If we ask, first of all, for the object upon which the whole effort of
War is to be directed, in order that it may suffice for the attainment
of the political object, we shall find that it is just as variable as
are the political object and the particular circumstances of the War.

If, in the next place, we keep once more to the pure conception of War,
then we must say that the political object properly lies out of its
province, for if War is an act of violence to compel the enemy to fulfil
our will, then in every case all depends on our overthrowing the enemy,
that is, disarming him, and on that alone. This object, developed from
abstract conceptions, but which is also the one aimed at in a great many
cases in reality, we shall, in the first place, examine in this reality.

In connection with the plan of a campaign we shall hereafter examine
more closely into the meaning of disarming a nation, but here we must
at once draw a distinction between three things, which, as three general
objects, comprise everything else within them. They are the MILITARY
POWER, THE COUNTRY, and THE WILL OF THE ENEMY.

The military power must be destroyed, that is, reduced to such a state
as not to be able to prosecute the War. This is the sense in which
we wish to be understood hereafter, whenever we use the expression
"destruction of the enemy's military power."

The country must be conquered, for out of the country a new military
force may be formed.

But even when both these things are done, still the War, that is, the
hostile feeling and action of hostile agencies, cannot be considered as
at an end as long as the will of the enemy is not subdued also; that is,
its Government and its Allies must be forced into signing a peace, or
the people into submission; for whilst we are in full occupation of the
country, the War may break out afresh, either in the interior or through
assistance given by Allies. No doubt, this may also take place after a
peace, but that shows nothing more than that every War does not carry in
itself the elements for a complete decision and final settlement.

But even if this is the case, still with the conclusion of peace a
number of sparks are always extinguished which would have smouldered on
quietly, and the excitement of the passions abates, because all those
whose minds are disposed to peace, of which in all nations and under
all circumstances there is always a great number, turn themselves
away completely from the road to resistance. Whatever may take place
subsequently, we must always look upon the object as attained, and the
business of War as ended, by a peace.

As protection of the country is the primary object for which the
military force exists, therefore the natural order is, that first of all
this force should be destroyed, then the country subdued; and through
the effect of these two results, as well as the position we then hold,
the enemy should be forced to make peace. Generally the destruction of
the enemy's force is done by degrees, and in just the same measure the
conquest of the country follows immediately. The two likewise usually
react upon each other, because the loss of provinces occasions a
diminution of military force. But this order is by no means necessary,
and on that account it also does not always take place. The enemy's
Army, before it is sensibly weakened, may retreat to the opposite side
of the country, or even quite outside of it. In this case, therefore,
the greater part or the whole of the country is conquered.

But this object of War in the abstract, this final means of attaining
the political object in which all others are combined, the DISARMING THE
ENEMY, is rarely attained in practice and is not a condition necessary
to peace. Therefore it can in no wise be set up in theory as a law.
There are innumerable instances of treaties in which peace has been
settled before either party could be looked upon as disarmed; indeed,
even before the balance of power had undergone any sensible alteration.
Nay, further, if we look at the case in the concrete, then we must say
that in a whole class of cases, the idea of a complete defeat of the
enemy would be a mere imaginative flight, especially when the enemy is
considerably superior.

The reason why the object deduced from the conception of War is not
adapted in general to real War lies in the difference between the two,
which is discussed in the preceding chapter. If it was as pure theory
gives it, then a War between two States of very unequal military
strength would appear an absurdity; therefore impossible. At most, the
inequality between the physical forces might be such that it could be
balanced by the moral forces, and that would not go far with our present
social condition in Europe. Therefore, if we have seen Wars take place
between States of very unequal power, that has been the case because
there is a wide difference between War in reality and its original
conception.

There are two considerations which as motives may practically take
the place of inability to continue the contest. The first is the
improbability, the second is the excessive price, of success.

According to what we have seen in the foregoing chapter, War must always
set itself free from the strict law of logical necessity, and seek aid
from the calculation of probabilities; and as this is so much the more
the case, the more the War has a bias that way, from the circumstances
out of which it has arisen--the smaller its motives are, and the
excitement it has raised--so it is also conceivable how out of this
calculation of probabilities even motives to peace may arise. War does
not, therefore, always require to be fought out until one party is
overthrown; and we may suppose that, when the motives and passions are
slight, a weak probability will suffice to move that side to which it
is unfavourable to give way. Now, were the other side convinced of this
beforehand, it is natural that he would strive for this probability
only, instead of first wasting time and effort in the attempt to achieve
the total destruction of the enemy's Army.

Still more general in its influence on the resolution to peace is the
consideration of the expenditure of force already made, and further
required. As War is no act of blind passion, but is dominated by the
political object, therefore the value of that object determines the
measure of the sacrifices by which it is to be purchased. This will be
the case, not only as regards extent, but also as regards duration.
As soon, therefore, as the required outlay becomes so great that the
political object is no longer equal in value, the object must be given
up, and peace will be the result.

We see, therefore, that in Wars where one side cannot completely disarm
the other, the motives to peace on both sides will rise or fall on each
side according to the probability of future success and the required
outlay. If these motives were equally strong on both sides, they would
meet in the centre of their political difference. Where they are strong
on one side, they might be weak on the other. If their amount is only
sufficient, peace will follow, but naturally to the advantage of that
side which has the weakest motive for its conclusion. We purposely pass
over here the difference which the POSITIVE and NEGATIVE character of
the political end must necessarily produce practically; for although
that is, as we shall hereafter show, of the highest importance, still
we are obliged to keep here to a more general point of view, because the
original political views in the course of the War change very much, and
at last may become totally different, JUST BECAUSE THEY ARE DETERMINED
BY RESULTS AND PROBABLE EVENTS.

Now comes the question how to influence the probability of success.
In the first place, naturally by the same means which we use when
the object is the subjugation of the enemy, by the destruction of his
military force and the conquest of his provinces; but these two means
are not exactly of the same import here as they would be in reference to
that object. If we attack the enemy's Army, it is a very different
thing whether we intend to follow up the first blow with a succession
of others, until the whole force is destroyed, or whether we mean
to content ourselves with a victory to shake the enemy's feeling of
security, to convince him of our superiority, and to instil into him a
feeling of apprehension about the future. If this is our object, we only
go so far in the destruction of his forces as is sufficient. In like
manner, the conquest, of the enemy's provinces is quite a different
measure if the object is not the destruction of the enemy's Army. In the
latter case the destruction of the Army is the real effectual action,
and the taking of the provinces only a consequence of it; to take them
before the Army had been defeated would always be looked upon only as
a necessary evil. On the other hand, if our views are not directed upon
the complete destruction of the enemy's force, and if we are sure that
the enemy does not seek but fears to bring matters to a bloody decision,
the taking possession of a weak or defenceless province is an advantage
in itself, and if this advantage is of sufficient importance to make
the enemy apprehensive about the general result, then it may also be
regarded as a shorter road to peace.

But now we come upon a peculiar means of influencing the probability
of the result without destroying the enemy's Army, namely, upon the
expeditions which have a direct connection with political views. If
there are any enterprises which are particularly likely to break up the
enemy's alliances or make them inoperative, to gain new alliances for
ourselves, to raise political powers in our own favour, &c. &c., then
it is easy to conceive how much these may increase the probability of
success, and become a shorter way towards our object than the routing of
the enemy's forces.

The second question is how to act upon the enemy's expenditure in
strength, that is, to raise the price of success.

The enemy's outlay in strength lies in the WEAR AND TEAR of his forces,
consequently in the DESTRUCTION of them on our part, and in the LOSS of
PROVINCES, consequently the CONQUEST of them by us.

Here, again, on account of the various significations of these means, so
likewise it will be found that neither of them will be identical in its
signification in all cases if the objects are different. The smallness
in general of this difference must not cause us perplexity, for in
reality the weakest motives, the finest shades of difference, often
decide in favour of this or that method of applying force. Our only
business here is to show that, certain conditions being supposed,
the possibility of attaining our purpose in different ways is no
contradiction, absurdity, nor even error.

Besides these two means, there are three other peculiar ways of directly
increasing the waste of the enemy's force. The first is INVASION, that
is THE OCCUPATION OF THE ENEMY'S TERRITORY, NOT WITH A VIEW TO KEEPING
IT, but in order to levy contributions upon it, or to devastate it.

The immediate object here is neither the conquest of the enemy's
territory nor the defeat of his armed force, but merely to DO HIM DAMAGE
IN A GENERAL WAY. The second way is to select for the object of our
enterprises those points at which we can do the enemy most harm. Nothing
is easier to conceive than two different directions in which our force
may be employed, the first of which is to be preferred if our object is
to defeat the enemy's Army, while the other is more advantageous if the
defeat of the enemy is out of the question. According to the usual mode
of speaking, we should say that the first is primarily military, the
other more political. But if we take our view from the highest point,
both are equally military, and neither the one nor the other can be
eligible unless it suits the circumstances of the case. The third,
by far the most important, from the great number of cases which it
embraces, is the WEARING OUT of the enemy. We choose this expression not
only to explain our meaning in few words, but because it represents the
thing exactly, and is not so figurative as may at first appear. The idea
of wearing out in a struggle amounts in practice to A GRADUAL EXHAUSTION
OF THE PHYSICAL POWERS AND OF THE WILL BY THE LONG CONTINUANCE OF
EXERTION.

Now, if we want to overcome the enemy by the duration of the contest, we
must content ourselves with as small objects as possible, for it is in
the nature of the thing that a great end requires a greater expenditure
of force than a small one; but the smallest object that we can propose
to ourselves is simple passive resistance, that is a combat without any
positive view. In this way, therefore, our means attain their greatest
relative value, and therefore the result is best secured. How far now
can this negative mode of proceeding be carried? Plainly not to absolute
passivity, for mere endurance would not be fighting; and the defensive
is an activity by which so much of the enemy's power must be destroyed
that he must give up his object. That alone is what we aim at in each
single act, and therein consists the negative nature of our object.

No doubt this negative object in its single act is not so effective
as the positive object in the same direction would be, supposing it
successful; but there is this difference in its favour, that it succeeds
more easily than the positive, and therefore it holds out greater
certainty of success; what is wanting in the efficacy of its single
act must be gained through time, that is, through the duration of the
contest, and therefore this negative intention, which constitutes the
principle of the pure defensive, is also the natural means of overcoming
the enemy by the duration of the combat, that is of wearing him out.

Here lies the origin of that difference of OFFENSIVE and DEFENSIVE, the
influence of which prevails throughout the whole province of War. We
cannot at present pursue this subject further than to observe that from
this negative intention are to be deduced all the advantages and all the
stronger forms of combat which are on the side of the Defensive, and in
which that philosophical-dynamic law which exists between the
greatness and the certainty of success is realised. We shall resume the
consideration of all this hereafter.

If then the negative purpose, that is the concentration of all the means
into a state of pure resistance, affords a superiority in the contest,
and if this advantage is sufficient to BALANCE whatever superiority in
numbers the adversary may have, then the mere DURATION of the contest
will suffice gradually to bring the loss of force on the part of the
adversary to a point at which the political object can no longer be an
equivalent, a point at which, therefore, he must give up the contest.
We see then that this class of means, the wearing out of the enemy,
includes the great number of cases in which the weaker resists the
stronger.

Frederick the Great, during the Seven Years' War, was never strong
enough to overthrow the Austrian monarchy; and if he had tried to do so
after the fashion of Charles the Twelfth, he would inevitably have had
to succumb himself. But after his skilful application of the system
of husbanding his resources had shown the powers allied against him,
through a seven years' struggle, that the actual expenditure of strength
far exceeded what they had at first anticipated, they made peace.

We see then that there are many ways to one's object in War; that the
complete subjugation of the enemy is not essential in every case; that
the destruction of the enemy's military force, the conquest of the
enemy's provinces, the mere occupation of them, the mere invasion of
them--enterprises which are aimed directly at political objects--lastly,
a passive expectation of the enemy's blow, are all means which, each in
itself, may be used to force the enemy's will according as the peculiar
circumstances of the case lead us to expect more from the one or the
other. We could still add to these a whole category of shorter methods
of gaining the end, which might be called arguments ad hominem. What
branch of human affairs is there in which these sparks of individual
spirit have not made their appearance, surmounting all formal
considerations? And least of all can they fail to appear in War, where
the personal character of the combatants plays such an important part,
both in the cabinet and in the field. We limit ourselves to pointing
this out, as it would be pedantry to attempt to reduce such influences
into classes. Including these, we may say that the number of possible
ways of reaching the object rises to infinity.

To avoid under-estimating these different short roads to one's
purpose, either estimating them only as rare exceptions, or holding the
difference which they cause in the conduct of War as insignificant, we
must bear in mind the diversity of political objects which may cause
a War--measure at a glance the distance which there is between a death
struggle for political existence and a War which a forced or tottering
alliance makes a matter of disagreeable duty. Between the two
innumerable gradations occur in practice. If we reject one of these
gradations in theory, we might with equal right reject the whole, which
would be tantamount to shutting the real world completely out of sight.

These are the circumstances in general connected with the aim which we
have to pursue in War; let us now turn to the means.

There is only one single means, it is the FIGHT. However diversified
this may be in form, however widely it may differ from a rough vent of
hatred and animosity in a hand-to-hand encounter, whatever number of
things may introduce themselves which are not actual fighting, still
it is always implied in the conception of War that all the effects
manifested have their roots in the combat.

That this must always be so in the greatest diversity and complication
of the reality is proved in a very simple manner. All that takes place
in War takes place through armed forces, but where the forces of
War, i.e., armed men, are applied, there the idea of fighting must of
necessity be at the foundation.

All, therefore, that relates to forces of War--all that is connected
with their creation, maintenance, and application--belongs to military
activity.

Creation and maintenance are obviously only the means, whilst
application is the object.

The contest in War is not a contest of individual against individual,
but an organised whole, consisting of manifold parts; in this great
whole we may distinguish units of two kinds, the one determined by the
subject, the other by the object. In an Army the mass of combatants
ranges itself always into an order of new units, which again form
members of a higher order. The combat of each of these members forms,
therefore, also a more or less distinct unit. Further, the motive of the
fight; therefore its object forms its unit.

Now, to each of these units which we distinguish in the contest we
attach the name of combat.

If the idea of combat lies at the foundation of every application of
armed power, then also the application of armed force in general is
nothing more than the determining and arranging a certain number of
combats.

Every activity in War, therefore, necessarily relates to the combat
either directly or indirectly. The soldier is levied, clothed, armed,
exercised, he sleeps, eats, drinks, and marches, all MERELY TO FIGHT AT
THE RIGHT TIME AND PLACE.

If, therefore, all the threads of military activity terminate in the
combat, we shall grasp them all when we settle the order of the combats.
Only from this order and its execution proceed the effects, never
directly from the conditions preceding them. Now, in the combat all the
action is directed to the DESTRUCTION of the enemy, or rather of
HIS FIGHTING POWERS, for this lies in the conception of combat. The
destruction of the enemy's fighting power is, therefore, always the
means to attain the object of the combat.

This object may likewise be the mere destruction of the enemy's armed
force; but that is not by any means necessary, and it may be something
quite different. Whenever, for instance, as we have shown, the defeat of
the enemy is not the only means to attain the political object, whenever
there are other objects which may be pursued as the aim in a War, then
it follows of itself that such other objects may become the object of
particular acts of Warfare, and therefore also the object of combats.

But even those combats which, as subordinate acts, are in the strict
sense devoted to the destruction of the enemy's fighting force need not
have that destruction itself as their first object.

If we think of the manifold parts of a great armed force, of the number
of circumstances which come into activity when it is employed, then it
is clear that the combat of such a force must also require a manifold
organisation, a subordinating of parts and formation. There may and must
naturally arise for particular parts a number of objects which are not
themselves the destruction of the enemy's armed force, and which, while
they certainly contribute to increase that destruction, do so only in
an indirect manner. If a battalion is ordered to drive the enemy from
a rising ground, or a bridge, &c., then properly the occupation of any
such locality is the real object, the destruction of the enemy's armed
force which takes place only the means or secondary matter. If the enemy
can be driven away merely by a demonstration, the object is attained all
the same; but this hill or bridge is, in point of fact, only required as
a means of increasing the gross amount of loss inflicted on the enemy's
armed force. It is the case on the field of battle, much more must it
be so on the whole theatre of war, where not only one Army is opposed to
another, but one State, one Nation, one whole country to another.
Here the number of possible relations, and consequently possible
combinations, is much greater, the diversity of measures increased, and
by the gradation of objects, each subordinate to another the first means
employed is further apart from the ultimate object.

It is therefore for many reasons possible that the object of a combat
is not the destruction of the enemy's force, that is, of the force
immediately opposed to us, but that this only appears as a means. But in
all such cases it is no longer a question of complete destruction, for
the combat is here nothing else but a measure of strength--has in
itself no value except only that of the present result, that is, of its
decision.

But a measuring of strength may be effected in cases where the opposing
sides are very unequal by a mere comparative estimate. In such cases no
fighting will take place, and the weaker will immediately give way.

If the object of a combat is not always the destruction of the enemy's
forces therein engaged--and if its object can often be attained as well
without the combat taking place at all, by merely making a resolve
to fight, and by the circumstances to which this resolution gives
rise--then that explains how a whole campaign may be carried on with
great activity without the actual combat playing any notable part in it.

That this may be so military history proves by a hundred examples.
How many of those cases can be justified, that is, without involving a
contradiction and whether some of the celebrities who rose out of them
would stand criticism, we shall leave undecided, for all we have to do
with the matter is to show the possibility of such a course of events in
War.

We have only one means in War--the battle; but this means, by the
infinite variety of paths in which it may be applied, leads us into all
the different ways which the multiplicity of objects allows of, so that
we seem to have gained nothing; but that is not the case, for from this
unity of means proceeds a thread which assists the study of the subject,
as it runs through the whole web of military activity and holds it
together.

But we have considered the destruction of the enemy's force as one of
the objects which maybe pursued in War, and left undecided what relative
importance should be given to it amongst other objects. In certain cases
it will depend on circumstances, and as a general question we have left
its value undetermined. We are once more brought back upon it, and we
shall be able to get an insight into the value which must necessarily be
accorded to it.

The combat is the single activity in War; in the combat the destruction
of the enemy opposed to us is the means to the end; it is so even when
the combat does not actually take place, because in that case there
lies at the root of the decision the supposition at all events that this
destruction is to be regarded as beyond doubt. It follows,
therefore, that the destruction of the enemy's military force is
the foundation-stone of all action in War, the great support of all
combinations, which rest upon it like the arch on its abutments. All
action, therefore, takes place on the supposition that if the solution
by force of arms which lies at its foundation should be realised, it
will be a favourable one. The decision by arms is, for all operations in
War, great and small, what cash payment is in bill transactions. However
remote from each other these relations, however seldom the realisation
may take place, still it can never entirely fail to occur.

If the decision by arms lies at the foundation of all combinations, then
it follows that the enemy can defeat each of them by gaining a victory
on the field, not merely in the one on which our combination directly
depends, but also in any other encounter, if it is only important
enough; for every important decision by arms--that is, destruction of
the enemy's forces--reacts upon all preceding it, because, like a liquid
element, they tend to bring themselves to a level.

Thus, the destruction of the enemy's armed force appears, therefore,
always as the superior and more effectual means, to which all others
must give way.

It is, however, only when there is a supposed equality in all other
conditions that we can ascribe to the destruction of the enemy's armed
force the greater efficacy. It would, therefore, be a great mistake to
draw the conclusion that a blind dash must always gain the victory over
skill and caution. An unskilful attack would lead to the destruction of
our own and not of the enemy's force, and therefore is not what is here
meant. The superior efficacy belongs not to the MEANS but to the END,
and we are only comparing the effect of one realised purpose with the
other.

If we speak of the destruction of the enemy's armed force, we must
expressly point out that nothing obliges us to confine this idea to the
mere physical force; on the contrary, the moral is necessarily implied
as well, because both in fact are interwoven with each other, even in
the most minute details, and therefore cannot be separated. But it is
just in connection with the inevitable effect which has been referred
to, of a great act of destruction (a great victory) upon all other
decisions by arms, that this moral element is most fluid, if we may
use that expression, and therefore distributes itself the most easily
through all the parts.

Against the far superior worth which the destruction of the enemy's
armed force has over all other means stands the expense and risk of this
means, and it is only to avoid these that any other means are taken.
That these must be costly stands to reason, for the waste of our own
military forces must, ceteris paribus, always be greater the more our
aim is directed upon the destruction of the enemy's power.

The danger lies in this, that the greater efficacy which we seek recoils
on ourselves, and therefore has worse consequences in case we fail of
success.

Other methods are, therefore, less costly when they succeed, less
dangerous when they fail; but in this is necessarily lodged the
condition that they are only opposed to similar ones, that is, that the
enemy acts on the same principle; for if the enemy should choose the way
of a great decision by arms, OUR MEANS MUST ON THAT ACCOUNT BE CHANGED
AGAINST OUR WILL, IN ORDER TO CORRESPOND WITH HIS. Then all depends on
the issue of the act of destruction; but of course it is evident
that, ceteris paribus, in this act we must be at a disadvantage in all
respects because our views and our means had been directed in part
upon other objects, which is not the case with the enemy. Two different
objects of which one is not part, the other exclude each other, and
therefore a force which may be applicable for the one may not serve for
the other. If, therefore, one of two belligerents is determined to seek
the great decision by arms, then he has a high probability of success,
as soon as he is certain his opponent will not take that way, but
follows a different object; and every one who sets before himself any
such other aim only does so in a reasonable manner, provided he acts on
the supposition that his adversary has as little intention as he has of
resorting to the great decision by arms.

But what we have here said of another direction of views and forces
relates only to other POSITIVE OBJECTS, which we may propose to
ourselves in War, besides the destruction of the enemy's force, not
by any means to the pure defensive, which may be adopted with a view
thereby to exhaust the enemy's forces. In the pure defensive the
positive object is wanting, and therefore, while on the defensive, our
forces cannot at the same time be directed on other objects; they can
only be employed to defeat the intentions of the enemy.

We have now to consider the opposite of the destruction of the enemy's
armed force, that is to say, the preservation of our own. These two
efforts always go together, as they mutually act and react on each
other; they are integral parts of one and the same view, and we have
only to ascertain what effect is produced when one or the other has the
predominance. The endeavour to destroy the enemy's force has a positive
object, and leads to positive results, of which the final aim is the
conquest of the enemy. The preservation of our own forces has a negative
object, leads therefore to the defeat of the enemy's intentions, that is
to pure resistance, of which the final aim can be nothing more than to
prolong the duration of the contest, so that the enemy shall exhaust
himself in it.

The effort with a positive object calls into existence the act of
destruction; the effort with the negative object awaits it.

How far this state of expectation should and may be carried we shall
enter into more particularly in the theory of attack and defence, at the
origin of which we again find ourselves. Here we shall content ourselves
with saying that the awaiting must be no absolute endurance, and that in
the action bound up with it the destruction of the enemy's armed force
engaged in this conflict may be the aim just as well as anything else.
It would therefore be a great error in the fundamental idea to suppose
that the consequence of the negative course is that we are precluded
from choosing the destruction of the enemy's military force as our
object, and must prefer a bloodless solution. The advantage which the
negative effort gives may certainly lead to that, but only at the
risk of its not being the most advisable method, as that question is
dependent on totally different conditions, resting not with ourselves
but with our opponents. This other bloodless way cannot, therefore, be
looked upon at all as the natural means of satisfying our great anxiety
to spare our forces; on the contrary, when circumstances are not
favourable, it would be the means of completely ruining them. Very many
Generals have fallen into this error, and been ruined by it. The only
necessary effect resulting from the superiority of the negative effort
is the delay of the decision, so that the party acting takes refuge in
that way, as it were, in the expectation of the decisive moment. The
consequence of that is generally THE POSTPONEMENT OF THE ACTION as
much as possible in time, and also in space, in so far as space is
in connection with it. If the moment has arrived in which this can no
longer be done without ruinous disadvantage, then the advantage of
the negative must be considered as exhausted, and then comes forward
unchanged the effort for the destruction of the enemy's force, which was
kept back by a counterpoise, but never discarded.

We have seen, therefore, in the foregoing reflections, that there
are many ways to the aim, that is, to the attainment of the political
object; but that the only means is the combat, and that consequently
everything is subject to a supreme law: which is the DECISION BY ARMS;
that where this is really demanded by one, it is a redress which cannot
be refused by the other; that, therefore, a belligerent who takes any
other way must make sure that his opponent will not take this means of
redress, or his cause may be lost in that supreme court; hence therefore
the destruction of the enemy's armed force, amongst all the objects
which can be pursued in War, appears always as the one which overrules
all others.

What may be achieved by combinations of another kind in War we shall
only learn in the sequel, and naturally only by degrees. We content
ourselves here with acknowledging in general their possibility, as
something pointing to the difference between the reality and the
conception, and to the influence of particular circumstances. But we
could not avoid showing at once that the BLOODY SOLUTION OF THE CRISIS,
the effort for the destruction of the enemy's force, is the firstborn
son of War. If when political objects are unimportant, motives weak, the
excitement of forces small, a cautious commander tries in all kinds
of ways, without great crises and bloody solutions, to twist himself
skilfully into a peace through the characteristic weaknesses of his
enemy in the field and in the Cabinet, we have no right to find
fault with him, if the premises on which he acts are well founded and
justified by success; still we must require him to remember that he only
travels on forbidden tracks, where the God of War may surprise him; that
he ought always to keep his eye on the enemy, in order that he may not
have to defend himself with a dress rapier if the enemy takes up a sharp
sword.

The consequences of the nature of War, how ends and means act in it, how
in the modifications of reality it deviates sometimes more, sometimes
less, from its strict original conception, fluctuating backwards and
forwards, yet always remaining under that strict conception as under a
supreme law: all this we must retain before us, and bear constantly
in mind in the consideration of each of the succeeding subjects, if we
would rightly comprehend their true relations and proper importance, and
not become involved incessantly in the most glaring contradictions with
the reality, and at last with our own selves.