movements of the seal,
remind us impressively of man. And certainly, when seen at a
distance, with head raised above the waves, it affords some
justification for the fanciful conception of the nymphs of ocean, the
mermaids who figure so attractively in song and legend.
 Dr. Kane remarks that the instinct of attack, which is strong in the
walrus, though so feeble in the seal, and is a well-known
characteristic of the pachyderms, is interesting to the naturalist, as
assisting to establish the affinity of the walrus to the latter. When
wounded, it rears its body high out of the water, plunges heavily
against the ice, and strives to raise itself upon the surface by means
of its fore-flippers. As the ice gives way under its weight, its
countenance assumes a truly ferocious expression, its bark changes
to a roar, and the foam pours out from its jaws till it froths its beard.
Even when not excited, the walrus manages its tusks bravely. So
strong are they that they serve as grappling-irons with which to hold
on to the surface of the steep rocks and ice-banks it loves to climb;
and thus it can ascend rocky islands that are sixty and a hundred
feet above the sea-level. It can deal an opponent a fearful blow, but it
prefers to charge, like a veteran warrior; and man, unless well
armed, often comes off second best in the contest.
Governor Flaischer told Dr. Kane that, in 1830, a brown walrus—
and the Eskimos say that the brown walrus are the fiercest—after
being speared and wounded near Upernavik, put to flight its
numerous assailants, and drove them in fear to seek help from the
Danish settlement. So violent were its movements as to jerk out the
harpoons that were launched into its body. The governor slew it with
much difficulty after it had received several rifle-shots and lance-
wounds from his whale-boat.
 FIGHT WITH A WALRUS.
On another occasion, a young and adventurous Innuit plunged
his nalegeit into a brown walrus; but, alarmed by the savage
demeanour of the beast, called for help before using the lance. In
vain the older and more wary hunters advised him to forbear. “It is a
brown walrus!” they cried; “Aúvok-Kaiok! Hold back!” Finding the
caution disregarded, his only brother rowed forward, and hurled the
second harpoon. Almost instantaneously the infuriated beast
charged, like the wild boar, on the unfortunate young Innuit, and
ripped open his body.
 Here is a description of a walrus-hunt:—
On first setting out, the hunters listen eagerly for some sounds by
which to discover the habitat of the animal. The walrus, like amateur
vocalists, is partial to its own music, and will lie for hours enjoying
the monotonous vocalization in which it is accustomed to indulge.
This is described as something between the mooing of a cow and
the deepest baying of a mastiff; very round and full, with its “barks”
or “detached notes” repeated seven to nine times in rather quick
succession.
The hunters hear the bellow, and press forward in single file;
winding behind ice-hummocks and ridges in a serpentine approach
towards a group of “pond-like discolorations,” recently frozen ice-
spots, which are surrounded by older and firmer ice.
In a few minutes they come in sight of the walrus. There they are,
five in number, rising at intervals through the ice in a body, and
breaking it up with an explosion which sounds like the report of
heavy ordnance. Conspicuous as the leaders of the herd are two
large and fierce-looking males.
Now for a display of dexterity and skill. While the walrus remains
above water, the hunter lies flat and motionless; when it begins to
sink, behold, the hunter is alert and ready to spring. In fact, scarcely
is the tusked head below the water-line before every man is in a
rapid run; while, as if by instinct, before it returns all are prone
behind protecting knolls of ice. They seem to guess intuitively, not
only how long it will be absent, but the very point at which it will
reappear. And, in this way, hiding and advancing by turns, they reach
a plate of thin ice, scarcely strong enough to bear a man’s weight, on
the very brink of the dark pool in which the walrus are gambolling.
The phlegmatic Eskimo harpooneer now wakens into a novel
condition of excitement. His coil of walrus-hide, a well-trimmed line of
many fathoms length, lies at his side. He attaches one end to an iron
barb, and this he fastens loosely, by a socket, to a shaft of unicorn’s
horn; the other end is already loosed. It is the work of a second! He
has grasped the harpoon. The water eddies and whirls; puffing and
panting, up comes the unwieldy sea-horse. The Eskimo rises slowly;
his right arm thrown back, his left hanging close to his side. The
walrus looks about him, and throws the water off his crest; the
Eskimo launches the fatal weapon, and it sinks deep into the
animal’s side.
Down goes the wounded awak, but the Eskimo is already
speeding with winged feet from the scene of combat, letting his coil
run out freely, but clutching the final loop with a desperate grip. As
he runs, he seizes a small stick of bone, roughly pointed with iron,
and by a swift strong movement thrusts it into the ice; he twists his
line around it, and prepares for a struggle.
The wounded walrus plunges desperately, and churns the ice-
pool into foam; meantime, the line is hauled tight at one moment,
and loosened the next; for the hunter has kept his station. But the ice
crashes; and a couple of walrus rear up through it, not many yards
from the spot where he stands. One of them, a male, is excited,
angry, partly alarmed; the other, a female, looks calm, but bent on
revenge. Down, after a rapid survey of the field, they go again into
the ocean-depths; and immediately the harpooneer has chosen his
position, carrying with him his coil, and fixing it anew.
Scarcely is the manœuvre accomplished before the pair have
once more risen, breaking up an area of ten feet in diameter about
the very spot he left. They sink for a second time, and a second time
he changes his place. And thus continues the battle between the
strength of the beast and the address of the man, till the former, half
exhausted, receives a second wound, and gives up the contest.
The Eskimos regard the walrus with a certain degree of
superstitious reverence, and it is their belief that it is under the
guardianship of a special representative or prototype, who does not,
indeed, interfere to protect it from being hunted, but is careful that it
shall be hunted under tolerably fair conditions. They assert that near
a remarkable conical peak, which rises in the solitudes of Force Bay,
a great walrus lives all alone, and when the moon is absent, creeps
out to the brink of a ravine, where he bellows with a voice of
tremendous power.
 The walrus-hunter, unless he keeps to the sea-shore, and the
ice-floes within reach of a boat, must be prepared to undergo many
hardships, and to confront with a calm heart the most baffling and
terrible dangers. He may be overtaken by a gale; and a gale in the
wild remote North, far from any shelter,—a gale which drives before
it the blinding snow and pitiless icicles,—a gale which sweeps
unresisted and irresistible over leagues of frozen snow,—a gale
which comes down from the mountain-recesses where the glaciers
take their rise,—is something so dread, so ghastly, that the dweller in
temperate regions can form no idea of it.
We remember that one of the gallant seekers after Franklin
describes an Arctic gale, and its effects. He says that the ice, at a
short distance from the shore, had in many places been swept bare
of snow by the driving blast; and over the glassy sheet he and his
companions were helplessly carried along before the gale. The dogs,
seldom stretching their traces, ran howling in front of the sledges,
which pressed upon their heels.
Wild was the scene, and dark. The moon had sunk far behind the
snow-shrouded mountains, and the travellers had no other light than
the shimmer of stars. The deep shadows of the cliffs, towering a
thousand feet above their heads, lay heavily upon them, and
enhanced the midnight gloom. The patches of snow clinging to the
sharp angles of the colossal wall; the white shroud lying on its lofty
summit; the glaciers which here and there protruded through its
clefts, brought out into striking relief the blackness of its cavernous
recesses. The air was filled with clouds of drift, which sometimes
completely hid the land, and swept relentlessly before the explorers,
as they tottered across the frozen plain.
Suddenly a dark line became visible across their path; its true
nature revealed by circling wreaths of “frost-smoke.” “Emerk! emerk!”
(Water! water!) shouted the drivers, checking as suddenly as
possible the headway of the sledges, but not until the party were
within a few feet of a recently opened and rapidly widening crack,—a
fissure in the ice-crust, already twenty feet across.
 Some of the travellers now clambered to the summit of a pile of
hummocks, and endeavoured to pierce the obscurity. A headland,
laid down on the map as Cape Alexander, lay only a few miles in
advance. The ice in the shallow bay on its southern side was rent in
all directions; while beyond, from the foot of the cape, a broad sheet
of water extended westward. The wind diversified its dark surface
with ridges of snowy spray; while here and there a frosty surf
tumbled in breakers over a small berg or drifting floe. The pieces of
ice lying along its margin were in motion, and the crash of their hard
surfaces could be heard as they came into constant collision. Their
strident clamour, the ceaseless washing of the surface, the moaning
of the wind, the steely rush of the drift, the piteous wail of the dogs,
and all the strange noises and voices of the storm, added to the
gloom and awful melancholy of that moonless night.
We need not wonder that the Eskimos of the Arctic wilderness
are as fearful of a tempest as are the Bedouins of the African desert.
It overwhelms the one with a cloud of snow, and it buries the other in
a cloud of sand; and each demands and receives its quota of
victims.
That seal-hunting should be more extensively pursued than
walrus-hunting is natural; for if less exciting, it is also less
dangerous; and the seal is not only a more valuable prey than the
walrus, but is more easily captured.
The Phocidæ are well represented in the Arctic waters. In
Behring Sea we encounter the sea-lion and the sea-bear; while from
the Parry Islands to Novaia Zemlaia extends the range of the harp
seal (Phoca Grœnlandica), the bearded seal (Phoca barbata), and
the hispid seal (Phoca hispida). The skins of all these species are
more or less valuable; their oil is much esteemed; and their flesh
supplies the wild northern tribes with one of their principal articles of
subsistence.
 HERD OF SEALS, NEAR THE DEVIL’S THUMB, BAFFIN SEA, GREENLAND.
The structure of the seal is admirably adapted in every detail to
an aquatic life. It lives chiefly in the water, where its motions are
always easy and graceful; but it spends a part of its time in enjoying
the sunshine on ice-fields, open shores, rocks, and sandy beaches;
and the female brings forth her young on land.
The body of the seal is elongated, and tapers considerably from
the chest to the tail. The head has been compared to that of the dog;
the brain is generally voluminous. The feet are short, and little more
than the paw extends beyond the integument of the body; they are
webbed, and pentadactylous, or five-toed: the fore feet are set like
those of other quadrupeds; but the hind feet are directed backwards,
with toes which can be spread out widely to act as paddles. The tail
is short.
 The motions of the seal on land are constrained and peculiar.
The fore feet are but little used, and the body is thrown forward in a
succession of jerks produced by a contraction of the spine. Awkward
as this mode of progression seems, it is, nevertheless, exceedingly
rapid. The seal, however, never ventures far from the shore, and the
moment it is disturbed or alarmed it plunges into the water.
The physiognomy of the animal is in perfect accord with its
character, and expresses a considerable degree of intelligence
combined with much mildness of disposition. The eyes are large,
black, and brilliant; the nose is broad, with oblong nostrils; and there
are large whiskers. The seal has no external ears, but in the
auricular orifices exists a valve which can be closed at will, and
protects the internal organism from the water; the nostrils possess a
similar valve. The body is thickly garnished with stiff glossy hairs,
very closely set against the skin, and plentifully lubricated with an
oily secretion, so that the surface is always smooth, and unaffected
by water. The teeth differ in different genera, but in all are specially
adapted for the seizure of fish and other slippery prey, though the
seals are omnivorous in their habits, and will partake both of
vegetable and animal food. There are either six or four incisors in the
upper, and four or two in the lower jaw; the canines are invariably
large and strong; and the molars, usually five or six on either side, in
each jaw, are sharp-edged or conical, and bristle with points. The
seal is fond of swallowing large stones; for what purpose is not
certain, but, probably, to assist digestion.
Seals live in herds, more or less numerous, along the frozen
shores of the Arctic seas; and on the lonely deserted coasts they
bring forth their young, over which they watch with singular affection.
They swim with much rapidity, and can remain a considerable time
under water. They are migratory in their habits, and at least four
species visit our British waters. On the northern coasts of Greenland
they are observed to take their departure in July and to return again
in September. They produce two or three young at a time, and
suckle them for six or seven weeks in remote caverns and
sequestered recesses; after which they take to the sea. The young
exhibit a remarkable degree of tractability; will recognize and obey
the maternal summons; and assist each other in distress or danger.
Many, if not all, of the species are polygamous, and the males
frequently contend with desperate courage for the possession of a
favourite female.
There is not much difference in the habits of the different genera
or species of the Phocidæ; but while the great Arctic seal dives like
the walrus, making a kind of semi-revolution as it goes down, the
common seal (Phoca vitulina), called by the hunters the stein-cobbe,
from its custom of basking on the rocks, dives by suddenly dropping
under water, its nose being the last part of its body which
disappears, instead of its tail.
The common seal has a very fine spotted skin, and weighs about
sixty or seventy pounds. It is much fatter, in proportion to its size,
than the bearded seal, and its carcass, consequently, having less
specific gravity, floats much longer on the water after death.
A third kind of seal found in the Spitzbergen seas is, probably, the
Phoca hispida, though the hunters know it only by the names of the
“springer,” and Jan Mayen seal. In the spring months it is killed in
large numbers by the whalers among the vast ice-fields which
encircle the solitary rocks of Jan Mayen Island.
Mr. Lamont observes that these seals, though existing in such
enormous numbers to the west, are not nearly so numerous in
Spitzbergen as the great, or even as the much less abundant
common seal. They are gregarious, which neither of the other
varieties are, and generally consort in bands of fifty to five hundred.
They are extremely difficult to kill, as during the summer months they
very seldom go upon the ice; they seem much less curious than the
other seals, and go at such a rapid pace through the water as to defy
pursuit from a boat. On coming up to breathe, these seals do not,
like their congeners, take a deliberate breath and a leisurely survey,
but the whole troop make a sort of simultaneous flying leap through
the air like a shoal of porpoises, as they go along, and reappear
again at an incredible distance from their preceding breathing-place.
Hence the name of “springers” given to them by the whalers.
 THE COMMON SEAL.
The Jan Mayen seal weighs from 200 to 300 lbs., and is
described as the fattest and most buoyant of the Arctic mammals.
We have spoken of seal’s flesh as an important article of
subsistence to the Eskimo tribes. Our Arctic voyagers and explorers
have frequently been glad to nourish themselves upon it, and speak
of it as somewhat resembling veal in flavour. Not once or twice, but
several times, it has saved the hardy pioneer of civilization from
destruction, and the discovery of a stray seal has been the means of
preserving a whole expedition.
There is a very striking incident of this kind in the narrative of Dr.
Kane. He and his party had reached Cape York on their way to the
Danish settlements, after their long but fruitless search for Sir John
Franklin. They were spent with fatigue, and half-dead from hunger. A
kind of low fever crippled their energies, and they were unable to
sleep. In their frail and unseaworthy boats, which were scarcely kept
afloat by constant bailing, they made but slow progress across the
open bay; when, at this crisis of their fortunes, they descried a large
seal floating, as is the wont of these animals, on a small patch of ice,
and apparently asleep,—a seal so large that at first they mistook it
for a walrus.
Trembling with anxiety, Kane and his companions prepared to
creep down upon the monster.
One of the men, Petersen, with a large English rifle, was
stationed in the bow of the boat, and stockings were drawn over the
oars as mufflers. As they approached the animal, their excitement
became so intense that the men could hardly keep stroke. That no
sound might be heard, Dr. Kane communicated his orders by signal;
and when about three hundred yards off the oars were taken in, and
they moved on, stealthily and silently, with a single scull astern.
The seal was not asleep, for he reared his head when his
enemies were almost within rifle-shot; and long afterwards Dr. Kane
could remember the hard, careworn, almost despairing expression of
the men’s haggard faces as they saw him move; their lives
depended on his capture. Dr. Kane lowered his hand, as a signal for
Petersen to fire. M’Gorry, who was rowing, hung, he says, upon his
oar, and the boat slowly but noiselessly forging ahead, did not seem
within range. Looking at Petersen, he saw that the poor fellow was
paralyzed by his anxiety, and was vainly seeking to find a rest for his
gun against the cut-water of the boat. The seal rose on his flippers,
gazed at his antagonists for a moment with mingled curiosity and
alarm, and coiled himself for a plunge. At that moment,
simultaneously with the crack of the rifle, he relaxed his huge bulk on
the ice, and, at the very brink of the water, his head fell helplessly on
one side.

SHOOTING A SEAL.

Dr. Kane would have ordered another shot, but no discipline

could have controlled his men. With a wild yell, each vociferating
according to his own impulse, they urged both boats upon the floes.
A crowd of hands seized the precious booty, and bore it up to safer
ice. The men seemed half crazy, they had been so reduced by
famine. They ran over the floe, crying and laughing, and brandishing
their knives. Before five minutes had elapsed, each man was
sucking his streaming fingers or mouthing long strips of raw blubber.
Not an ounce of this seal was wasted!
The intestines found their way into the soup-kettles without any
observance of the preliminary home-processes. The cartilaginous
parts of the fore-flippers were cut off in the mêlée, and passed round
for the operation of chewing; and even the liver, warm and raw as it
was, bade fair to be eaten before it had seen the pot. That night, on
the large halting-floe to which, in contempt of the dangers of drifting,