defence force journal · papua 21 july 1942 - 23 january 1943 lieutenant colonel chris field 37....

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DEFENCEForce

Australian Defence Force Journal

Board of ManagementAir Commodore Peter McDermott, AM, CSC (Chairman)Lieutenant Colonel Ian CampbellWing Commander Alistair DallyCaptain Richard Menhinick, RANLieutenant Colonel Lester Sutton

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© Commonwealth of Australia 2002ISSN 1444-7150Published by the Department of DefenceCanberra 2002

NO. 158

JANUARY/FEBRUARY

2003

Editor

Irene M. Coombes

Contributors are urged to ensure the

accuracy of the information contained in

their articles; the Board of Management

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Front Cover

“Waiting” Flight deck controller

Photograph by ABPH Damian Pawlenko

Printed in Australia

by National Capital Printing,

Fyshwick, ACT, 2609

CONTENTS

3. Tactical Understanding in the Australian Army Officer CorpsLieutentant Colonel Luke Carroll

23. Culture and Organisational Behaviourat Australian Defence HeadquartersNick Jans and David Schmidtchen

29. Operational Level of War JointCampaign Analysis: Allied Forces inPapua 21 July 1942 - 23 January 1943 Lieutenant Colonel Chris Field

37. Capitalising on Military Revolution:Lessons from the Grande Armée’sVictory at Jena-AuerstädtMajor Stuart McCarthy, RAE

53. Reviews

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3

Tactical Understanding in theAustralian Army Officer Corps

By Lieutenant Colonel Luke Carroll

Success in battle depends on a number of factors. Prominent among these are the commander’stactical ability and leadership, together with the morale, discipline and standard of training of thesoldiers he (sic) commands. Success will be unlikely for commanders who do not possess both athorough understanding of tactics and the ability to apply it to each battlefield situation.

MLW 1.1.4 Formation Tactics

In no other profession are the penalties for employing untrained personnel so appalling and soirrevocable as in the military. MacArthur 1933

Australian taxpayers spend millions of dollars each year maintaining the Australian Defence Forceto succeed in battle. In excess of $200 million is spent annually on officer professional developmentalone (Commonwealth of Australia 1995, 2) in the expectation that military officers should be experts intheir field. For Army officers in particular, this ultimately means having sound tactical understanding;acquiring and maintaining the knowledge, skills and abilities that will allow them to apply the art andscience of disposing military force in contact or proximity with an enemy. All Australian Army officersreceive instruction in the subject of tactics throughout their careers, but the exact requirement forexpertise is surprisingly ill defined. As a result, few attempt to particularise exactly what and how muchthey should know of the subject. This is both at odds with public expectations and may be leading theArmy towards the development of a culture of assumption that officers are tactically competent.However the reality of their training may be falling short of that required to survive an increasinglymore complex and demanding modern battlespace.

here is a very wide body of literature on thehistorical aspects of military success and

failure and of the theories of war. Contemporarymilitary issues, of which officer training andeducation form an essential part, are also welldocumented. However the histories and reportsshow scant detail of how officers have receivedtheir tactical training, acquired theirunderstanding and gauged their expertise otherthan through being in combat: where they eithermade satisfactory decisions or failed. The data ontactical training in particular is vague andfragmented: histories focusing towards the resultsof events and the reports generally leaningtowards identifying theory and methods whichcan improve general practice. A significantresearch gap exists in the area between whathistory implies might have helped and what thecontemporary studies suggest is appropriate.What the recent literature does indicate is that

contemporary investigation of officer educationand training has tended towards the generaliseddevelopment of officers. There are few specific,identifiable writings about tactical training. Littleif any previous research has specifically targetedthe area of tactical competence. This appearsincongruous given that “the function of an officercorps is to plan and conduct military operations(and that) all officers must, as the basis of theirprofessional competence and ability, understandand increase their knowledge in these areas”.(Moore 1977, 21).

This article analyses the status of tacticaltraining in the Australian Army officer corps andreviews its effectiveness. It investigates the thesisthat levels of tactical understanding in the officercorps are in decline and seeks to establish thevariables responsible, the ability of currenttraining regimes to redress possible deficienciesand seeks solutions to the perceived problem. For

T


the purposes of the article, tactical understandingis defined as the sum of four elements: technicalknowledge, experience, ability to use a tacticaldecision-making process effectively and theopportunity to practice in a professionallydemanding environment.

On TacticsLiddell Hart (1943, 274) suggests that “If we

want to understand tactics, why begin at the mostdifficult end where the fundamentals areobscured by a mass of details and conditions?”He believes there is a simpler way ofunderstanding the essentials:

Instead watch a boxing match, and a fewminutes reflection will enable us to grasp theprinciples that govern all tactics. Everyaction is seen to fall into one of three maincategories – guarding, hitting and moving. The continuation of this analogy describes

how an opponent ultimately needs to be menacedin two directions at the same time with the resultthat in parrying one blow, exposure to the otherresults. Thereby, “the key formula of all tactics,great or small (is) that of fixing combined withdecisive manoeuvre” (275). This is a particularlylucid device but perhaps risks over-simplifyingthe subject in that the reader may be seduced intooverlooking the “difficult end” of the subject, aconvenient but imprudent indolence.

From a military perspective, theorganisational authority for a subject comes fromdoctrine. Current Australian doctrine containsdiffering definitions of tactics. ADFP 6Operations for example, refers to it as“concerned with fighting on the battlefield. Insimple terms, it is a balanced combination of twofunctions, the application of firepower andmanoeuvre and the control of both bycommanders”. MLW 1.1.4 Formation Tactics(1991) cites it as “The ordered arrangement andmanoeuvre of units in relation to each other andor to the enemy in order to utilise their fullpotentialities”. These definitions can be usefullycombined with Liddell Harts’ explanation butthey also need to be contextualised within thephilosophical structure of war, which iscommonly accepted as having three tiers; thestrategic, operational and tactical levels. Dupuy(1987, 64) additionally identifies what he refers

to as “a hierarchy of military combat” residingwithin the levels of conflict. The componentelements of this hierarchy are shown in anadapted form in Figure 1 and provide an insightinto the framework of the overall battlespace. Thecombat types are described in full at Table 1(page 6).

These illustrations allow initial induction ofthe sorts of knowledge, skills and attitudesnecessary for a leader to competently executetactics, thereby being able to function effectivelyat the tactical level and ultimately having theexperience and wherewithal to operate well athigher levels of conflict. They also allude to itsinherent intricacy.

This is because tactics should also beconsidered the sum of many influences; as mucha product of culture and geography for example,as of operational requirement, military experienceor technology. Van Creveld (1985, 48) refers to arange of factors leading to the tactical flexibilityenjoyed by the Romans including “a body ofofficers who knew what to do without being told,and were capable of passing that knowledgedown to the next generation”. Down throughhistory it is evident that different types of tacticshave been required by different elements of thesame army, alluding to a need for differingselection and training. Referring to Englishinfantry of the early 19th century for example,Fuller (1924, 144) notes that “Light infantrytactics required comradeship much more so thanthe tactics of the line”. S.L.A Marshall (1947, 38)relates that tactics can be “unnecessarilyweakened” through failing to consider the effectsof human nature on their implementation. VonMellenthin (1956, 349-367) and a United StatesArmy doctrinal publication, Russian CombatMethods in World War II (1950, 33-35) bothexamine the “peculiarities” of Russian tactics, thelatter attributing these to “roots in the Russianhimself and in his social order (and) in theRussian land mass”. Similarly, the AustralianArmy documents Infantry Battalion LessonsFrom Vietnam 1965-71 (1988), JuniorLeadership on the Battlefield (1990) and Prattenand Harper’s (1996) Still the Same: Reflectionson Active Service from Bardia to Baidoa, give aninsight into the Australian version of this “tactical

TACTICAL UNDERSTANDING IN THE AUSTRALIAN ARMY OFFICER CORPS 5

culture”, i.e. the Australian way of doing things.What all these examples ultimately accentuate isthat tactical competency is a complex, andpossibly unique synthesis of theory and practiceand of human and environmental factors. A newtactic might thus be either evolutionary orrevolutionary, but in organisational application itwill take time to refine because of the intimacy ofthe human and technical liabilities involved intraining for it in peace and in potentiallyorchestrating it live in conflict.

The Training of OfficersThe requirement for officers to receive

tactical training is thus reasonably self-evidentbut the issue of what, how much and when israther less distinct. Australian doctrine, appears tocontain no direct specification of it howeverMLW 1.1.2 Command and Control leaves littledoubt of its importance relative to the function ofcommand. In particular, it indicates that thesuccessful exercise of command depends on anofficer understanding the significance of tasksrelative to the tactical and operational objectives

of a situation. It is stressed that suchunderstanding “must be fostered from the start inofficer training” with the following points beingemphasised:• All commanders must understand the

priorities and procedures of the level ofcommand two above them and theimplications of the wider plan for those at thelevel of command two below them.

• All officers must know the capabilities ofcombat and supporting arms at the tacticallevel.

• Tactical doctrine must be regarded by officersand non-commissioned officers as theminimum level of professional knowledge.

• Training must enable commanders toexperiment and take calculated risks.The officer training system supports this

philosophy with a progression of courses,commencing with initial officer training, asuccession of courses at Army schools andostensibly supported by on the job training andjob experience in units. But the degree to which

Classification Conflict Level Force Elements Command Level Combat Types “are a matter of” “and are carried out by” “under command of”

Duel Individuals

Small Unit Action (Section, Platoon,

Tactics Company, Battalion) Line Officers

Unit to FormationEngagement (Company, Battalion,

Brigade, Division)

BattleHigher Formation(Division, Corps,

Operations Army, Army Group) Sub-Commanders

Campaign

Strategy Commander in ChiefWar Entire Force

Figure 1 – Relationship of Tactics, Operations and Strategy (Source: Adapted from Dupuy 1987)


Duel Combat between two individuals or between two mobile fighting machines, such ascombat vehicles, combat helicopters, or combat aircraft, or between a mobilefighting machine and a counter-weapon. A duel begins when one side opens fireand ends when one side or both are unable to continue firing, or stop firingvoluntarily. A duel is almost always part of an action. A duel lasts only a fewminutes.

Action An action is combat between two forces, neither larger than a battalion nor smallerthan a squad (section), in which each side has a tactical objective. An action beginswhen the attacking force initiates combat to gain its objective, and ends when theattacker wins the objective, or one or both forces withdraw, or both forces terminatecombat. An action often is part of an engagement and sometimes is part of a battle.An action lasts for a few minutes or a few hours and never lasts more than one day.

Engagement An engagement is combat between two forces, neither larger than a division norsmaller than a company, in which each has an assigned or perceived mission. Anengagement begins when the attacking force initiates combat in pursuit of itsmission and ends when the attacker has accomplished the mission, or ceases to tryto accomplish the mission, or when one or both sides receive significantreinforcements, thus initiating a new engagement. An engagement is often part of abattle. An engagement normally lasts one or two days; it may be as brief as a fewhours and is rarely longer than five days.

Battle Battle is combat between major forces, each having opposing assigned or perceivedoperational missions, in which each side seeks to impose its will on the opponent byaccomplishing its own mission, while preventing the opponent from achievingtheirs. A battle starts when one side initiates mission-directed combat and endswhen one side accomplishes its mission or when one or both sides fail toaccomplish the mission(s). Battles are often parts of campaigns. Battles betweenlarge forces usually are made up of several engagements, and can last from a fewdays to several weeks. Naval battles tend to be short and – in modern times –decisive.

Campaign A campaign is a phase of war involving a series of operations related in time andspace and aimed toward achieving a single, specific, strategic objective or result inthe war. A campaign may include a single battle, but more often it comprises anumber of battles over a protracted period of time or a considerable distance, butwithin a single theatre of operations or delimited area. A campaign may last only afew weeks, but usually lasts several months or even a year.

War War is an armed conflict, or state of belligerence, involving military combatbetween two factions, states, nations or coalitions. Hostilities between theopponents may be initiated with or without a formal declaration by one or bothparties that a state of war exists. A war is fought for particular political or economicpurposes or reasons, or to resist an enemy’s efforts to impose domination. A warcan be short, sometimes lasting a few days, but usually is lengthy, lasting formonths, years or even generations.

Table 1 – Elements of Dupuy’s Hierarchy of Military Combat (Source: Dupuy 1987)


this knowledge is retained, tested or developedhas traditionally been questionable:

The greatest weakness commented upon bymost field grade officers who had served withbattalions in Vietnam was the lack ofpractical tactical training of companycommanders and CP staff…Tacticalconsiderations can be learnt from books,however they will never be properlyunderstood unless they are constantly appliedin the field under varying conditions ofground and situation.

(Australian Army 1988, 6-8)From my observations at the Infantry Centreit seems to me that in peacetime we have gotto spend a longer time training fewerteams…How can we for example, expect aCaptain to be a sound tactician if he does notunderstand intimately the role, capabilities,employment and deployment of his own corpsweapons, let alone understand those of otherArms ? When you ask people who come to theInfantry Centre when did you last fire aweapon or go into the field, when did you lastdo a TEWT and so forth. The answers arealarming .

(Hammett in Australian Army 1982, 104)It needs to be noted that at the time of the

latter comment, a new suite of officer trainingcourses recommended by the Regular OfficerDevelopment Committee (RODC) wasembryonic. Conversely, had the earlier quotebeen in print at the time of the RODC, it isinteresting to wonder about the degree to which itmight have been considered disconcerting.

The Regular Officer Development CommitteeIn 1977-78 the RODC conducted a detailed

review of Army officer training and educationneeds. Its tasks were twofold: to determine themilitary-civilian education qualifications and thelevels of training and experience required byofficers, and to prepare a program to meet thoseneeds. It was a substantial and enduringundertaking, incorporating wide consultation andsurveying “by interview and questionnaire, theopinions of a majority of serving officers in theARA” (Jans 1979, 33). The committee madeextensive recommendations relating to careermanagement, officer employment and training

and education. Many of these recommendationshave been applied. Extraordinarily, some stillappear to be in the process of implementation,largely as a result of the more recent OfficerProfessional Effectiveness Review – Army(Project OPERA). Similarly however, someimportant training and education suggestionshave remained underdeveloped or only partiallyexecuted. A number of these relate to tacticaltraining.

The report proper was delivered in a singlevolume supported by five studies, the second ofwhich, Study Two - Education and Training,examines the philosophical and practical bases of“short and long term needs” in these two areas(Australian Army, 1978a, xiii). Study Two isitself presented in three parts; Education,Training and Implementing the Concept. Thecommittee defined training as “the systematicdevelopment of the attitude/knowledge/skillpatterns required by an individual to performadequately a given task or job” and education as“the development of intellect and knowledge byexperience, study and instruction.” They foundno precise distinction between the two and feltthat elements of each could be contained in theother; the essential difference being that trainingwas perceived as more immediately job-orientedand education more generally intellectually-oriented (Australian Army, 1978b, 18-1). It isthus interesting that tactical issues are consideredin both the education and training sections of thestudy and accordingly in the main report i.e.suggesting that the need for tacticalunderstanding is both an intellectual as well as apractical issue. Conversely, to divide the focus oftactical issues into two areas may have been anunintentional error, one that might be consideredto have dissipated rather than highlighted thesignificance of the subject.

Turning to the two key parts, Part One(Education) contains a particular section which,though lengthy, is of such importance to therationale behind the new training hierarchyproposed in Part Two, that it is quoted in fullbelow:

A distinguishing feature of the corpus ofmilitary knowledge is the knowledge oftactics. The study of tactics involves the use of


deductive reasoning; it is an analyticalexercise which requires intellectual prowessbesides procedural and technical knowledge,and resolution of tactical problems is adecision making process based upon a bodyof doctrine and applied with analysis ofknown or deduced factors. Study of tactics isa pursuit which is, if not unique to, at leastsingularly characteristic of the profession ofarms. An understanding of tactical principlesand a grasp of the procedures used by landforces in combat, along with an awareness ofthe capabilities and limitations of sea and airforces which support ground troops, areimportant components of an Army officersprofessional knowledge. And this is notrestricted to officers allotted to the combatelements of the Army; tactical knowledge isimportant also to the instructional, planning,decision-making and logistical capabilities ofofficers who do not themselves direct themanoeuvre of combat units. For fieldcommanders, and for staff officers engaged inoperational planning and force development,a high level of tactical knowledge is criticalfor effective job performance.

(Australian Army, 1978b 9-18)The same section describes further how

development of tactical knowledge was at thattime effected by a combination of formal coursesand the acquisition of experience. This remains

unchanged conceptually, and thus seemsunspectacular. What is significant however, is theconsistency of observations noted in post-exercise reports from collective training exercisesand tactical exercises without troops (TEWTs) inthe period 1975-77 on the tactical abilities ofofficers. The consistent themes are that a lack oftactical understanding was widespread, officerswere out of practice and a need existed forrefresher training. (Australian Army, 1978b9-19). What the RODC Report fails to adequatelyaddress, particularly in view of the large quotecited above, is the reason why this was so. Suchan omission is both interesting and important.Presumably, at least to some degree, it was aproduct of the enormity of their overall task. Itmay also be attributable to a lack of means bywhich to effectively gauge the precise trainingliability, in addition to the more generallyperceived “need”.

These opinions notwithstanding, the thrust ofPart Two is unmistakable in its operational focus,identifying six underpinning principles of trainingand stating that the purpose of Army officertraining was “to sustain the combat effectivenessof the Army” (Australian Army, 1978b 17-1).The principles that were to guide the applicationof officer training are described in Table 2:

The RODC recommended a continuumcomprising seven courses to achieve the purpose,leading to their implementation (as a continuum)

Operational Training should be directed primarily towards the conduct of land warfareEmphasis in joint operations.

Relevance Training should develop expertise in regimental and staff employment and allowofficers to become effective as soon as possible after taking up an appointment.

Progression It should flow logically so that each activity builds on the preceding and contributesto the succeeding activity.

Managerial Training should develop all officers as efficient resource managers.Competence

Efficiency Training should use resources economically, be coordinated and be integral to careermanagement. It should use residential courses of training only where necessary, andmake maximum use of on the job training, unit and formation training and self studymethods.

Adaptiveness It should be readily adaptable to meet new circumstances and technologies and tocater for the demands of expansion.

Table 2 – RODC Officer Training Principles (Source: RODC Report 1978)


in the early 1980s, and maintenance with onlyminor changes since that time (Crawshaw andReynolds 1997, 5-6). That “study of militaryoperations should be the central theme in officereducation and training” (Australian Army, 1978a7-4) was thus cemented. The courses proposedfor the new continuum are shown in Figure 2using their current labels, including the intendedrank target.

However, within the mass of recommenda-tions handed down and the previously citeddissipative effect of describing tacticaldevelopment in both the education and trainingcomponents of Study Two, the longer-termpriority of tactical training may not necessarilyhave equalled that which the Part One quoteimplies it might have. The continuum of coursesand their sequence removed duplication andovercame identified training discrepancies in anumber of areas, particularly staff training. It alsomitigated the observation at the time that it was“not possible to determine precisely the rationalewhich underlies the current practice for thetactical training of officers.” (Anon 1977, 3). Thereport suggested that further elective studies inparticular aspects of tactics should be availablefor students at the Staff College “who have beendesignated for command”. It further said thatspecial study projects on tactics should beestablished to be undertaken by senior officers atC&SC and that there should be more detailedstudy of formation tactics by officers selected tocommand units and formations, and by officerswhose staff appointments concerned operationalplanning. It recommended that simulation andgaming facilities be urgently pursued and thatthey should “first be available to the Staff Collegeand the Land Warfare Centre” (Australian Army,1978a 2-18). Finally, in order that the symbiotic

relationship between tactics and logistics could befully recognised, it proposed combining the twoin the redesignated “operations” courses withinthe new suite. Of all these, only the latter wasfully implemented and endures.

However, and perhaps because of this, thereremains a nagging doubt over whether the RODCanalysis of tactical training truly had theopportunity to dig deeply enough. The chapter onsurveys of officer attitudes, aspirations andopinions noted of “Tactical Studies”, that “tacticscourses received unenthusiastic ratings”. Inessence, the feedback from junior officers (on the“TAC 1” course) was negative and that frommore senior officers (on the TAC 3 and 5courses) “had too few respondents evaluatingthem to permit specific deductions.” (AustralianArmy, 1978b 16-1). The RODC therefore lackedthe data, the time and probably the expertise todeliver comprehensive competencies for thetraining of officers. Jans (1979, 40) notes that“The absence in the report of complete objectivesand of a full list of key jobs, is not serious,provided it is emphasised (as the RODC did) thatthis is a task which must be tackled later.”Curiously, it was to be a further 20 years andvirtually by accident before this suggestionactually unfolded in detail.

The Crawshaw StudyA more recent addition to the literature on

officer training is the “Study into the Continuumof Officer Training From Lieutenant toLieutenant Colonel”, carried out by Crawshawand Reynolds in 1997 on the direction ofCommander Training Command (Army). TheCrawshaw Study endorsed the validity of theRODC, though was established “to resolveconcerns over the nature and relevance of

All Corps ISC IOC C&SC AOC SOSPCourses

Corps ROBC ROACCourses

Rank LT LT-CAPT CAPT MAJ MAJ LTCOL COL(+)

Figure 2 – RODC Regular Officer Training Continuum (Source: Adapted from RODC Report 1978)


all-corps officer training for Army’s futureneeds.” (Crawshaw and Reynolds 1997, 1). Thestudy arose partly as the result of pressure fromthe Land Warfare Centre where it was felt thatthere was insufficient linkage between thecourses of the officer-training suite and that thecontinuum lacked depth. This ultimately led toCrawshaw, who was about to commence a studyof staff cadet competencies at the Royal MilitaryCollege (RMC) having his terms of referencedramatically increased. The study was significantin that it was the first comprehensive examinationof officer training across these ranks since theRODC. More particularly, it led to theestablishment of a program to compile a fullschedule of the competencies required by officersacross the spectrum of their employment. Thisprogram was completed in 1999 but remains thesubject of ongoing development at RMC.Importantly however, the competency frameworkonly covers officers of the ranks from Lieutenantto Lieutenant Colonel.

A key concern with regard to the CrawshawStudy is that it failed to establish the clarity ofdefinitions achieved by the RODC. In relation tothe development of tactical understanding thestudy is vague and contains no preciseidentification of a requirement for officers tospecifically possess tactical skill. This isdisturbing given its acknowledgement (throughendorsement of the RODC Report) of the needfor operational competence and its drawing ontwo other “more restricted” studies that itidentified as having taken place during theinterregnum since the RODC.

The Millen ReportThe first of these was the so-called Millen

Report carried out at the Australian ArmyCommand and Staff College at Queenscliff in1995. It focused on identifying command,leadership and management competencies forArmy personnel in the ranks from Privatethrough to Lieutenant Colonel. The report wascompiled from data gathered by survey andinterviews. It developed a task model andtabulated the skills, training strategy and formaltraining requirement considered necessary toachieve each task. In the rank of Major forexample, the task list included 140 separate tasks,

but only two of these could be considered solelyand unequivocally “tactical” in nature:• Control the application of firepower and/ or

manoeuvre (Task 22 of 140); and• Control the application of firepower with

reference to the Laws of Armed Conflict (Task 23 of 140).The table of tasks included a matrix showing

data gathered from respondents in each militaryrank group. These responses were shown aspercentages under the headings: Performed,Trained, Difficulty, Frequency, and Importance.Interestingly, the responses for Task 22 wereamongst the lowest of the complete task set i.e.Only 11 per cent of majors thought they hadperformed the task, 10 per cent felt trained in it,only 10 per cent actually thought it was a difficulttask, 2 per cent had performed it frequently andonly 11 per cent thought it was important.Although the focus of the report was not intendedto be tactical, the very low representation ofidentified tactical tasks and more particularly, theresponses towards them are a disturbingindication of attitudes towards tacticalcompetence (particularly as they also correlatewith the negative feedback received by theRODC). This is further reinforced by the overalltable for officer training (1995, Annex B)suggesting that training in Task 22 is required forLieutenants and Captains (being considered“essential” for the latter), but that no trainingrequirement exists for Majors and LieutenantColonels. The only all corps tactics course in theArmy (the Intermediate Operations Course(IOC)) was not even included in the table. Theselatter aspects are disturbing in the extreme ifHinge (1990, 22) is correct in suggesting that “Itis at these rank levels (Major to Colonel) thatmost future combat actions will be led”.

The Education-Training Paradox The second study referred to by Crawshaw,

Officer Education: The Military After Next, wastabled in 1996 having been prepared by theparliamentary Joint Standing Committee onForeign Affairs, Defence and Trade. The studyfocused on “the provision of academic studiesand professional military education to officercadets and officers of the Australian DefenceForce” (Commonwealth of Australia 1995, v).

11

Two years in the making and involving around30 senators and members of Parliament, thecommittee made 23 recommendations aimed atcovering its designated brief. It noted that theADF identified officer development as including“professional military development” and“specialisation training”, though for its ownpurposes further subdivided the former into“academic education” and “professional militarystudies”. Having done so, it thereafter referred tospecialisation training as “military training”(1995, 4-6).

Notwithstanding its charter, the report (a 243-page document) covered “military training” (atleast one third of the officer developmentspectrum) in a few brief paragraphs, the last ofwhich suggested that “the issue could usefullyform the basis of a further inquiry.” (1995, 7).Whilst this was later articulated asRecommendation 12, “that the ADF establish areview of junior officer development to assess,among other things, the balance between militaryprofessional development and war fightingskills.” (1995, 153), it could perhaps also bedescribed as a convenient delimitation. It isdifficult to see how such an important report onofficer development could dismiss so easily, theskills fundamental to the ability of militaryofficers to perform their line functions and roles,and indeed, for the ADF to therefore beconsidered professionally credible. Had theirmission analysis been more rigorous, they shouldhave challenged their terms of reference. Thereport is strongly criticised in a range of areas byDay, a former Commandant of the AustralianDefence Force Academy. In particular, hehighlights the failure to “consider the demands ontraining time for junior (ADF) officers to attainexpertise in navigation, seamanship, coordinationof fire control or the making of appreciations andoperational plans” (1996, 4). These couldreasonably be suggested to be amongst thefoundations of tactical skills.

In my view, The Military After Next alsosuffers from an imprecise use of terms. Havingdelimited “military training”, the reportnonetheless frequently refers to “training” and theskill sets within it. This probably occurred due tothe differing terminological interpretations of its

submissions and is demonstrative of the difficultyinherent in attempting to distinguish betweenthem. Hence, the committee’s acceptance ofadvice to delineate between “academiceducation”, “professional military studies” and“military training” cannot be presumed to haveclarified “the grey areas” (1995, 5). It may in facthave contributed towards making things evenmore indistinct. In its defence on the other hand,The Military After Next can be considered agenuine attempt to resolve the education-trainingparadox that appears to be the hallmark of theprofessional military officer development debate.But whether it has accurately managed to achievewhat was once cleverly described as “balancingAthens and Sparta” (Mench in Smith 1980, 1) isquestionable. Numerous works of future war(Toffler and Toffler, 1993; Mohan Malik, 1997;Smith, 1998) accentuate the enormous pressureslikely to be faced by commanders, thus implyingan increased need for officers who are both welleducated as well as highly trained. The greatchallenge is to particularise the liability for each,not just one or the other, and the difficulties ofdoing so are amply demonstrated by theambiguities of the literature that comprises thedebate.

In the meantime, Cosgrove (in Mohan Malik1997, 156) observes of contemporary higher levelcommand that:

Commanders these days have the dilemma ofdiscriminating from a plethora of inputs inorder to determine their aim. They must thenplan to meet it and to maintain a clear focusin the face of a generally overwhelming massof operational information which floods inafter the plan is set in motion. In all but thehighest levels of conflict, campaigncommanders will be under enormouspressure springing from the ability and thepredisposition of the media, governments andother institutions to engage them in dialogue,debate and de facto review of their actionsand plans.If we compare this “command pressure”

scenario with extrapolation from Figure 1, i.e.that in the broadest sense, the majority of combattypes, involving the majority of deployed forceelements in action, commanded by the majority

TACTICAL UNDERSTANDING IN THE AUSTRALIAN ARMY OFFICER CORPS


of officers are in fact tactical activities, seniorcommanders are arguably becoming ever lesscapable of tolerating tactical error or inability insubordinates. We would perhaps do well to heedexamples such as American tactical shortcomingsin Somalia as both a chilling confirmation of thiscomment and an unambiguous, propheticwarning. More to the point, it could be arguedthat such warnings have already been issued: inthe echoes of a blunt comment from one of thesubmissions to the RODC;

One of the major differences perceived of thecommand environment of the futurebattlefield is that commanders probably willnot be permitted the luxury of even one majortactical or military-political error: it willundoubtedly be costly and most probablyterminal.

(Australian Army, undated, 45)Thus, whilst the need for officers to have an

academic education may well have increased, therequirement for them to be highly trained and inparticular, tactically competent has certainly notdiminished. Are they receiving sufficientopportunity to dispel the emergent concernsexpressed above?

Does Tactical Understanding Come Second? Butler (in Smith 1985, 111) remarks that if a

junior officer is to master tactics and militaryadministration, followed by a rigorous strategicdevelopment in mid career “there would seem tobe little time for the outstanding officer to beinvolved with other than his (sic) military studies,practice and development, and his (sic) academicprogram must be directed to that aim”. However,trends in the intervening period suggest theconverse has actually applied. At the very least,the lack of coordinated contemporary study intomilitary training until 1999, implies that thepriority for officer development had beendirected towards academic education. The RODCshowed relatively low levels of academiccredential in the officer corps in the late 1970s. InThe Military After Next, 46 per cent of Armyofficers are recorded as tertiary qualified(Commonwealth of Australia, 1995, 107). Thatthis figure probably dates to 1993 or 1994,suggests the figure is almost certainly nowhigher. The purpose of this theme is not to

discredit the value and importance of academiceducation, but rather to illustrate that it comes at aprice in terms of resources and human capital,particularly time. It also begs the question ofwhat officers did with their time before theadvent of institutionalised encouragement of thepursuit of higher education. Lastly, it makes itevident that officers appear to have a clearunderstanding of what they require professionallyin terms of tertiary education. The questionremains however, whether they have as clear anunderstanding of what the Army expects them toknow militarily.

On the strength of the reviews and studiessince the RODC, they could be excused if theydid not. They are required to attend the coursesmandated by the RODC, but a range ofcircumstances limit the opportunities outside ofthese. The Australian Army manual onCommand and Control (Department of Defence1991, 2-9) states that “responsibility fordeveloping the skills and characteristics relevantto command (which clearly requires individualtactical competence) devolves essentially to theindividual and his (sic) commander”. Thiscontains the inference that officers ostensiblyneed to train themselves (in tactics), or be taughtby commanders who presumably have alsotaught themselves. The highly commendedperformance of Australian troops in Cambodia,Somalia, Rwanda and Timor stands out in starkcontrast to this criticism. But with the greatest ofrespect to those involved in these deployments,barely a single incident involving the exchange offire could be considered to have raised beyondthe level of a duel. The excellent performance ofthe soldiers mirrors comments addressed to theRODC years earlier that “our Army probablyenjoys a reputation for competence in action atsub-unit level” (Anon, undated, 6) but it does notindicate that the tactical expertise of the officerswas severely tested.

Thus, while the various reports, studies andreviews could not be said to have unilaterally orintentionally ignored the issue of tacticalunderstanding, they do infer the existence anddepth of the previously mentioned “culture ofassumption”. They rarely move beyond thegeneric with regard to tactical understanding and


where they do, contradiction or ambiguity oftenfollows soon after. Amongst the other examplesalready considered, this suggestion is wellexemplified in one of the more recent documentsavailable. In Preparing Future Leaders: OfficerEducation and Training for the Twenty-FirstCentury (Smith 1998, - a compilation from theChief of Army Exercise in 1997) McLachlan (xi)comments that “Army training and educationmust give priority to the skills needed forcommand in battle” yet on the following pageunder the heading “Education and trainingpriorities”, the five priorities indicated (expertisein Asian and Pacific affairs, language skills,strategic and defence concepts, developments inmilitary technology and management expertise)could be argued to have, at best, indirect battleutility and quite frankly, questionable value formost officers. Moreover, if they are to beassumed as a “framework” necessary for higherlevel command in battle, their validity aspriorities is even more doubtful as few officersactually reach such a level. This can be contrastedagainst Hickling’s highly pragmatic view (also inSmith 1998, 45) that “Above all else, we need asthe battlefield leaders of the future people whoknow how to win the fight”. The question iswhether the so-called priorities enable thisobjective or whether they actually constitute amore accurate example of “the extrarequirements for modern commanders (which)often overshadow the basic requirements”(Horner in Smith 1998, 103).

A number of themes and issues emerge fromthe literature examined. • First, tactical competence is expected of

officers but the debate of what thisspecifically means and entails remainslimited. If the RODC can be considered tohave most clearly identified tacticalknowledge as “critical”, the emphasis on itsimportance appears to have degraded overtime. The reasons for this degradation are notovertly evident in the literature and supportthe suggestion that competence is assumed.

• Second, the training and education liabilityfor officers is vast, complex and still beingcharted and there is the appearance of acontest between the two requirements. This

has remained the case since at least the timeof the RODC.

• Third, the combination of competingrequirements in general and the paucity ofdebate on tactical training in particular mayhave contributed to what appears to be anorganisational emphasis on officer academiceducation over training.

• Finally, a range of gaps is evident in theliterature relating to tactics e.g. inconsistentdefinitions and vague articulation of thetraining required to meet the perceived need.A further curio is the lack of identificationwhy standards have previously been foundwanting (whether this has changed) and whythe responses to the RODC surveys ontactical issues were so poor. A combination of the above could be said to

constitute an environment in which tacticalunderstanding might indeed be in decline, thoughcan this plausibly be measured? The questionremains: where, how and exactly what, are Armyofficers being trained in in terms of the tacticalskills they require to win future war? The “what”aspect is unfolding through the ongoing work oncompetencies referred to earlier but in theabsence of a device for the measurement oftactical understanding its analysis remainsuncomfortably imprecise. If “the futurebattlefield” literally appeared tomorrow how wellprepared would the officer corps be? It seems thatperhaps the best way to answer such questions isto direct them to the officers themselves.

The C&SC InterviewsAt the end of 1998, this was done with 22

volunteers from the class at the Australian ArmyCommand and Staff College who wereinterviewed on the subject of tacticalunderstanding. Interviewees were selected on thebasis of their availability for interview and thedesire to incorporate officers from a variety ofcorps, backgrounds and gender. Twelve of thegroup had operational or UN service and 18 hadtertiary qualifications or study in progress prior toattendance at C&SC. The group alsoinadvertently included two qualified tacticsinstructors. In addition to the original volunteers,approximately ten other officers separatelyindicated that they were happy to be interviewed


if further subjects were required however none ofthese officers was interviewed as saturation of theinterview questions was evident at the timefurther interviewing was suspended. By virtue ofcompleting C&SC this group technically becameas formally qualified (tactically), as any officer oftheir rank (or above) who has not attended eitherthe AOC or a higher defence college with atactical component within its syllabus. Interviewsvaried between one and two hours and in somecases there were numerous follow-on questions.

Interview Themes and DeductionsThe interview responses delivered a range of

themes which illustrated tactical understanding asintrinsically difficult to acquire, develop andmaintain because of the complexity of itstechnical, interpersonal and conceptualrequirements and the limitations inherent in thecurrent training regime. Tactics was defined withrelative uniformity and although there werevarious interpretations of its constituent elementsthere was clear consensus that the most importantaspect in understanding it was practice, inwhatever form. For the Australian Army like allothers, this is achieved through a combination ofindividual study, unit training and experience,and formal courses. Australian doctrine forcommand, (Department of Defence 1991a, 2-12)indicates the latter to be the “junior partner”.What many of the documents studied earlierreflect is the assumption that this system is intact.What the interviews in fact suggested is thatformal courses carry a disproportionate weight ofthe training liability and that the system isarguably becoming dysfunctional as a result. Thisis due to a wide range of factors, however thoselisted below can be considered identifiable as thekey variables responsible for the existingstandard:• The requirements and standards for tactical

training are inadequately articulated andessentially unmeasured. For this reason, inconjunction with the competing requirementsof higher education and the more readilymeasurable outcomes of routine dailyadministration, a significant number ofofficers are probably unaware of theirresponsibility for self-development in thisfundamental professional subject. They are

thus unlikely to know what gaps exist in theirknowledge, may not know how to close themand have no imperative to do so. The lack ofa program beyond the Army Reading Listaccentuates this, as does the low signature ofprofessional debate of tactical issues in theofficer corps.

• The extent of officer tactical training in unitsvaries markedly from very good to non-existent. In general, its practice is low,perhaps very low. This is ultimately due tothe emphasis placed by commanders andvaries in accordance with competingrequirements, personal interest and ability, theassumption that field exercises meet the need,or the belief that courses are the primarymedium. That so many of the intervieweesemphasised courses as the main conduit fortheir knowledge, alludes towards the extent ofthe latter but does not diminish the effect ofthe others.

Effects on the Training EnvironmentThese aspects place great strain on the formal

course training environment. In conjunction withwhat can be lengthy gaps between courses, thelack of systematic preparation for them ostensiblyforces a revisionist approach. That they are soshort comparatively (see Figure 3), implies thatthey are also therefore either compressed, orfailing to teach the range of subject matter to thedepth repeatedly highlighted in contemporaryliterature as being necessary for contemporarybattlefield commanders. It is difficult to decidewhich of these options is the lesser evil. Evenworse to consider, is that both might actuallyapply. Compression and lack of depth couldvariously result in high tempo subject throughputfor some and boredom for others. Some studentswould find the environment highly intimidatingand something to be endured. Such experiencesemerged not infrequently from the interviews.Others (as mentioned) would be bored, annoyedby the lack of challenge and at least subliminallyseeing the average student as “a sea anchor” whohad not prepared themselves. Subject to thequality of the instructional staff, the potentialtherefore exists for both “types” of student tobecome highly frustrated. To whatever degree


this scenario might apply, the course learningenvironment would be compromised.

Emphasis and ImportanceOverall, despite some views to the contrary, a

theme emerged of “perceived” rather than“actual” organisational emphasis and importancebeing placed on tactical training andunderstanding. This was evidenced by thecomments from interviews on the absence ofmeasurement, guidance and unit-based actionalready mentioned above. To these can be addedthe degree of political and organisationalassumption identified previously. Moreover,recent policy shifts towards a more combatantheavy Army might logically imply acorresponding increase in training. Whilst thismight yet plausibly devolve, the “stripping ofTraining Command” and reduction of somecourses were a more obvious and common

impression amongst the interviewees. In theabsence of actions above duel level or the benefitof a battlegroup or formation level CTC, it is notpossible for the veracity of the assumption to bevalidated. Rather, it is an unknown, which canonly be determined by exposure to one of theabove or further research of the type begun bythis study.

Sufficiency and its RedressIt is therefore contended that Australian

officers probably receive insufficient tacticaltraining. Investigation of comparative all armstraining up to the rank of major in fact suggeststhat the Australian Army conducts less, and insome cases significantly less individual trainingthan “comparable” armies. Confirmation byexamination and use of these as a barrier tohigher promotion or attendance at subsequentcourses is commonplace elsewhere, and

LT CAPT MAJ Remarks

Australia 5 4 Intermediate Staff Course, Intermediate OperationsCourse.

Intermediate Tactics Course (4 wk self study concluded Canada 8 11 with tactics and a logistics exam as prerequisite to 4

16 weeks residential), Canadian Land Force Staff Course,CLF Command and Staff Course (approx 70% ofofficers). Approx 40% go on to Joint C&SC.

New 6 7 12 Operational Staff Course (4 wk self study and 2 wk Zealand residential), Grade 3 Operations Course, Grade 2

Promotion Exam OEB Operations Course. OEB determines selection forC&SC and sub-unit command.

United 17 Junior Division Staff Course (preceded by approx 8Kingdom months of self study. Concludes with the exam noted

which influences staff college selection and promotionPromotion Promotion to Major).Exam Exam

United 6 The US (Army) approach does not readily compare asStates the emphasis appears to be on lengthy specialist (corps)

courses rather than all corps training until officers attendstaff college.

Figure 3 – Comparative All Arms Training (in weeks)


commanding officers are ultimately heldresponsible for the preparation undertaken bytheir officers. A broad comparison is shown inFigure 3 of the number of weeks spent on allarms courses which are either generally orexclusively staff and operations based, prior toattendance at Command and Staff College.

That a number of “alike”, potential coalitionpartners spend more time in all corps training andappear to be more stringent in their measurementof it does not invalidate the Australian approach,but it clearly accentuates the need for all the tiersof the Australian system to function effectively.However as already suggested, the evidenceimplies that they do not. As a minimum, thecorrection of these aspects would make asubstantial difference to the standard that couldbe achieved in schools even within the length ofexisting courses. This leads to the conclusion thatthe current training regime does have the abilityto redress the deficiencies identified thus far. Anumber of detailed recommendations are offeredshortly of how this can be achieved andenhanced. Ultimately, the culture must accentuatethe responsibility of the individual to the team byself-preparedness and awareness and theresponsibility of the team (i.e. the Army) to theindividual by providing discrete guidance andunit-based challenge, in addition to stimulatingand demanding courses.

Training Methods and MechanismsCurrently, it is probable that the overall all

corps tactical training of Australian officers isneither as effective or efficient as it could be. Themacro reasons for this have been given above.The micro reside within the institutionsthemselves including the combined effects ofcompression and marked variation in theprofessional knowledge of students. These placechallenges on staff which are themselves atraining liability. Yet, and despite the conduct ofin-house training at the respective institutions,there is no longer any course that formallyteaches potential instructors how to construct aTEWT, one of the main instructional devices inthe Australian Army that formally imparts tacticstraining. By comparison and albeit dated to 1990(Anon, undated-b), the German Army Tacticsand Logistics Instructor Course was six weeks

long. Before its demise, the discontinuedAustralian equivalent was 16 days. Suchdiscrepancies, let alone that the course no longerexists are further confirmation of a lack ofemphasis and of the degree of assumption. Inconjunction with the tempo within traininginstitutions, they may also increase the temptationfor old training to be repeated rather than newtraining being developed.

The effectiveness of the TEWT and othertraining methods depends above all on theenthusiasm and knowledge of the commander orinstructor who leads them. Interview responsessuggested that this could be significantlyenhanced with every one or more of thefollowing conditions that could also be achieved:• When the entire group contributes (to

discussion).• When the environment is sufficiently

de-stressed to optimise performance.• When the activity is two sided.• When the activity can involve physically

walking through something that has beendiscussed or developed in a theoretical sense.Australian TEWT method frequently

involves only one or two students presenting theirplan. The degree of anxiety that this can causecan be acute in officers with a limited experientialbase or inadequate preparation. It is also commonto seek a weak plan in order to demonstratelessons. This is driven by time constraints andcan be a deflating experience for the individualconcerned no matter how skilled the instructor orforgiving the peers. If it occurs repeatedly it candestroy confidence and the desire to learn whilstencouraging the wish to avoid or escape.Concurrently, a capable individual may miss theopportunity to practice or exhibit a skill that isalready largely consolidated. This can lead tofrustration or at worst, contempt for the lessdeveloped. Each of these equally destructiveoutcomes could be pre-empted by a more robustapproach to preparation and better use ofgraduated learning, including the opportunity forremedial training if required in order to buildknowledge and confidence. However thisrequires time, a variable that is simply notavailable in the current courses. Simple logicsuggests that without individual preparation, unit

17

training or longer courses, there will be noimprovement. The disparity in studentunderstanding and tempo of courses also leads toanother frequently mentioned complaint ofmethod in terms of the scripting of activities. Inunits or on exercise this can result from resourceconstraints. On courses it can also be the productof the assessment system and the way that thestudents approach it.

A further aspect constraining the moreeffective use of tactical training as adevelopmental tool is the relatively linearapplication of available methods and the recenttrend in the all corps courses towards staff-basedsolutions, rather than individual work. Withregard to the former, properly used the TEWT isan excellent tool. If combined with manualtactical decision games (TDGs) and computer-based training the only thing preventing acombination of methods is the will and time to doit. At least one unit has created its own “battlelab” through the drive of its commanding officerand some creative accounting. This should be thenorm rather than the exception. The secondaspect is the staff trend. The Australian Army hasrecently adopted a new Military AppreciationProcess, a staff-based decision-making tool. Thishas resulted in the all corps schools revertingfrom instruction in an individual decision-makingtool to a group one which intrinsically relies onthe competence of individuals in somethingwhich, in the main it appears they are now nolonger practiced in. This is a matter that requiresurgent investigation. It might potentially beleading to a reduced ability or confidence inindividual knowledge and decision making.

AssessmentThe above factors appear to contribute to

what seems close to a phobia of assessment and acontrolled but deep-seated fear of appearing tofail in front of peers. Only two interviewees wereprepared to discuss this at length, one seeing itlike “a cancer”, something we don’t talk about.Several others did so to the extent they feltpossible, for example, “I’ve exposed all myvulnerabilities. You’ve got my opinions good orbad, but you’re the first person I’ve actually evertold my opinion”. There was sufficient weight ofevidence in the group to suggest that these were

not isolated crises of confidence, but rather theproducts of a system with very highorganisational expectations and demands, andinsufficient time and training with which to meetthem. This raises an interesting point aboutmeasurement. The RODC dismantled the formermeasurement system of promotion examinationsbecause they were administratively inefficientand organisationally perceived as ineffective.Some of the submissions refer to staff at theTactics Wing at Canungra also arguing stronglyfor the new operations courses to be non-assessed, presumably in order to de-stress themand develop a more positive approach towardsthem. In his book Maverick Soldier (1991, 179),Essex-Clarke refers to Vietnam veteransdecorated for gallantry in action, being“overcome with emotion” (in relief) at passingthe TAC 5 and “failures disappear, shattered tothe isolation of their rooms”. Fear of theconsequences of failure in a tactical trainingenvironment and concerns about assessment arecertainly not a new phenomenon. Nor shouldreferences to overseas examples necessarily beconstrued as a recommendation for the re-implementation of examinations. However thede-emphasis of assessment, certainly withininitial all corps tactical training could be greatlyenhanced if officers were better prepared prior tocourses and once on them, had more time andopportunity to learn rather than worry. Whetherthis preparation occurs through sponsoredpersonal study, longer courses, examinations orthe tutelage of their commanding officer isirrelevant. But it must happen, and in many casesit currently is not.

Military HistoryA final aspect from the interviews relates to

the surprisingly high incidence of the reading ofmilitary history for pleasure. Over 20 years agothe RODC recommended that a military historyprogram be established for officers, but this wasnot enacted. Interestingly, a military historyreading and essay program was attempted in theearly 1990s but failed because it wasinsufficiently supported through the chain ofcommand and appears to have been resisted forits imposition. In a culture which had grownaway from the exams jettisoned after the RODC,

TACTICAL UNDERSTANDING IN THE AUSTRALIAN ARMY OFFICER CORPS


many of the junior officers at whom it wastargeted were already busy trying to meet thecompeting requirement of achieving part-timeexternal degrees under the JOPES system. It ispoignant to reflect that such a significant numberof officers read for pleasure a subject that couldbe enhancing their tactical understandingexponentially if it was simply shaped. The USArmy selectively identifies capable graduates ofits C&SC and retains them for a second year atthe School of Advanced Military Studies.Military history is a core subject of this course.

In sum, the key variables influencing whetherlevels of tactical understanding rise or declineappear to be founded on: a clear statement of thestandard required, the availability of sufficienttime and resources for training to that standard,the method of training and its definitivemeasurement against the standard. Weaknessescurrently exist in each of these areas, however thesystem is sufficiently robust enough to redressthem through re-balancing the training hierarchy.

Regrettably though, whilst the interviewstended to support the thesis that levels of tacticalunderstanding in the officer corps are in decline,it would be inappropriate to claim that theyproved it. Rather, the thesis could neither beproved nor disproved. The primary reason for thisis that there is no empirical mechanism for itsmeasurement other than perhaps war itself.However, even that the Australian Armyperformed well operationally in its most recentwar (Vietnam) does not of itself prove what thestandard of tactical understanding was in theofficer corps at that time. Indeed, as shownpreviously, reports from the post-Vietnam era(within a timeframe when the operationalexperience levels of the corps would ostensiblystill have been high) state that a lack of tacticalunderstanding was widespread. Further, theofficial publication on infantry lessons identifies“the lack of practical tactical training of companycommanders and CP staff” as the “greatestweakness” (Australian Army 1988, 6-8). Theseimply that despite tactical success in that conflict,the standard in the officer corps as a whole maynot have been particularly high in the first place.In the intervening period, promotion exams havebeen discarded and the course continuum

reshaped in a system that has now been in placefor over 20 years. From being one part of a three-tier system, the course continuum appears to havebecome the mainstay of the standard. ThatAustralians are genuinely well regarded in aprofessional sense should not be diminished ormade light of. At the same time, the suggestion ofimbalance within the tactical training regimeleads inexorably to the conclusion that whilst thecurrent level is probably no lower, it is almostcertainly no higher than it was 20 years ago. Thiscannot be presumed to be acceptable in a 21stcentury Army.

Redressing the ProblemA range of recommendations follow as the

basis of a solution to the perceived problem.These represent a minimalist option, which couldbe implemented over time. The suggestedpriorities are simple. Establish a clear objective,lead with command emphasis and mandateindividual responsibility. In effect this is littlebeyond a more vigorous application of extant oremerging Army doctrine and methods. Theremaining recommendations are designed toaccentuate an increased organisational emphasison tactical understanding, particularly at the ranksin which it is mainly experienced or taught.Beyond the recommendations are suggestions ofhow (in terms of implications for policy andpractice) they might be enacted.

Specific RecommendationsIt is recommended that the officer tactical

training architecture needs the following:• A detailed and clearly articulated, widely

disseminated and physically attainablestatement of professional requirement for thelevel of tactical understanding expected of themembers of the officer corps.

• Emphasis placed on the conduct of tacticaltraining for officers in units which ispersonally conducted by the commandingofficer of that headquarters, unit, branch orsection. Commanding officers at all levelsmust take a more active role in tacticaltraining.

• An individual professional development(IPD) program tailored to rank designed tokeep officers up to date and in particular, to


prepare them for their next course. Thisprogram needs to be sponsored by all corpsschools and supervised by commandingofficers.

• Allied to the IPD program, a voluntarymilitary history course should be initiated atgraduate or post-graduate level, similar to thatat the US School of Advanced MilitaryStudies. The programs available could be aGraduate Diploma in Military History orGraduate Diploma of Education (MilitaryHistory). The course could be open to allmembers of the ADF, regardless of rank orService.

• De-emphasis of the requirement and incentivefor officers below the rank of major to seekacademic qualifications unless specificallyrequired by their employment. Concurrentlyhowever, a scheme to allow accelerated full-time degree courses for officers at or abovemajor should be investigated. There should bea mechanism for case by case exception tothis philosophy, but the organisational maineffort should be clearly articulated asoperational skill.

• The establishment of a live battlegroup levelcombat training centre and the initiation of anall corps tactics course for all commandingofficers to replace the current AOC.

• The re-designation of the AOC as a truly“advanced” course attended selectively bythose officers LT-MAJ who are identified ontheir ISC or IOC as above average in theirstaff and operational skills. A mechanismmust be established to encourage excellence.No rank should be worn. The course shouldbe structured to qualify those who attend it asTactics and Logistics Instructors.

• The Tactics and Logistic Instructorqualification should become part of theC&SC course for any officer who has notpreviously completed it. As a minimum, theC&SC curriculum should include training inhow to construct effective tactical training atunit level.

• Urgent investigation of the balance betweenstaff and individual based decision-makingprocess training and adjustment as necessary

to ensure that sufficient individual training isbeing imparted in both.

• Further research to establish definitively, theextent, type and frequency of tactical trainingthat officers are receiving in units.

Senior CommandersCommanders at all levels need to take a

uniformly more active role in accentuating theimportance of tactical training and understanding.The view expressed of senior officers in theinterviews was generally negative. Whetherdeserved or not, this was the majority perspectiveand if considered to have any weighting,reinforces the need for commanders to be activeas suggested above. Some senior commanderswere spoken of by name very positively. Albeitthat they were themselves officers of differentranks within the grouping “senior officers”, thecharacteristics identified as respected in themincluded knowing what they were talking about,willingness to involve subordinates in problemsolving, personally involving themselves in thesolution of tactical problems and the informeddiscussion of tactical issues and theory withsubordinates. Senior officers at the highest levelneed to start asking subordinate commandersdifficult questions about the extent, nature andfrequency of the non-course or exercise-basedtactical training that is being conducted forofficers in headquarters, training establishmentsand units. Senior officers need to place highpriority on the integrity and currency of thedoctrinal hierarchy, which was seen asdysfunctional by some officers. Senior officersshould act on or direct action on therecommendations identified above.

Commanding OfficersSome commanding officers have probably

received insufficient grounding in tacticalunderstanding but are themselves in turnproviding subordinates with insufficient tacticalgrounding. The development of subordinates is acommand responsibility that cannot be left to thecourse continuum nor to the individual alonewithout detriment to the Army and to the officer.This was evident in the interviews and isprobably still the case. Commanding officersmust be supported in accepting greater


responsibility for the development of the tacticalskills of their subordinates. If unit tempo orresources preclude this the higher commandershould be pressured for their reduction andincrease respectively. As a minimum,commanding officers should have each officerpresent their proposed annual individualdevelopment program for discussion, and shouldTEWT with their officers at least once per sixmonths. Every unit should have a qualified tacticsinstructor.

OfficersIndividual officers have a responsibility for

personal professional development of which itappears many may not be aware, particularlyjunior officers. Pending issue of an officialstatement of professional requirement for thelevel of tactical understanding, officers shouldprepare an IPD program and discuss it with theirimmediate superior. Officers have aresponsibility to self prepare prior to attendanceat any course. Officers have a responsibility todirectly supervise the tactical training anddevelopment of tactical understanding in theirsubordinates.

InstructorsInstructors have a responsibility to be expert

in their subject matter, knowledgeable ininstructional theory and skilled in its practice.They need to be mindful of the current disparityin levels of preparation and understanding andappreciate the reasons for this. They need to beprepared to modify methods in order to maximiseoutputs in tactical understanding and if necessary,to seek opportunities for remedial training outsidethe confine of the course dates. Thus if requiredor recommended, a student should be able toremain behind for additional training after acourse has technically finished. Instructors shouldencourage the use of multiple methods in traininginstitutions. In particular the use of two-sidedactivities, TDGs and CBT should be increased.The characteristics identified by the interviews asmost important in instructors were subjectknowledge, interest and enthusiasm.

DoctrineTactical doctrine forms the basis of tactical

understanding. On the basis of short courses, an

apparently low incidence of unit tactical trainingand the absence of any test, it is suggested thatorganisationally, the level of familiarity withtactical doctrine is probably low. It isrecommended that in addition to LWD 1, everyofficer be issued with a personal hardcopy ofMLW 1.1.2 Command and Control, MLW 1.1.4Formation Tactics and MLW 1.1.6Administration in the Area of Operations or, asdoctrine evolves, with the documents that replacethem. Every officer should be expected to knowand understand these documents.

ConclusionThis article has sought to analyse the status of

tactical training in the Australian Army officercorps and review its effectiveness. On the basis ofits discourse, it concludes that whilst it isintuitively held as important, the status of tacticaltraining in the officer corps is low. This is thesum of complex issues, the intricacies of thesubject itself and the unrealised extent of thepolitical and military assumption that hasoccurred. As mentioned above, the dissertationcannot establish definitive evidence of a decline,however it can and has identified matters thatshould reasonably be held in concern. The first ofthese is that the standard of tactical understandingin the officer corps is not empirically measured tothe same degree as in comparable armies. Thesecond is that the formal course continuumappears to be carrying a disproportionate weightof the training liability and the third is that thelength of those courses is less, in some casesconsiderably less, than comparable armies.

The article has investigated what several ofthe interview subjects described as “like a dark[i.e. forbidden] topic”. Army needs to research itfurther, and should act without delay. In theinterim it remains interesting to consider whetherthere is any other subject currently being studiedby officers as part of their professional oracademic development which has the type ofbenefits identified by the interviewees of thisstudy as gained from their tactical training: self-confidence or self-awareness; problem solving ordecision-making skills; corporate insight; peerknowledge; the ability to win and feedback. Toreflect upon these at any length is to wonderwhether possibly, as an Army, we are under


utilising one of the most valuable vehicles in ourlearning inventory.

No study is possible on the battlefield; onedoes there simply what one can do in order toapply what one knows. Therefore, in order todo even a little, one has already to know agreat deal and know it well.

Marshal Ferdinand Foch 1919

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Hackett, J., 1983, The Profession of Arms, Book ClubAssociates, London.

Hays, S.H., Thomas, W.N. (Eds), 1967, TakingCommand: The Art and Science of MilitaryLeadership, Stackpole, Harrisburg.

Hinge, A.J., 1990, “Changing the Australian DefenceEnvironment,” Defence Force Journal, pp. 14-27,No. 80, January/February, Department ofDefence, Camberra.

Holmes, R., 1985, Firing Line, Jonathan Cape,London.

Hunt, J.G., Blair, J.D. (Eds), 1985, Leadership on theFuture Battlefield, Pergamon Brassey,Washington.

Jans, N. A., 1979, “The Report of the Regular OfficerDevelopment Committee”, Defence ForceJournal, No 19, Nov/Dec. pp. 32-48.

Jans, N. A., 1988, Careers In Conflict: Report of aStudy on Service Officers’ Careers and Familiesin Peace Time, CCAE, Canberra.

Keegan, J., 1978, The Face of Battle, Penguin,Ringwood.

Liddell Hart, B. H., 1943, Thoughts On War, Faberand Faber, London.

Macgregor, D. A., 1997, Breaking the Phalanx,


Praeger, Westport.Marshall, S.L.A., 1947, Men Against Fire: The

Problem of Battle Command in Future War, PeterSmith, Gloucester.

Mohan Malik, J. (ed), 1997, The Future Battlefield,Deakin University Press, Geelong.

Moore, J.J., 1977, The Development of Strategic andTactical Thought by Officers of the AustralianArmy. A study prepared for submission by theRegular Officer Development Committee,Canberra.

Morley, T.V., 1991, “Too Important to Ignore:Training Field Grade Officers in Units,” MilitaryReview, Vol LXXI, No 1, Jan 91 pp. 50-61.

Pakistan Army, 1994, Pakistan Army Green Book -Training in the Army, The Army Press,Rawalpindi.

Pratten, G. and Harper, G. (Eds), 1996, Still the Same:Reflections on Active Service from Bardia toBaidoa. Army Doctrine Centre, Georges Heights.

Sawyer, R.D., 1996, The Art of the Warrior:Leadership and Strategy from the ChineseMilitary Classics, Shambhala, Boston.

Smith, H. (Ed), 1980, Officer Education: Problems andProspects. Papers presented to a conference of theAustralian Study Group on Armed Forces andSociety RMC Duntroon 30-31 May 1980.

Smith, H. (Ed), 1985, Perspectives on the MilitaryCareer. Papers presented to the ninth annual

conference of the Australian Study Group onArmed Forces and Society RMC Duntroon 26July 1985.

Smith, H. (Ed), 1998, Preparing Future Leaders:Officer Education and Training for the Twenty-First Century. Australian Defence Studies Centre,Canberra.

Sun Tzu, 1971, The Art of War, (Edited by Griffith, S.B.), OUP, London.

Toffler, A. & H., 1993, War and Anti War: Survival atthe Dawn of the 21st Century, Little, Brown &Company, Boston.

United States Army, 1950, Russian Combat Methodsin World War II, Centre of Military History,Washington.

United States Army, 1993, Leadership and Commandon the Battlefield: Battalion and Company, USArmy Training and Doctrine Command, FortMonroe, Virginia.

Van Creveld, M., 1985, Command In War, Harvard,Cambridge.

Van Creveld, M., 1990, The Training of Officers, FreePress, New York.

Von Clausewitz, C., 1976, On War, (Edited andtranslated by Howard, M., and Paret, P.) PrincetonUniversity Press, Princeton.

Von Mellenthin, F. W., 1956, Panzer Battles,Ballantine, New York.

Lieutenant Colonel Luke Carroll is a graduate of OCS Portsea and the Command and Staff College atQuetta in Pakistan. His regimental service has been in 3RAR and 6RAR. He also served on the staff ofHQ 6 Bde, 2 Div, LHQ, at the Infantry Centre. Following staff college attendance he filled instructionalappointments firstly as a tactics instructor at Canungra and then as a member of the directing staff atthe Army Command Staff College at Queenscliff. More recently, Lieutenant Colonel Carroll was theProject Director for the introduction of Career Streaming into Army and having himself elected tospecialise in military HR is currently studying at ADFA. He holds masters degrees in Defence Studiesand in Education (Training and Development). This article is based on a dissertation submitted as partof the requirement for the award of the latter.

23

Leadership and Organisational PerformanceFor the last 20 years or more, Australian

military organisations consistently haveperformed well in operations and at a mediocrelevel (at best) in tasks of higher management andstrategic leadership.

For example, in early 2000, in the veryfortnight that the first large contingent ofAustralian troops returned triumphant from EastTimor, the Secretary of the Department ofDefence publicly flagged what he termed a“credibility problem” associated with the“widespread dissatisfaction with Defence’sperformance in Canberra – from ministers,central agencies within the public service,industry, and even from within the Defenceorganisation itself”. The Government, theSecretary explained, was extremely dissatisfiedwith continued management problems in theAustralian Defence Organisation. He noted inparticular the problem of leadership, saying that“often it seems that wherever one sits in thehierarchy, all the problems besetting theorganisation in terms of its management andleadership come from higher up the ladder”.3

A stark example of the consequences of this“leadership problem” is seen in the DefenceEfficiency Review, visited on the Defence Forcein October 1996. Tellingly, the DefenceEfficiency Review’s chairman and memberswere mainly non-Defence people. The majorshake-up they advocated was an example of what

is known in contemporary management literatureas “Dictatorial or Forced Transformation”. Thisapproach – in which radical, speedy andunpopular change is used to restore businessviability by major changes to organisational andcareer structures and downsizing/retrenchments –had been applied extensively in the Australianbusiness sector in the 1980s and 1990s.4 Now itwas Defence’s turn.

The Defence Efficiency Review report wasnot a particularly astute document. Its majorphilosophical underpinning – that military culturecan be changed by reorganising and changing themethod of resource allocation – was naïve andmisguided. But we can thank it for oneparticularly telling observation, when itcontrasted the “can-do” professionalism ofService units with that of the staff, especially thatin Canberra. “The puzzle”, the DER remarked, is“why these same people, when moved todifferent positions or promoted to higher levels,tolerate what everyone we spoke to asserts orconcedes is a significantly sub-optimal system”.5

This article addresses this “puzzle”. In whatfollows, we discuss the culture of the AustralianDefence Headquarters (ADHQ) workenvironment and its effect on organisationalbehaviour. As noted above, the then Secretary ofDefence appeared to attribute most of Defence’sproblems to a culture of “learned helplessness”and of chronic sub-standard performance to

Culture and Organisational Behaviour atAustralian Defence Headquarters1

By Nick Jans and David Schmidtchen

Centralisation has given rise to a pronounced lack of corporate ownership and responsibilityamong the three Services. There is a strong propensity to transfer the problem to the centre and blamesenior personnel (generally Canberra-based personnel, civilian or military) for their lack ofunderstanding and affinity with the challenges faced by those at the command or unit level. TheServices have become too detached from the ADF’s human resource processes… This has created anadversarial environment in which the Services seek to maximise their positions with little apparentregard to the overall needs of the ADF, which in turn promotes a lack of trust between the Services andthe centre.

Review of Australian Defence Force Remuneration2


leadership. This article shows that he was onlyhalf right.

Culture, Organisational Behaviour andDefence Headquarters

Cultural features shape behaviour andinfluence decisions even when (as is typical) thevast majority of members give them no consciousthought.

The three Services of the Australian DefenceForce have developed distinctive cultures. Thesediffer in some of their specifics but, institutionallyand in the motives of their members, the Servicesare much more alike than they are different.6 Wesee this particularly in the contrast between theculture of the mainstream military and that of theDefence bureaucracy.

Each of the three Services has what scholarscall a “strong” culture because each has a strongsense of identity and clear and measurablefunctions. In contrast, the identity and functionsof “Defence” are less clearly defined. As aninstitution and as a “culture”, it is an uneasyamalgam of the ethos of the Australian PublicService and the three Services. A large andspecial pinch of spice is provided by its history,as it developed from four related departments(Defence, Navy, Army and Air Force) to be asingle department under the iron leadership of thelate Sir Arthur Tange.

Newly arrived officers often find themselvesconfused and disoriented by the significantdifferences between the mainstream military andDefence Headquarters. Few of the professionalcompetencies that made for career performancein an officer’s early career – decisiveness indecision making, authority in leadership, theability to adhere to doctrine yet use initiative –have the same utility in Canberra. In mainstreamunits, officers give orders; in DefenceHeadquarters, they must often negotiate,frequently in situations that they don’t fullyunderstand. In the unit, even if they had to dealwith superiors and rivals outside the unit, at leastthey feel they knew how these superiors andrivals thought and what their values were; inDefence Headquarters, most of the civilians theydeal with have equal or greater authority, usuallymore bureaucratic savvy, and seem often to havea different agenda which is not always clear.

“Rank” or “job level” or even a job title ceases tobe any guide to who is influential and who is not;in meetings they are required to cross verbalswords with younger, often sharper, often femalecounterparts, about whose position and role theymay be unsure.

Given such differences in workingenvironment, it is little wonder that the averageService officer is professionally andpsychologically unprepared for the differencesbetween the mainstream ADF and ADHQ. Thepriorities, the style, the general “script” for thedaily routine: all are so different that it takessome time for them to realise the degree ofdifference. Many officers attempt to compensatefor their disorientation by restructuring the newand unfamiliar problems to conform to problemsituations met in their earlier careers. Usually,these attempts take the form of attempts toincrease order, focus rationality and improve staffduties. Such an approach gives rise to elaboratenetworks and hierarchies of directorates andcommittees, and usually vain attempt by seniorofficers to “be across” a range of complex andoften nebulous issues by an intense form of“busyness”.

There are, it is true, many officers for whomDefence Headquarters is a challenge to berelished; even if they don’t become as skilled inthe ADHQ as they did in their mainstream units,at least they develop some appropriatecompetence. But the irony is that few advancetheir careers by doing so. The quasi “up or out”policy that applies in senior officer careermanagement policy means that there is no benefitof remaining in the bureaucracy and becomingaccomplished in its ways. Indeed the opposite isthe case. To advance, one must command or atleast hold senior staff appointments in a series ofheadquarters. For all but a few, to remain in theCanberra bureaucracy in a specialist functionalfield is a serious career disadvantage – indeed,most see it as a prescription for careerplateauing.7

A generation ago, the Public Serviceexecutive group in Defence provided somepersonnel continuity and corporate memory, butthis group is now increasingly driven by ageneralist career philosophy every bit as powerful

CULTURE AND ORGANISATIONAL BEHAVIOUR AT AUSTRALIAN DEFENCE HEADQUARTERS 25

as that in the Services. For the last two decades,senior Public Service careers have been shapedby the development of the Senior ExecutiveService. This SES philosophy “is aboutintroducing flexibility, improving management,increasingly the mobility of senior executives andestablishing and cultivating the idea of a coherentand clearly identifiable group of senior executivesfor various purposes”.8 Those who staff thehigher levels of the Public Service have beenencouraged to think of themselves as employableacross a range of agencies. Over-identificationwith one agency is no longer in an ambitiousindividual’s long-term interests. Recent SES jobrotation across the Public Service has thus beenalmost as high as that of military officers.9,10

Some commentators have suggested that thedisadvantages of this practise could be counteredby having would-be Defence executives attendthe lengthy mid-career courses set up for theirmilitary counterparts.11 However, it would not besurprising if the contemporary Defence PublicService officer with career ambitions tookprecisely the opposite view. They have becomeanalogous to the ambitious military generalist, forwhom (as we saw earlier) excessive time in a“non-core” staff area such as personnel andmateriel is seen as a handicap rather than an asset.Thus the SES career system dictates that the rolefocus of executives is as much upwards andsideways (to the Minister and to related agencies)as it is downwards (to the “general public” orconstituency that an agency services). Hence, asNeil James suggests, current and would-be seniorPublic Service officers in Defence see attendanceat military staff college and the like as “not…important, and rarely essential”.12

“Paralysis by Analysis” The symptoms of the Defence Headquarters

problem were enunciated by Secretary Hawkemainly as political stakeholder dissatisfactionwith lack of responsiveness, poor policydevelopment, and lack of empathy with the broadDefence Force constituency. There are a numberof reasons why these problems exist in DefenceHeadquarters.

In what follows, we use the Personnel field asthe example but other areas provide equallypertinent examples.

Defence Headquarters has traditionally beeninclined to subject major issues to intensescrutiny. This applies especially in personnelmatters. As a consequence, impending action onpersonnel problems is often put on hold until afresh strategic level study is done or animplementation team reviews the most recentone. Take, for example, the many major studieson personnel that have been done in the lastdecade-and-a-half. Since the AustralianParliament’s Cross Committee Report in 1987made recommendations for change to personnelstrategy,13 a number of major studies of personnelstrategy have been mounted within the DefenceForce. The Glenn Review had the highest profileof these, and the most resources, but Glenn’simpact was no greater than the token responsegiven to Cross. Most recently, the 2000 PostingTurbulence Review spawned the Action Plan forPeople, whose recommendations wereremarkably similar to those of the Cross Report.In late 2000, the ADF Remuneration (“TheNunn”) Review was launched with a brief thattook six months to complete14. During this time,no major personnel initiative was allowed toproceed.

For an institution that claims – correctly – thatits most important resource is its people, theDefence Force has done remarkably little tocorrect long-standing problems. Despite themany relatively minor programs that have beenlaunched and the many glossy publications thathave been printed, the only major personnelinitiative from the Services in the last twodecades was the introduction of a newsuperannuation scheme. And, ironically, this newscheme did nothing to assist the Services intackling retention problems in a turbulenteconomic era and arguably even impeded them indoing so.

All this is illustrative of an implacable patternof “paralysis by analysis”. Why is this patternrepeated so often? What is it about the Defenceinstitution that makes it so difficult to be decisiveabout personnel? Defence can be decisive aboutnew weapons systems (e.g., Collins Classsubmarines), new information technologysystems (e.g., PMKeys), training (e.g., theDefence Force Academy, the Australian Defence


College, and the Army’s Common InductionTraining) and reorganisations (e.g., the DefenceReform Program). Why not a similar approachto Personnel?

For the explanation, we must look at the issuefrom four perspectives: the political, theorganisational, the cultural and the personnelmanagement system. Each of these fourperspectives would explain Defence’s inability tobe decisive and innovative about personnel withan argument something like the following:

• The political explanation. The “political”part of the explanation lies in the complexinstitutional and political system of theDepartment of Defence and DefenceHeadquarters. There are a large number ofstakeholders with significant institutional powerwithin a single bureaucratic location. It is perhapsa measure of the pervasive power of thepersonnel function and the way it cuts acrossevery operational and support activity, that everytime a major change is proposed it must be re-studied again and again to ensure that it meets theneeds of (or poses no threat to) every stakeholder.

• The organisational explanation. The“organisational” part of the explanation is simplyan illustration of the inertia of bureaucracies.Organisations that lack immediate and vital goalsand operate in an essentially uncompetitiveenvironment change slowly. Since the AustralianDefence Organisation has few incentives tochange in terms of pressing “market” forces,change tends to come about largely through theinitiatives of senior leaders. However, suchleaders set priorities based on both their readingof the issues and the time they have available tosteer any changes. Both will vary markedlybetween different players. And both are stronglybut subtly influenced by cultural, career andclimate factors.

• The cultural explanation. From a culturalperspective, most of the examples mentionedearlier (in terms of changes in weapons systems,training, etc) are activities that are close to theServices’ “core business”. Senior officers feelcomfortable with such programs. Theyunderstand weapons systems and trainingbecause these have always been part of theircareers. However, very few have a sophisticated

understanding of personnel issues, because theirprevious exposure to personnel is invariably interms of the mechanics rather than strategicaspects of management. Most give way to thehuman reaction of giving attention to the thingsthat are familiar and urgent, and of keeping theunfamiliar at arm’s length if possible. The ironyis that their decisions about weapons systems,training and the like have significant personnelimplications. However, because such ostensibly“non-personnel” projects are led by people withlittle personnel expertise, these implications tendto be overlooked until they are manifested, sometime later (often years later), in problems ofrecruitment, retention, morale and cost over-runs.

• The personnel management systemexplanation. Finally, as we noted earlier, themilitary career system gives senior and middle-level Defence Force officers in Canberra what isreally only a fleeting exposure to the personnelfunction during their careers and then requiresthem to make decisions on crucial long-termpersonnel programs. To exacerbate the situation,such decisions are often required from officerswho have had only a brief learning period in theirrespective staff appointments. And, as we haveseen, for Public Service executives, the situationis little different.

What to do about all this?Everyone loses from these deficiencies in

organisational behaviour, and it is everyone’sinterests to understand and focus on their causes.

The problem is that these issues are onlypartly being addressed by the current Defenceleadership organisational renewal program.

Any serious attempt at reform must address –and as far as possible, do so simultaneously –three core elements of a renewal strategy.

Firstly, career development and careermanagement polices must be reforged: for theServices certainly and possibly also for Defencepublic servants. It is no longer acceptable forcrucial short- and long-term decisions aboutstrategic capability factors to be made by peoplewith little functional expertise in specialist staffareas.

Secondly, the leaders of staff units mustbecome more adept in the way that they manageorganisational climate. Recent research in

CULTURE AND ORGANISATIONAL BEHAVIOUR AT AUSTRALIAN DEFENCE HEADQUARTERS 27

Defence shows that managing the staff/policy“knowledge organisation” requires a differentapproach to that of conventional military units.Senior leaders need to become cognisant of thisand of how their leadership/management styleshould be varied in such situations. The need forbetter functional expertise among senior officersand greater appointment stability for most suchleaders is especially pressing.

Finally, changes to executive training,structures and organisation are needed to supportthe first two of these reform elements.Traditionally, a training-structural-reorganisa-tional approach has been the Australian Defenceinstitution’s preferred approach to performanceproblems. However, used alone, this is not aviable strategy, and is unlikely to have little realeffect on the underlying issues.

Above all, Australian Defence Organisationleaders must acknowledge the problem in all itsdimensions. The problem is not just a leadershipissue (which are in any case is a symptom asmuch as a cause) but stem from the way that themajor structural reforms of the 1970s, 1980s and1990s were put into effect.

Conclusion A quarter of a century ago, the Army’s

Regular Officer Development Committee flaggedthe need to prepare officers properly for duty inthe Defence bureaucracy. Today, little haschanged, with the military institution continuingto tolerate a situation that is costing it dear. Noneof the Services has done itself any favours by itsapproach to staffing at Russell. Not only dosenior and middle-level officers often lackfunctional expertise but many lack any sense ofthe theory of public administration and the waythat government agencies actually get thingsdone. This has little to do with the commandskills and commitment such officers bring to thestaff role. The vast majority come to such rolesfilled with enthusiasm and vigour. Task-focussedand trained to measure their performance andeffectiveness in real time, they itch to make adifference. When they join DefenceHeadquarters, however, they are pitched into anunfamiliar arena, with the near-certainty that theywill be posted to another appointment within twoyears (of unknown nature and location), and the

certainty that many of their immediate team willchange in that time. After a series of suchpostings, where they achieve little, often grounddown by the bureaucracy and inertia of thesystem, the behavioural response of many issimply to “survive”. It is little wonder that thewell-publicised “learned helplessness” syndromeoften prevails.

As we noted in our introduction, SecretaryHawke appeared to blame leadership for most ofthis “learned helplessness” and chronic sub-standard performance. This article shows that hewas only half right. These are symptoms only,with the causes going deep into the military andPublic Service cultures and their respective senseof their “real” role and how people should bedeveloped. Until these issues are addressed, thesymptoms will continue. But how much longerwill these be tolerated by the Government, thepublic and – above all – the uniformedconstituency?

NOTES

1. This artice is drawn from Chapter 8 of our recentbook, The real C-cubed: culture, careers andclimate and how they affect capability, by NickJans with David Schmidtchen, Canberra Paperson Strategy and Defence No 143, Strategic andDefence Studies Centre, Australian NationalUniversity, Canberra, 2002.

2. Department of Defence, Review of AustralianDefence Force Remuneration, Report (The NunnReview), Canberra, 31 August 2001, p. 9.

3. See: “Battle waging in corridors of Defence”, TheSydney Morning Herald editorial of 21 February2000; Mark Dodd, “Mission accomplished”, TheSydney Morning Herald, 26 February 2000;“Home are the heroes”, The Age editorial, 26February 2000; Defence Secretary’s text at theNational Press Club, Department of Defencewebsite; Peter Cole-Adams, “Defence staff jobson the line”, The Sydney Morning Herald,4 March 2000; Mike Bowers, “Emotions kept incheck at Interfet ‘thank you’”, The SydneyMorning Herald, 8 March 2000; MichaelRichardson, “East Timor peace force is held up asa model”, International Herald Tribune, 28February 2000.

4. A study of Australian service organisationscoming to grips with turbulent business conditionsshowed that this change management strategy isappropriate when an organisation is out of “fit”with its environment, when radical change is


needed to restore its viability, there is no time forextensive consultation within the organisation,and little support for radical change. The majorityof organisations more-or-less successfully usedthis strategy to effect organisational change, inthat all the subject organisations managed tosurvive, albeit with significant short-term costs inservice quality and staff morale. See DexterDunphy and Doug Stace, Under NewManagement: Australian Organisations inTransition, Sydney: McGraw-Hill, 1990.

5. Australian Defence Efficiency Review.6. Nick Jans, Careers in Conflict: A Study of

Services Officers’ Careers and Families inPeacetime, Canberra College of AdvancedEducation, Canberra Series in AdministrativeStudies, No. 10, 1988; Sigma Consultancy,Development of a career decision support systemfor analysis and support of HRM policydevelopment in the Australian Defence Force,Report, 1999.

7. Nick Jans, “Options for ADF human resourcemanagement: part of the solution or part of theproblem?” in Maintaining the Strategic Edge: TheDefence of Australia in 2015,ed. Des Ball,Strategic & Defence Studies Centre, AustralianNational University, 2000; Nick Jans, “Richorganisation, poor organisation: Defenceperformance and military leadership”, AustralianDefence Force Journal No. 142, May/Jun, 2000;Nick Jans and Judy Frazer-Jans, “Job rotation andmilitary capability: benefits, certainly – but is

anyone counting the cost?” Australian DefenceForce Journal No. 146, Jan/Feb, pp. 47-59, 2001.

8. John Halligan, “What is the SES Concept?”Canberra Bulletin of Public Administration, No61, July 1990, 50-52, p. 50.

9. Nick Jans and Judy Frazer-Jans, Careers andCulture in the SES, Public Service Commission,Senior Executive Staffing Unit, Occasional PaperNo. 10, December 1990, pp. 54-55; andhttp://www.psmpc.gov.au/publications96/sesstatspart4.htm.

10. Having made all these points, it must still beconceded that there is a paucity of research onAPS and SES careers. This is especially truewhen it is compared to the volume of informationon ADF careers. We may be makinggeneralisations here but, in the absence of otherresearch, we have little choice.

11. Neil James, Reform of the Defence ManagementParadigm: A Fresh View, Australian DefenceStudies Centre, Working Paper No 59, 2000, p.36.

12. James, op. cit., p. 27.13. Joint Committee on Foreign Affairs, Defence and

Trade: Personnel Wastage in the ADF – Reportand Recommendations, November 1988. (Thiswas know in Defence as the “Cross Report”, afterits chairman.)

14. Review of Australian Defence ForceRemuneration, op. cit.

Nick Jans, PhD, is a Principal of Sigma Consultancy, a firm that specialises in personnel strategy andresearch. He served in the Australian Regular Army from 1961 to 1985 and is currently a brigadier inthe Reserve, most recently chairing Project OPERA (the Officer Professional Effectiveness Review forthe Army).LTCOL David Schmidtchen, PhD, joined the Australian Army in 1989 as a military psychologist.Promoted to Lieutenant Colonel in 2001, he is currently chief of staff of the Action Plan for PeopleTeam. In 2000 the Chief of the Army awarded him a commendation for contributions to strategichuman resource planning in the Army.

29

Operational Level of War Joint CampaignAnalysis: Allied Forces in Papua 21 July

1942-23 January 1943By Lieutenant Colonel Chris Field

[MacArthur’s] GHQ is like a bloody barometer in a cyclone – up and down every two minutes.They’re like the militia – they need to be blooded.1

Major General George VaseyDeputy Chief of the Australian General Staff (later Commander 7th Division in Papua)

27 August 1942

If he [MacArthur] had been born in Australia and had gone to Duntroon [the Australian Army’sRoyal Military College], he could not have shown a higher concern for Australian interests.2

John Curtin, Australian Prime Minister, 22 October 1943

General Douglas MacArthur’s execution of the campaign in the South-West Pacific Area againstthe Japanese from 1942 until 1944 was, from an Australian perspective, paradoxical. His charisma andcharm initially enamoured Australian political and military leaders, but later led to distrust anddisappointment. His successful campaigns through the Solomon Islands, Papua, and New Guineaprovided security to Australia, but his operational plans and proclivity towards interference at thetactical level were often inappropriate. He formed a successful coalition with Australia in Papua andNew Guinea, but at times treated his ally with contempt. MacArthur’s paradox sets the scene for thisarticle on the Allied Campaign in Papua, 21 July 1942-23 January 1943.

his study separates the Papuan campaignof 1942-43 from the geographically

linked New Guinea campaign of 1943-44.MacArthur and Admiral Halsey purposelylinked their two campaigns in Papua and thesecuring of Guadalcanal in their jointdetermination to move the bomber line, whichalong with airlift capability was the Alliedoperational centre of gravity, forward fromAustralia and Port Moresby, to Buna andGuadalcanal. The Guadalcanal and Papuancampaigns represented a transition for theAllies from the defensive to the offensivephase. For the Japanese these simultaneouscampaigns marked their culminating pointswhich occurred at Guadalcanal and 30 milesfrom Port Moresby on the Kokoda Trail. Afterthe successful completion of the Guadalcanal andPapuan campaigns, the Allies had establishedfirm footholds in the Solomons and Papuaforcing the Japanese to consolidate their positions

in the South-West Pacific Area by retracting theirfirst line of defence.3 This vulnerable newdefensive perimeter was the last territorialfrontier preventing the Allied penetration of thePhilippines, and the southern reaches of theGreater East Asian Co-Prosperity Sphere.

The aim of this article is to analyse the Alliedoperations in Papua from the time of theJapanese invasion of Buna on 21-22 July 1942,until the fall of Sanananda to Allied forces on 23January 1943. Emphasis is placed on Australianoperations within the broader strategic andoperational framework that was largely shapedby the United States. This article examines theevents of the Papuan campaign, the strategicsituation the Americans and Australians faced,operational level factors including geography,command and control, campaign planning,coalition and joint operations, enemy forces, andapplications the campaign had for subsequentstrategic Allied goals.

T


Blunting the Japanese OffensivesOn 21 and 22 July 1942 the first of eventually

16,000 Japanese men of General HoriiTomitaro’s elite South Seas Detachment, whichwas the Japanese operational centre of gravity,landed at Buna. They proceeded to push theAustralian forces south along the Kokoda Trackacross the Owen Stanley Range, coming towithin 30 miles of Port Moresby by 17September. Allied efforts fared poorly due to acombination of several factors: being woefullycoordinated, Australian units facing the Japaneseadvance were too small, MacArthur’sintelligence failed to recognise the significantscope of the threat, his South-West PacificCommand was in its nascence, and the Air Forcecommand structure was not functioningproperly.4 Fortunately, Major General Kenney’sappointment as Allied Air Commander broughtdramatic improvements, and assisted theAustralians in blunting the Japanese advance byattacking enemy supply lines that ran over themountains to Buna, on Papua’s north coast.Simultaneously, the Japanese were unable toreinforce their troops in Papua due to the growingimportance of the Guadalcanal campaign.

This forced the Japanese to withdraw backacross the Kokoda Track, under pressure fromthe now advancing Australian 7th Division,whose actions allowed the Allies some breathingspace.

Despite losses in defence of Port Moresby,the Allies launched an operation utilising amotley amphibious fleet to secure Milne Bay, atthe south-eastern end of Papua, on 25 June 1942.The predominantly Australian “Milne Force”supported by US engineers and anti-aircraft unitsbegan to establish what would be one of the greatshipping and air bases in the South Pacific. Thisforce was able to defeat a Japanese amphibiousarmoured-infantry force between 25 August and7 September, the first time that a Japaneseamphibious force had been defeated ashore inWWII.5 This proved to be a triumphant moraland propaganda victory, helping to finally crackand tarnish the myth of Japanese invincibility.

This amphibious advance was followed bythe operations near Gona-Buna-Sanananda.These were characterised by a poor Allied

appreciation of terrain, another intelligencefailure which put the Japanese strength at 2,000when it was closer to 8,000, and the inexperienceof some Australian and all the American staffswhich produced a long and bitter campaign.6 Thisdrawn out operation did not end in Allied victoryuntil 22 January 1943, and included some of themost important operations and battles ever foughtby the Australian Army. However, in many waysthe operations were incidental to MacArthur’sstrategy, as they were fought in reaction to aJapanese thrust, and once they were completedthe territory seized became a springboard forMacArthur to continue the offensive towardRabaul, which he had planned six months earlier.7

The Strategic Situation – The US PerspectiveMacArthur’s campaign design was shaped by

the Joint Chiefs of Staff (JCS) Directive of 2 July1942 which provided three tasks:• Task One: seize and occupy Santa Cruz

Island, Tulagi, and adjacent areas –under the control of AdmiralNimitz which became known asOperation Watchtower;

• Task Two: seize and occupy the remainder ofthe Solomon Islands, Lae,Salamaua, and the North EastCoast of New Guinea; and

• Task Three: seize and occupy Rabaul andadjacent positions in New Guinea-New Ireland area.

MacArthur had the responsibility for taskstwo and three, and therefore had a simultaneouschallenge of dividing his forces and developing amutually supporting campaign against an enemywho had over-reached itself throughout theSolomons and New Guinea. However, the JCSDirective was issued almost three weeks beforethe Japanese surprised the Allies by landing at thekey Papuan town of Buna. This bold move, andsubsequent aggressive Japanese land campaign,delayed MacArthur’s ability to commence tasktwo with operations against the New Guineatowns of Lae and Salamaua by more than 12months.

The conclusion of the Papuan campaignhelped shape the strategic environment thatexisted in early 1943, and would be debatedduring the Allied Casablanca Conference held in

ALLIED FORCES IN PAPUA 21 JULY 1942 - 23 JANUARY 1943 31

January of that year. MacArthur’s preemptive 8January 1943 announcement that virtualtermination of hostilities in Papua had occurred,astonished and angered Allied commanders inPapua; none more so than Generals Eichelbergerand Herring who struggled to “mop up” theremaining 4,500 fiercely determined Japanesedefenders at Sanananda.8 MacArthur had his eyeon the strategic picture in which he wanted tobeat Halsey and the Marines in “turning the firstimportant land victory of the Pacific War”; thusimproving his prestige in Washington, and layingthe basis for the Casablanca ratification of the 2July 1942 JCS strategy aimed at the reduction ofRabaul.9

The Strategic Situation – The AustralianPerspective

The Allied failure to protect Buna anddesperate fighting in the Papuan campaignshaped Australian strategic thinking in the latterhalf of 1942. Close Government scrutiny andattempted influence marked this campaign,unlike other campaigns in which Australia hadbeen involved. There were a number of reasonsfor the close scrutiny including that the battleswere near and vital to Australia, and thepoliticians were inexperienced and tended topanic. Yet the main reason for close attention, asit soon became obvious, was that the campaignhad been shaped by inaccurate strategicassessments.10

The Australian General Thomas Blamey hasbeen criticised for underestimating enemycapabilities, and failing to prepare Port Moresbyfor Japanese attacks. His miscalculationsincluded deploying only two inexperienced andpoorly trained militia brigades, as opposed tobrigades from the combat experienced AustralianImperial Forces, to Port Moresby in May 1942,and making little attempt to cater for other than aseaborne attack.11 MacArthur and Blameyassessed that there was no chance of an overlandapproach on Port Moresby due to terrain andpotential communications challenges across theOwen Stanley Range, creating an alleged“Maginot Line” mentality in the minds ofAustralian and US commanders.

Australia’s strategy was further complicatedby MacArthur’s presence far away to the south in

Australia, where he had become the principalmilitary adviser to the Australian Prime Minister,John Curtin. Using current military terms,MacArthur was at the operational level of warfrom the US perspective, while from theAustralian perspective he was at the strategiclevel. MacArthur was given operational controlover all of the Australian armed forces within theSouth-West Pacific Area, including the entireAustralian continent as well as the islands to thenorth of Australia.12 Curtin’s inexperience inmilitary matters meant that he felt unable tochallenge MacArthur even when Blamey, hissenior Australian military adviser, offered acontrary view.13 This would make Australiaincreasingly marginalised in decision makingduring the Papuan campaign, and particularlyduring the subsequent Allied operations in1943-45.

The Operational Situation – the Impact ofGeography

The Papuan campaign was one of the fewoccasions where MacArthur took territory for thesake of taking territory. In Papua he had to drivethe Japanese back away from Port Moresby, anddecisively engage them at Buna. On the wholeMacArthur’s South-West Pacific Area (SWPA)campaign took place in a maritime environmentwhere he moved through a large area, and wherethe actual seizing of decisive points was in someways incidental to his overall aim.14 He did nothave a large Navy, and so he used the Air Force,his operational centre of gravity, as a strikingforce. He replaced the aircraft carriers he did nothave with bases, which he seized to station hisaircraft. In this way he was able to advance hisbomber line north through the SWPA.MacArthur saw the Papuan campaign as ademonstration of the enormous flexibility ofmodern air power. He stated “the advance ofbomber lines through the seizure of forwardbases meant that a relatively small force ofbombers operating at short and medium rangescould attack under cover of an equally limitedfighter force. Each phase of advance had as itsobjective an airfield, which could serve as astepping stone to the next advance”.15


The Operational Situation – Command andControl

MacArthur’s SWPA was created in April1942. Within this theatre MacArthur was both ajoint commander and coalition commander.MacArthur had the advantage that the US ArmyAir Force (USAAF) was still nominally part ofthe US Army, and after sacking LieutenantGeneral Brett in July 1942 and replacing himwith Major General Kenney, he began to reap therewards of an effective air component that wasdefinitely subordinate to MacArthur. The USNavy, in contrast, was initially unwilling to placeforces under MacArthur as he was an Armycommander. In time this final piece of jointintegration occurred, but throughout thecampaign MacArthur had few US Navypersonnel on his headquarters.16

MacArthur exercised command of this theatrethrough an almost entirely American staffedGeneral Headquarters (GHQ SWPA) whichinitially was located in Melbourne, and at the endof July 1942 moved to Brisbane. MacArthur hadthree principal subordinates. Vice-AdmiralHerbert Leary, USN, (Vice Admiral A.Carpender, USN, from September 1942),commanded Allied Naval Forces, which includedAustralian, New Zealand, Dutch, and US units.General Sir Thomas Blamey of the AustralianArmy became Commander Allied Land Forceswith a Land Headquarters staff which was almostcompletely Australian, and he was alsoCommander-in-Chief of the Australian MilitaryForce, Lieutenant General G. Brett of theUSAAF was commander of the Allied AirForces, which had the only truly combined andintegrated coalition headquarters in the SWPA,and utilised Australian commanders in five areacommands. Kenney changed this structure bycreating the US Fifth Air Force which included aRAAF component, and was responsible for alloperations against the Japanese in Papua andNew Guinea, and he relegated the remainder ofthe RAAF to operations in and from Australia,except for operations from Townsville to NewGuinea.17

MacArthur was dissatisfied with thesecommand arrangements, in particular with theplacement of US forces under an Australian

Army commander. This was despite the situationwhere the Australian Army had 13 divisions inAustralia, several of which were veterans of theNorth Africa campaign, and the Americans hadonly two, neither of which was battle ready ortested.18 To overcome this dilemma MacArthurpersuaded the “meekly acquiescent” PrimeMinister Curtin, to order Blamey to Papua tocommand the land forces during the campaign onSeptember 23, 1942.19 This effectively placedBlamey as a task force commander withinfluence, based on any optimistic assessment, atthe lower end of the operational level of thecampaign. In doing so, MacArthur effectivelyneutralised Blamey’s influence on the overalloperational direction of the subsequent campaign:New Guinea.

The Operational Situation – The 1 October1942 Campaign Plan

The Japanese withdrawal along the KokodaTrack in September 1942 allowed MacArthur’sGHQ SWPA, for the first time, to develop andissue a comprehensive plan with its end state: theenvelopment and destruction of the JapaneseArmy, the enemy’s operational centre of gravity,at the Gona-Buna-Sanananda beachhead.20 Inwhat became known as Stage 1 of the 1 OctoberPlan it was envisioned, after a preliminary assaulton Goodenough Island to secure the coastal routefrom Milne Bay to the northern Papua coast, thata series of sweeps and envelopments along threeaxes of advance would position Allied forces foran attack on Buna in mid November. The 7thAustralian Infantry Division would move in afrontal attack on the first axis, while theAmerican 2d Battalion of the 126th Infantrywould move in a wide flanking movementagainst the enemy lines of communication on thesecond. The end state for the troops advancingalong the first and second axes, their completionof Stage 1, would be the establishment of adefensive line along the Kumusi River. On thethird axis, the 18th Australian Infantry Brigade,fresh from victory at Milne Bay, would sweep upthe north coast of Papua and meet the US 128thInfantry, airlifted from Port Moresby, atWanigela. The two units would then stage atEmbogo for the assault on enemy lines less thanten miles away.21 After all objectives of Stage 1


were secured, Stage 2, the advance upon theGona-Buna-Sanananda area, would be orderedwith all three approaches converging on thebridgehead.22

By using stages in the operation, MacArthurwas careful to link the 1 October Plan with thecontinuing operations in Guadalcanal. Heemphasised that the Japanese controlled the sealines of communications north of Papua, and thatin the short term the Allies did not have “anyreasonable expectation of being able to contestthat control”.23 He feared that a Japanese victoryat Guadalcanal would enable them to concentratetheir efforts in Papua, and so threaten Allied linesof communication. With seaborne resupplyvulnerable, the Allies became heavily reliant onlogistic support from air and native carriers.MacArthur stressed that after Stage 1 the Allieswould be in a position to either: launch an assaultor defend against possible Japanese counter-attacks. He therefore kept the Allied campaignbalanced: not allowing the Allied forces to outrunlines of communication, whilst setting theconditions for the destruction of the Japanese inPapua. The 1 October Plan is a good example ofMacArthur remaining cognisant of Clausewitz’sculminating point of victory – the risks of theadvance would be counter-balanced by a secureline of retreat.24

The Operational Situation – CoalitionOperations

The last stage of the Papuan campaign, whenthe allies closed in on Gona, Buna, andSanananda, was the first major occasion in whichAmerican Army land forces cooperated closelywith Australians, or took part in the groundfighting. However, before the Americans evensaw action, some bad feeling had beenengendered by unfair criticism of the Australiansby senior American officers in Brisbane duringthe fighting on the Kokoda Track in September1942.25 Statements such as “the Australian is not abushman; he is not a field soldier. He is nothingbut a city slum dweller”, and that the Australians“won’t fight”, caused anger amongst theAustralians and led them to watch closelythe performance of the Americans in theirfirst campaign.26

It had been previously noted at GHQ SWPAthat “it was afraid to turn the Americans looseand let them capture Buna because it would be ablow to the prestige of the Australians who hadfought the long hard battle through the OwenStanley Mountains (sic) and who thereforeshould be the ones to capture Buna”.27 Americanconfidence soon withered when their assault onBuna on 19 November 1942 was repulsed.MacArthur then bypassed the chain of command,and ordered US Major General Hardingcommanding the US 32d Division, a NationalGuard unit from Michigan and Wisconsin, to takeBuna at all costs.28

The fighting broke down, and the Australiansnow began to complain that the Americans wouldnot fight, with General Vasey of the Australian7th Division stating that the Americans had“maintained a masterly inactivity”.29 Lack ofAustralian confidence in Harding, especially bythe Commander New Guinea Force, LieutenantGeneral E.F. Herring as well as Blamey, largelyled to him being relieved by MacArthur andreplaced by Lieutenant General R.L. Eichelbergerin late November 1942. After waiting forAustralian tanks and the build up of Allied airpower Eichelberger attacked Buna, and with theassistance of the fresh and experienced Australian18th Brigade captured the village on 18December 1942.30

One lesson of the Buna experience appears tobe that the influence of a junior partner in acoalition is related directly to the relativeperformances of the fighting troops; or morestrictly, to perceptions of their relativeperformance.31 This is especially poignant when itis considered that the Australians had similarbloody experiences in clearing the Japanese fromthe swamps of Gona and Sanananda, which didnot fall until 9 December 1942 and 23 January1943 respectively. Eichelberger who urgedMacArthur not to let the Australian’s “talk downtheir noses to you” did not miss this point.32 Thiscaused friction in the Allied command when on27 December MacArthur ordered the 163rdRegiment of the US 41st Division to be sent toEichelberger’s command. Blamey, asCommander of the Allied Land Forces, was lividthat MacArthur had again bypassed the chain of


command; partly because he had intended theregiment to be sent to Vasey’s command in theSanananda area, and partly because he felt thiswas a matter of principle on which he shouldmake a stand.33

In a letter written by Blamey to MacArthur,he stated that unity of command was threatenedby MacArthur’s actions and that the alteration ofthe plan would profoundly disturb Herring’sconfidence and upset his operations. MacArthurdisagreed that he was interfering at the tacticallevel, and stated that he was “merely strategicallyadvising as to where I believe it would be best toexert the main effort of the ground forces.”34 Theexperience of the Papuan campaign had animportant impact on MacArthur, for in earlyJanuary 1943 he began gradually to removeAmerican units from Australian command. Itwould be an exaggeration to claim that theproblems of Allied cooperation in late 1942contributed wholly to this action, but the eventsin Buna, and Blamey’s humiliating taunts,convinced MacArthur that it was a path he shouldtake.35

The Operational Situation – Joint OperationsAmphibious landings along Papua’s north

coast, especially at Milne Bay, displayed theAllied ability to conduct joint operations from thesea. However, the Milne Bay operation wascharacterised by the innovative use of fishingboats, luggers, row boats, and even outriggercanoes,36 rather than naval assets which wereincreasingly required for the Solomons and widerPacific campaign. This also meant that navalgunfire support was almost non-existent,resulting in Allied units and resupply convoysbeing exposed to enemy air attack, and delayedship-to-shore movement of troops and supplies.

In search of more reliable air and amphibioussupport, MacArthur organised a new unit forfuture campaigns: the engineer special brigade.These brigades were designed to carry troops andequipment ashore, organise beaches, andconstruct airfields.37 However, despite the lack ofnaval assets, approximately half of the suppliesfor the Gona-Buna-Sanananda operation wereseaborne.38

The problem for Allied movement fromMilne Bay to Buna was Admiral Carpender’s

refusal to provide destroyers to escort seabornemoves along the Papuan coast, due to thetreacherous reef filled waters off Buna andsubsequent lack of “sea room” in which tomanoeuvre.39 Eventually Carpender providedsome shallow-draft anti-submarine vessels forescort duties, but no destroyers. This meant theAir Force, in addition to bearing close supportand supply responsibilities, would have to carryalmost the entire burden of protecting Alliedsupply movements northward of Milne Bay, andof beating back enemy attempts to reinforce thebeachhead.

Kenney’s Fifth Air Force, the Alliedoperational centre of gravity, whilst providingmagnificent support to the Allies advancing fromPort Moresby, faltered during the operationsaround Gona-Buna-Sanananda. Kenney’s boldstatement that “the artillery in this theater flies,”40

erroneously led Allied planners to ignore thedeployment of artillery and tanks to supportAustralian and US infantry attacks in late 1942.Once air support arrived it was at timesinadequate, with only 121 sorties flown at Gona-Buna-Sanananda, with bad weather often leadingpilots to miss targets, and with jungle conditionsdeceiving the Fifth Air Force to bomb US troopson several occasions outside Buna.41 The criticalvulnerabilities of the Fifth Air Force were that ithad too few planes for its multitude of tasks;many of its pilots were inexperienced; the planesavailable for close air support were in general notsuited to the role; and air-ground liaison wasvirtually non-existent. Communications were sobad that there was not a single instance during theGona-Buna-Sanananda operation of a pilothaving successful radio contact with the troops onthe ground.42 This led the ground forces toconclude that the Air Force, while excellent forarea bombing, could not be relied on for pin-pointbombing of enemy positions under attack byfrontline troops.

These inadequacies were partially offset bythe excellent troop, supply, and casualtymovement performed by aircraft over the OwenStanley Range, moving from Port Moresby toBuna in 35 minutes compared with 18 to 28 daysby land, especially once the plans for the attackon Buna had been made. A total of 14,900 troops


were flown to the Buna area by C-47s during theGona-Buna-Sanananda operation, and 6,000 sickor wounded were evacuated.43

The Operational Situation - Enemy ForcesThe centre of gravity in New Guinea, the

South Seas Detachment under the command ofMajor General Horii, seized Lae and Salamauaon the north coast of New Guinea in March 1942.In consultation with General Hyakutake of theJapanese 17th Army, who took his orders directlyfrom the Japanese Imperial GeneralHeadquarters, Horii planned to conduct a doublethrust against Port Moresby and Milne Bay from21 July.44 This marked the start of the Papuancampaign and these two operations were part ofHyakutake’s overall strategy, which aimed at thecreation of an iron ring around north-eastAustralia through the capture of New Caledonia,Fiji, Samoa, and Port Moresby.45

Japanese critical vulnerabilities in the Papuacampaign hinged on three aspects. First, theybadly miscalculated the Allied strength at MilneBay, which aborted their double drive on PortMoresby. Second, the Guadalcanal operationsiphoned troops and resources away from theKokoda Track operation thereby forcing theJapanese to withdraw to the Papuan north coast.Third, the Japanese logistic system was over-extended which, combined with Allied air-superiority that limited shipping movements,prevented them sustaining their troops in mostparts of Papua.

The dire Japanese situation at the time of theGona-Buna-Sanananda operation led, in part, tothe creation of the 8th Area Army on 16November 1942, commanded by LieutenantGeneral Imamura and headquartered in Rabaul.From this point the huge span of controlpreviously held by Hyakutake’s 17th Army,hitherto responsible for New Guinea, Papua, andthe Solomons, ended allowing that Army tooperate exclusively in the Solomons.46 The 18thArmy, to be commanded by Lieutenant GeneralAdachi, was formed to operate in New Guineawith the initial task of retrieving the situation inPapua. This organisational restructuring failed tosolve Japan’s fundamental problem: strategicover-extension.

ConclusionThis campaign analysis has examined Allied

operations in Papua from the Japanese invasionof Buna 21-22 July 1942, until the fall ofSanananda to Allied forces 23 January 1943, withan emphasis on Australian operations within abroader strategic and operational frameworklargely shaped by the United States. This articlehas examined the events of the Papuan campaign,the strategic situation the Americans andAustralians faced, the operational situationincluding geographic factors, command andcontrol, campaign planning, coalition and jointoperations, enemy forces, and applications thecampaign had for subsequent strategic goals ofthe Allies.

The end of the Papuan campaign completedthe first defeat of a Japanese land force duringWWII. They employed about 20,000 men in theKokoda, Milne Bay, and Gona-Buna-Sananandaoperations, and it is estimated that 13,000 ofthose perished. Of the balance, only 2,000 wereevacuated by sea, with 5,000 troops missing. TheAustralians lost 5,698 men, and the Americanssuffered 2,931 battle casualties.47

The victory in Papua destroyed any Japanesechances of invading Australia, and providedMacArthur with a springboard to continue hisinexorable drive to reclaim the Philippines. Theprice paid by Australian forces was theexhaustion of four of the six brigades of the 6thand 7th Divisions. In the absence of theAustralian 9th Division, which was still returningfrom operations in the Middle East, the Alliedoffensive into New Guinea would be delayeduntil Australian forces were again able tospearhead the Allied thrust.48

For Australian-American relations thecampaign had largely positive effects. MacArthurhad dazzled Australian politicians, while clashingwith Australian military commanders, especiallyBlamey. The Allies had held on against adetermined foe, and turned near defeat into agritty victory on the northern shores of Papua.Two key outcomes: the first battle-test of the USArmy and its commanders under the conditionswhich were to attend much of the ground fightingin the Pacific, and the first land campaign defeatof the Japanese Army did much to strengthen the


coalition and friendship between Australia andthe United States which has continued into the21st century.

NOTES1. Firkins, P., The Australians in Nine Wars –

Waikato to Long Tan, McGraw-Hill, 1971,p. 331.

2. Wahlert, G, (ed), Australian Army AmphibiousOperations in the South-West Pacific: 1942-45,Australian Army Doctrine Centre, Sydney, 1995,p. 20.

3. Reports of General MacArthur, Chap V, “Upfrom Papua,” p. 101.

4. Weinberg, G.L., A World at Arms; A GlobalHistory of World War II, Cambridge UniversityPress, Cambridge, United Kingdom, pp. 339.

5. ibid., p. 340.6. ibid.7. Wahlert, (ed), op cit., p. 31.8. Horner, D.M., High Command – Australia and

Allied Strategy 1939-1945, George Allen &Unwin, Canberra, 1982, p. 247.

9. ibid., p. 247.10. ibid., p. 215.11. ibid., p. 217.12. Wahlert, op. cit, p. 29.13. Horner, op. cit., p. 220.14. Wahlert, op. cit., p. 47.15. Weigley, R.F., The American Way of War,

Indiana University Press, 1973, p. 280.16. Wahlert, op. cit., p. 28.17. ibid., p. 30.18. ibid.19. Grey, J., Dr., A Military History of Australia,

Cambridge University Press, Melbourne, 1990, p.177.

20. Milner, S., The War in the Pacific – Victory inPapua, United States Army in World War II,Washington, D.C. 1957, p.101.

21. The US Army Campaigns of World War II,“Papua”, US Government Printing Office, 1992,pp. 7.

22. Heller, C.E. & Stoft, W.A. (ed.), America’s FirstBattles, 1776-1965, University of Kansas Press,1986, p. 195.

23. Milner, op. cit., p. 102.24. ibid.25. Horner, op. cit., p. 288.26. Spector, op. cit., p. 190.27. Horner, op.cit., p. 288.28. Center of Military History, Papuan Campaign –

The Buna-Sanananda Operation, United StatesArmy, Washington, D.C., 1990, p. 4.

29. Horner, op. cit., p. 288.30. ibid.31. ibid.32. ibid. p. 289.33. ibid.34. ibid., p. 290.

35. ibid., p. 291.36. The US Army Campaigns of World War II,

“Papua”, US Government Printing Office, 1992,p. 9.

37. The US Army Campaigns of World War II, op.cit., p. 21.

38. ibid., p. 22.39. Milner, op cit., p. 128.40. The US Army Campaigns of World War II, op.

cit., p. 20.41. ibid., p. 13.42. Milner, op. cit., pp. 375.43. Center of Military History, Papuan Campaign –

The Buna-Sanananda Operation, United StatesArmy, Washington, D.C., 1990, p. 20.

44. Firkins, op. cit., p. 316.45. Milner, op. cit., p. 45.46. ibid., p. 146.47. Firkins, op. cit., p. 350.48. Dexter, D., “The New Guinea Offensives”,

Australia in the War of 1939-1945, AustralianArmy Official History, Canberra, 1968, p. 55.

BIBLIOGRAPHYCenter of Military History, Papuan Campaign – The

Buna-Sanananda Operation, United States Army,Washington, D.C., 1990.

Dexter, D., “The New Guinea Offensives”, Australiain the War of 1939-1945, Australian ArmyOfficial History, Canberra, 1968.

Firkins, P., The Australians in Nine Wars – Waikato toLong Tan, McGraw-Hill, 1971.

Grey, J., Dr., A Military History of Australia,Cambridge University Press, Melbourne, 1990.

Heller, C.E. & Stoft, W.A. (ed.), America’s FirstBattles, 1776-1965, University of Kansas Press,1986.

Horner, D.M., High Command – Australia and AlliedStrategy 1939-1945, George Allen & Unwin,Canberra, 1982.

Miller, John, “CARTWHEEL: The Reduction ofRabaul”, United States Army in World War II,Washington D.C., 1958.

Milner, S., “The War in the Pacific – Victory inPapua”, United States Army in World War II,Washington, D.C. 1957.

Reports of General MacArthur, Chap V, “Up fromPapua”.

Spector, R.H., Eagle Against the Sun – The AmericanWar with Japan, The Free Press, New York,1985.

The US Army Campaigns of World War II, “Papua”,US Government Printing Office, 1992.

Wahlert, G, (ed), Australian Army AmphibiousOperations in the South-West Pacific: 1942-45,Australian Army Doctrine Centre, Sydney, 1995.

Weigley, R.F., The American Way of War, IndianaUniversity Press, 1973.

Weinberg, G.L., A World at Arms; A Global History ofWorld War II, Cambridge University Press,Cambridge, United Kingdom, 1994.

37

his article describes the impact of the RMAthat occurred in the French Army at the end

of the 18th century. Much of the military historyof the Napoleonic era focuses on Napoleon’stactical and strategic genius. However his truegenius lay in building upon the technical, tacticaland organisational foundations laid by hispredecessors of the late 18th century, in additionto realising the profound socio-politicaltransformation resulting from the FrenchRevolution. This is best illustrated in the 1806Prussian campaign, specifically at the battle ofJena-Auerstädt, where the key to the GrandeArmée’s victory over the Prussians was itssuperiority in both technology and ideas.

Military Revolutions and Revolutions inMilitary Affairs

Williamson Murray and MacGregor Knoxare two of a mere handful of academics who haveconsidered the RMA concept within its historicalcontext. In their authoritative work The Dynamicsof Military Revolution, 1300-2050,2 they describe

two parallel phenomena – military revolutionsand RMAs. Both of these are crucial tounderstanding periods of radical militaryinnovation.

Military revolutions, Murray and Knox argue,are changes in the nature and purpose of waritself. The defining feature of military revolutionis that it “changes the framework of war”.3

Military revolutions “have brought systemicchanges in politics and society”, “recast societyand the state as well as military organisations”,and “alter the capacity of states to create andproject military power.” Most importantly from amilitary perspective, and distinguishing themfrom RMAs, military revolutions have been“uncontrollable, unpredictable andunforeseeable.” They are a socio-politicalphenomenon to which military institutions mustbe attuned in order to respond effectively to therevolutionary changes thrust upon them. Murrayand Knox further point out that the effects ofmilitary revolution are “additive”, in that states

Capitalising on Military Revolution:Lessons from the Grande Armée’s Victory at

Jena-AuerstädtBy Major Stuart McCarthy, RAE

The French Army had grown up and adapted itself to its work by contact with the actual hard factsof war. The Prussian rulers were soldiers only and not statesmen, hence they failed to perceive howprofoundly the whole nature of war had been influenced by the growth of the spirit of nationality whichfound its expression in the armies of the French Revolution.

F.N. Maude The Jena Campaign 18061

Proponents of the contemporary revolution in military affairs (RMA) might have us believe that anRMA is a “new” phenomenon. On the contrary, the RMA with which we are presently confronted isonly the most recent in a recurring historical theme. As we ponder the impact of the current RMA onfuture warfare, numerous lessons can be drawn from the manner in which military forces havecapitalised on the RMAs of the past. Foremost of these lessons is that revolutionary military innovationhas resulted not only from technological change, with which we tend to be most fascinated, but moreimportantly the associated sociological and political change. Despite the aspirations of militarycommanders through the centuries, successful military innovation is generally the result of suchchanges rather than the cause. Only through understanding change and innovation in historical contextcan we hope to emulate the successful endeavours of our predecessors.

T


that have not undergone the socio-politicalchanges of preceding revolutions cannot easily“leapfrog” to the present by adopting theparaphernalia of their more advancedadversaries.4

RMAs on the other hand, are initiated bymilitary organisations by developing new waysof defeating their opponents. In order to do this“they must come to grips with fundamentalchanges in the social, political, and militarylandscapes; in some cases they must anticipatethose changes”. RMAs require “the assembly of acomplex mix of tactical, organisational, doctrinal,and technological innovations in order toimplement a new conceptual approach towarfare”. They can occur relatively quicklyduring war but may take decades in peacetime,leading some to question the term “revolu-tionary”. The significance of those RMAsembarked upon in peacetime is rarely appreciateduntil the advent of war, where “battlefieldoutcomes usually make pitilessly clear whichmilitary organisation has innovated mosteffectively”. Most importantly, RMAs are rarelydriven by technology, and require a culturepermissive of innovation and debate.5

In summary, military revolutions bringchanges to the nature and purposes of war,resulting from socio-political change, whereasRMAs bring changes to the methods and meansof war in response to the changes occurring to thesociety within which military organisations exist,including the technology at their disposal. All ofthese changes were evident in France during thelate 18th and early 19th centuries.

Before the Revolution(s) - Dynastic WarfareWarfare through the Middle Ages and the

early 18th century was the domain of theEuropean nobility and aristocracy, hence it isoften referred to as dynastic warfare. Armies ofthis era were comprised of mercenaries and theservants of feudal lords or monarchs, often of avariety of nationalities, usually assembledimmediately before the onset of war. Standingarmies became the norm as finances improvedamong the royalty, but were still multi-national incomposition. Class rather than merit determinedmilitary status; officers were from the nobilityand upper classes, whereas enlisted soldiers were

serfs, peasants, unemployed or vagabonds, eitherlegitimately recruited or pressed into service.Enforcing discipline and preventing desertionwere the two greatest challenges for every leader.

Technology and ideas also imposedlimitations on the methods and means of war.Campaigns were severely limited in range by aninability to transport large quantities ofequipment and supplies. Even after theappearance of gunpowder, weaponry remainedcumbersome and warfare remained relativelystatic in nature. Battles were characterised byrigid, linear tactics, with opponents exchangingvolleys of musket fire at close range until oneside broke. Both sides would endure horrendouslosses, usually preventing the “victorious” armyfrom pursuing its defeated foe. The nature ofdynastic warfare often forced commanders toavoid decisive engagement with the enemy,making battles often inconclusive andstrategically indecisive.

Despite such limitations, the Prussian Armyof Frederick the Great was a master of dynasticwarfare. At Rossbach on 5 November 1757Frederick’s 22,000 strong army defeated an alliedarmy of more than 40,000 French and Germantroops. The Allies’ commander Soubize, hopingto outflank the Prussians, had advanced on theirencampment in column of march. Respondingquickly to the threat however, the main Prussianforce deployed to meet the Allies on thebattlefield while their cavalry swept over a ridgeto catch the Allies still in column of march. TheAllies’ advance guard was scattered, then thePrussian infantry wheeled into the path of theAllied army and reduced the French and Germaninfantry to disarray in less than 15 minutes. TheAllies were swept from the battlefield, sustaining5,000 casualties and a further 5,000 werecaptured, whereas the Prussians suffered littlemore than 500 casualties.6 This was a resoundingvictory, exemplifying Prussian mastery of the18th century style of dynastic warfare. However adramatic change in the nature of warfare was tooccur during the second half of that century,brought about by the onset of rapid populationgrowth, the modernisation process which laterculminated in the industrial revolution, the

CAPITALISING ON MILITARY REVOLUTION 39

French and American Revolutions, andinnumerable other socio-political factors.7

The French Revolution(s) and the GrandeArmée

The revolutionary patterns described byMurray and Knox are reflected in both themilitary innovations of the Royal French Armyduring the second half of the 18th century and itsadaptation to the socio-political upheaval of theFrench Revolution. Responding to their dramaticdefeat at Rossbach, the Royal Army embarkedupon a series of technical, tactical andorganisational reforms which, over a period ofseveral decades, changed both the methods andmeans of war and culminated in what is nowclassified as an RMA.

There were three major developments inmeans and methods made by the Royal Armyduring the first phase of the RMA. The first ofthese was a series of improvements in artilleryundertaken by General Jean de Gribeauval,Inspector General of the French Artillery beforethe Revolution. Before the mid 18th century,metal manufacturing technology imposed severelimitations on the production of artillery pieces.The large, heavy cast-iron cannons of this era,though adequate for relatively static siege warfareor use on naval vessels, were too cumbersome tobe effectively employed on the open battlefield.The perfection of Jean Maritz’s cannon-boringmachinery during the 1750s however, enabledthe development and introduction of a newfamily of lightweight artillery pieces. These couldbe quickly manoeuvred around the battlefield andbrought into action, where a well-trained crewcould bring high rates of accurate fire to bear onthe enemy.8 Gribeauval proposed a series ofreforms that sought to fully exploit this newtechnology, which were approved by Louis XVIin 1774. Technical reforms included thestandardisation of field artillery types (intotwelve-, eight- and four-pounder categories),lightening of barrels and carriages (the new eight-pounder was half the weight of its predecessor),the introduction of inclination markers andgunnery tables, and the production of pre-packaged ammunition. Correspondingorganisational improvements included formationof the standard eight-gun battery, and attachment

of these batteries to infantry units.9 Thus theartillery was integrated into the combined armsteam alongside the cavalry and infantry,contributing mobile, accurate firepower andshock action to the French arsenal.

The second major series of developmentswere organisational. As the sizes of armiesincreased and campaign distances lengthened,commanders struggled to overcome thechallenges of command and control, logistics,tactics and personnel administration.10 Accuratemapping, the use of concise written orders, andthe consequent raising of a specialist corps ofstaff officers, sought to meet the foremost ofthese challenges. De Segur, the French Ministerof War, formed a Corps d’Etat Major in theRoyal Army in 1783.11 However the mostsignificant development was the inception of thedivision. Prior to this innovation, armies werecomprised of a collection of individual regiments;formations above regimental level weretemporary, without permanent commanders,headquarters or staffs. The establishment of self-contained divisions, with a balanced compositionof infantry, cavalry and artillery, sawunprecedented improvements in command andcontrol, tactics and logistics.12 Although Marshalde Broglie had experimented with divisionsduring the Seven Years War, they were not reallypractical until the network of European highwayswas extended before 1789. These macadamisedroads were the first modern all-weatherhighways, and stood up to the heavy traffic oflarge army formations.13 The divisionalorganisation became standard in 1796.14

The third major development was in infantrytactics, including the introduction of Comte deGuibert’s column of divisions. In this formationthe companies of an infantry battalion weredrawn up one behind the other with shortintervals, or “divisions”, between them. Thesewere able to move rapidly towards the enemybehind a screen of skirmishers, then either closewith the bayonet while remaining in column, ordeploy quickly into a firing line by having thefirst company stand fast and the others quicklyform on its flanks. The close column was easierto handle than a long, perfectly dressed line, andthe French infantry’s speed and flexibility was


dramatically enhanced.15 Numerous variations ofthe column of divisions were employed and alively debate ensued for many years,16 but theFrench tactics were eventually duplicated innearly all European armies except the British.

Unfortunately much of the work of theFrench military leadership during the period wasthwarted due to resistance from Louis XV andLouis XVI, and the intervening Revolution. AsJohn Elting observes however, “In the long runtheir work would not be wasted; Napoleon, hismarshals and the Grande Armée would profitrichly from it.”17 The developments of the RoyalArmy in the years preceding the FrenchRevolution established the foundation forNapoleon’s successes early in the 19th century.

This process of deliberate reform wasinterrupted by the upheaval of the FrenchRevolution which, in altering the nature andpurposes of war in such radical fashion, is theclearest example of military revolution in modernhistory. The national revolt in 1789 resulted inthe transfer of many royal powers to an electedNational Assembly, the abolition of last vestigesof feudality, and the formation of a citizen soldiermilitia called the National Guard. After LouisXVI attempted to leave France unsuccessfully in1791, the National Assembly required a new oathof allegiance to the French nation from everymilitary officer. In January 1793 the NationalConvention, which had replaced the NationalAssembly, sent Louis XVI to the guillotine,inflaming much of royal Europe against theforces of the Revolution. The First Coalition,formed by Spain, Holland, Austria, Prussia,England and Sardinia in Spring that year, sent400,000 troops into the field against France,triggering a series of armed conflicts acrossEurope not to be concluded until almost a quarterof a century later. The National Conventionproclaimed the levee en masse in August, makingall able-bodied Frenchmen of military age liablefor conscription and placing all of the economicresources of France, including civilian labour, atthe disposal of the Government for waging war.By December 1794 over one million Frenchmenwere under arms and Paris had become thelargest arms-producing centre in the world.18

Changes in the nature and purpose of warbrought about by the French Revolution establishit as one of Murray and Knox’s militaryrevolutions, marking the historical transition fromdynastic to national warfare. During the decadesthat followed, the nature of warfare wastransformed from conflicts between the subjectsof monarchs to conflicts between the citizens ofnations. The era of national warfare continueduntil its zenith during the Second World War, inwhich the unlimited aims, scale and means of warled to the term “total war”. In the meantime,France, as the first European republic, waged aseries of wars against the surroundingmonarchies. The French Army epitomised whatDavid Gibson calls the “revolutionary spirit ofthe citizen army”,19 in itself exerting a dramaticimpact on the conduct of war, and compoundingthe effects of the ongoing RMA.

Egalitarianism was the key theme in thesubsequent reforms of the French military. Meritrather than status became the basis forappointments and promotions. The hallmark ofthe French soldier was his élan – his morale andinitiative distinguishing him from his browbeatenenemies. John Elting argues that the Frenchsoldiers “were of a higher average intelligencethan the enemy’s ‘walking muskets’, and theFrench Government’s system of indoctrinationconvinced many of them that they fought forliberty, equality and fraternity against themiserable slaves of foreign despots” .20 Napoleonhimself said of his troops’ élan:

A good general, good cadres, goodorganisation, good instruction, and gooddiscipline can produce good troops,regardless of the cause they fight for. It istrue, however, that fanaticism, love ofcountry, and national glory can better inspireyoung soldiers. 21

The moral element of war, epitomised byFrench élan and initiative, had a tremendousinfluence on strategy and tactics. Commanders atevery level were encouraged to use their initiativein adhering to their commanders’ intent, insteadof slavishly following prescriptive orders. Theconventional 70 paces per minute laid down inthe drill manual was abandoned in favour of anunprecedented 120 paces per minute, allowing a


French column to routinely march 30 kilometresper day.22 Napoleon’s Maxim 9 exemplifies thesignificance of the forced march within hisoperational art:

The strength of an army, like power inmechanics, is reckoned by multiplying themass by the rapidity. A rapid march increasesthe morale of an army, and increases itsmeans of victory. Press on! 23

The employment of skirmishers ahead ofeach column of divisions “gave scope for naturalindividualism, élan and intelligence of theFrenchman.”24 This professionalism and fightingspirit underpinned even further enhancements toorganisations and tactics.

After the Revolution, the RMA itselfcontinued in earnest, with a renewed focus onpreparing for war against the aristocratic powersthat surrounded France. On rising to power in1799, Napoleon “received his army readyfashioned and tempered for war from hispredecessors of the late Ancien Regime and theearly Revolution”,25 however he took nohesitation in further refining the innovations ofGribeauval, Guibert, the Duc de Broglie andother military intellectuals. Numerousevolutionary improvements and adaptations weremade, once again leading to the development ofnew techniques in the art of war.

The rationale for the divisional structureinherited by Napoleon was applied to establishbalanced, independent formations at both higherand lower levels. At the lower level, compactformations known as demi-brigades, comprisedof several regiments or battalions, were oftentask-organised for specific operations, in muchthe same way that we constitute battlegroupstoday. At the higher level, corps d’ armée wereestablished to form the building blocks of theGrande Armée, each commanded by one ofNapoleon’s marshals. Typical of these wasDavout’s III Corps at Auerstädt, consising ofthree infantry divisions (including 12 line and onelight infantry regiments), a cavalry brigade (ofthree chasseurs a cheval regiments), and 46 guns(29 in the infantry divisions and 17 in the corpsartillery). Its total strength was 28,874 infantry,1,426 cavalry, plus artillerymen and auxiliarytroops. This organisation was capable of moving

along several routes simultaneously, operatingindependently, and holding its own while underattack by superior forces until the arrival of othercorps to support it.26

New campaigning methods were developedby Napoleon to fully exploit the inherentstrengths of his corps d’ armée. These revolvedaround the dual axioms of assembly andconcentration, emphasising both the self-sufficiency of each formation and mutual supportthat could be achieved by deploying them withinone day’s march of each other. Napoleonfavoured three broad types of strategic (read“operational”) manoeuvre: la manoeuvre sur lesderrieres (envelopment manoeuvre); the strategyof “central position”; and the “strategicpenetration”.27 The first of these was his mostsuccessful, and was used in his advance intoPrussia in 1806. Such operational concepts werethe forerunner to the modern understanding of“manoeuvre warfare”.

Although Napoleon seldom intervened intactics after taking command of the GrandeArmée, he did contribute to the evolution ofcombined arms tactics. A typical Napoleonicbattle would commence with a heavy artillerybombardment, under which light infantry wouldadvance to add musketry fire to the engagement.A series of coordinated heavy cavalry andinfantry attacks would invariably follow; thecavalry attacks compelling the enemy infantry toform squares, whilst the French infantry andartillery would force their way through theresulting gaps. The artillery would then engagethe enemy from the flanks and rear, and thecavalry would sweep forward to exploit thebreakthrough. Such close cooperation betweenthe combat arms was extremely effective,dominating the battlefields of Europe untilsuccessful countermeasures were developed laterby Wellington.28 The enhanced firepower, speedand flexibility resulting from these ideas becamethe hallmarks of Napoleonic warfare.

Changes in the nature and purposes of war, aswell as the methods and means with which it waspursued, were well and truly revolutionary. InElting’s words, “The French Revolution haddone more than take a King’s head and spillnoble blood; there was an overflow of new ideas


as well as violence.”29 In the years following theFrench Revolution Napoleon’s Grande Arméecapitalised not only on the RMA, but also thesocio-political developments of the Revolution.This lay in stark contrast to their opponents.

The Prussian ArmyThe Prussian Army of 1806 and its leadership

were the antithesis of the Grande Armée. Buoyedby their historical success, they were reliant uponoutdated ideas, organisations and technology.Concepts and doctrine remained unchanged fromthe days of Frederick the Great. The tradition ofharsh discipline produced “an army ofautomatons”30 who adhered to a rigid system ofshoulder-to-shoulder drill, in which precision wasmore desirable than speed or flexibility. Whilethe infantry were well disciplined, over-regimentation led to formalised tactics thatdiscouraged initiative, and most were issued with50-year-old pattern muskets. The cavalry werebold but intensely conservative in organisationand role. The artillery arm was large in size butbadly handled and often misemployed.31

Although they were numerically superior tothe French, the Prussians could field only171,000 troops out of a total strength of 254,000due to flawed administration. Strategic mobilitywas reduced to a minimum through reliance onenormous supply trains and fixed magazines andsupply depots. There was no proper staff corpsand no corps HQs, and divisional staffs werepoorly organised. As a result, orders fromgeneral HQ had to be incredibly detailed andoften contradicted the actual situation on theground. The chain of command and decision-making processes used in 1806 were soconvoluted that David Chandler referred to thePrussian hierarchy as a “many-headed hydra”.32

An interesting comparison between thePrussian and French Armies is the relative age oftheir commanders. At Jena-Auerstädt Napoleonand his marshals were aged in their late thirties toearly forties. The Prussian commanders,however, were positively elderly. Thecommander, Charles William Ferdinand (theDuke of Brunswick) was 71; his rival FriedrichLudwig (Prince of Hohenlohe) was 61; cavalryGeneral von Blücher was 64; and von Mollendorf– the senior royal adviser who still fancied

himself as a field commander – the grand old ageof 81.33 Striking a balance between youth andexperience, able to withstand the physical andmental rigors of modern warfare, and fullyaccustomed to the new way of warfare, theFrench commanders would simply run ringsaround their Prussian counterparts.

Despite these shortcomings morale was highand an air of “effortless superiority” pervaded allranks.34 Amid this environment the Prussians didnot envisage the disaster that was about to occurat the hands of Napoleon. In Chandler’s words,“the warriors of Prussia had to be taught the hardway that the realities of warfare had changedbeyond all recognition in the 50 years sinceRossbach and Leuthen.”35

The Prussian CampaignAfter the destruction of the Third Coalition at

Austerlitz in December 1805, Napoleon turnedhis attention to Prussia. Under Frederick WilliamIII Prussia had avoided participation in earlierhostilities alongside Russia and Austria underthinly disguised neutrality, but had planned to“share in the liquidation of the French Empire” inthe event of Napoleon’s anticipated collapse.36

The Prussian Government was Napoleon’s firsttarget in a number of political dealings aimed toconsolidate French domination over Europe. Dueto the disposition of the Grande Armée on itssouthern frontier Prussia seemingly had littleoption but to capitulate, however in August 1806Frederick William decided to go to war againstFrance. Once again, as F.N. Maude highlights,the scene was set for an epic struggle between theFrench republic and one of its aristocraticopponents:

Here the old and the new school, absoluteMonarchy and Democracy, both in theirhighest form of embodiment, met one anotherunder fairly equal conditions, …37

True to form, but contrary to the responseinitially anticipated by the Prussian militaryleadership, Napoleon took the offensive.However, unlike the prelude to his victory overthe Third Coalition the year before, the politicalsituation leading up to the invasion of Prussia in1806 resulted in a high degree of uncertainty. Hiscampaign plan was to advance through Saxony toLeipzig, in order to threaten Berlin, whilst


avoiding the Russian Army which had reeledback into Poland after Austerlitz. In opening hisoffensive he faced two challenges. First, thedifficult passage of the Franconian Forest; andsecond, uncertainty as to the exact whereaboutsand intentions of the enemy. These wereovercome by forming his corps into thecelebrated bataillon carre, in the Bamberg-Bayreuth area along the River Main. The GrandeArmée was thus deployed in three columns: thecorps of Soult and Ney on the right; Bernadotteand Davout in the centre; and Lannes andAugereou on the left. The advantages of thisformation were numerous. The components ofeach column were able to provide mutual supportduring the crossing, and in the event that thePrussians opposed the head of one column as itemerged from the forest, the remaining columns

could be manoeuvred to engage the enemydetachment from the rear.38

The columns of the Grande Arméecommenced their advance on 8 October whileMurat’s light cavalry squadrons rode ahead toconduct route reconnaissance tasks andendeavoured to locate the Prussian positions. Thecrossing of the Franconian Forest was completedwithout opposition, with each of the Frenchcolumns covering approximately 50km in a dayand a half. The first significant engagementoccurred the following day at Schleiz, whereBernadotte and Murat quickly cleared an advancePrussian detachment. At this stage Napoleonanticipated that Lannes, leading his left column,would encounter a strong enemy force at Saalfeldthe next day. Confusion reigned in the Prussiancamp, and on 10 October what was initiallyplanned as a general advance over the River

The Prussian Campaign, 8-10 OctoberMap courtesy of US Military Academy


Saale to support the withdrawal from Schleiz,became the ill-fated deployment of a meredivision, approximately 8,000 men under PrinceLouis against Lannes’ corps at Saalfeld. Theinevitable defeat convinced the Prussiancommanders to order a general northwardwithdrawal towards the Elbe River, initiallythrough Jena and Auerstädt.

Still uncertain of the main Prussian locations,the Grande Armée continued directly northtowards Gera on the 11th. On the same day itbecame clear to Napoleon that the Prussian Armylay to the west of the Saale, rather than the east,and he ordered a dramatic change in the line ofmarch for the 12th and 13th. In what is bestdescribed as a huge left wheel, Lannes andAugereau (as the new advance guard) made forthe Saale crossing points in the vicinity of Jena,

Devout moved on Naumberg to support them,and Bernadotte advanced towards Kosen viaZeitz, also in a supporting role. Soult remained inthe vicinity of Gera to protect against any enemyactivity to the north or east. On the morning ofthe 13th, Lannes occupied Jena and dispatchedhis lead division across the Saale, quickly drivingback the Prussian advance elements andestablishing a foothold on the Landgrafenbergplateau. Convinced that the main Prussian forcewas positioned to fight on the Landgrafenberg tothe west, Napoleon joined Lannes at his advanceheadquarters on the afternoon of the 13th andordered all of his marshals, except Davout andBernadotte, to converge upon Jena. Within thenext 24 hours, Lannes’ V Corps, Augereau’s VIICorps, Soult’s IV Corps, Ney’s VI Corps, andsupporting formations, totalling well over

The Prussian Campaign, 10-12 OctoberIllustrating the bataillon carre

Map courtesy of US Military Academy


100,000 troops, assembled at the decisive point ofthe battlefield.39

The progress of the campaign to this pointhighlights the advantages gained by theorganisational improvements undergone by theFrench Army during the preceding 30 years.Napoleon’s use of the bataillon carre during theadvance into Saxony, his redeployment of theGrande Armée on a new line of march afterdiscovering the location of the enemy, and theconcentration of the main body of his forces atJena, provide excellent examples of speed,concentration of force and flexibility at theoperational level. None of this would have beenpossible without the formation of corps d’ armée,with their inherently flexible command andcontrol arrangements, or most importantly theélan of the French rank and file.Jena

Having massed the Grande Armée at Jena,Napoleon now had to deliver the decisive blow

against what he believed was the main body ofthe Prussian Army, west of the Saale. Although asuitable bridgehead had been secured at Jena, thePrussians’ disposition on the Landgrafenberg,ground favourable for the defence, made theassembly of sufficient troops to deliver such ablow exceedingly difficult. This difficulty wasovercome primarily by the successfulemployment of artillery.

Whilst the remaining corps d’ armée closedon Jena, as described above, Napoleon made thecalculated risk of retaining the Landgrafenbergfoothold with only Lannes’ V Corps at hisdisposal and the Saale at his back. In order toprevent a successful Prussian counterattack, itbecame essential for the French to secure theWindknollen, the highest peak of theLandgrafenberg. Between dusk on the 13th andthe following dawn, 42 artillery pieces weremanoeuvred up the steep, narrow track to thedominating Windknollen summit, along with

The Battle of Jena-Auerstadt, midnight 13 0ctober 1806Map courtesy of US Military Academy


25,000 men.40 This not only provided securityagainst a Prussian overnight attack, butestablished an excellent firm base for the generalattack planned for the 14th.

A full account of the battle of Jena cannot bereproduced here, however there are severalnotable examples of the employment of artillery.During the first phase of the attack in the earlymorning, Lannes’ divisions were supported by 28cannons, which supported the advancing infantryby engaging the enemy at extremely close range,and repulsed early Prussian counterattacks withheavy, accurate fire. After engagements on theflanks by Augereau and Ney later in the morning,and once Murat’s cavalry arrived in the earlyafternoon, Napoleon ordered the advance by thecentre. As the pressure of Lannes’ attackinginfantry broke the Prussian line, he “brought uphis artillery at the gallop and opened a heavyharassing fire on the retiring columns”,41

relentlessly pursuing the Prussians in theirensuing westward retreat. The pursuit was brieflyhalted just short of the Sulbach River, by acovering force established by a newly arrivedPrussian column, however a small number ofFrench guns were rushed up on order and assistedtheir infantry comrades in breaking the cohesionof this force.42 The subsequent pursuit across theSulbach marked the conclusion of the battle ofJena, during which Napoleon was convincedthat the main body of the Prussian Army hadbeen defeated.

Earlier advances in artillery design andorganisation clearly proved advantageous to theFrench at Jena. Napoleon was able to exploit themobility, accuracy and weight of fire of hisartillery to overcome the strength of the enemyposition west of the Saale, and in combinationwith the other arms to break the Prussian rankand file and hasten their flight from the

The Battle of Jena-Auerstadt, 1000 hours, 14 October 1806Map courtesy of US Military Academy


battlefield. Importantly, it was the dramaticallyimproved mobility and tactics of the Frenchartillery, rather than the design of the actualartillery tubes, that enabled it to be so effectivelyintegrated into the combined arms team.

AuerstädtOn the evening of the 14th Napoleon

received a dispatch from Davout that indicatedhis assessment of the battle at Jena waserroneous.43 Rather than forming the main bodyof the Prussian Army, the force that had opposedNapoleon at Jena was merely the flank guard forthe general Prussian withdrawal ordered on the11th. Contrary to Napoleon’s earlier orders,Davout’s III Corps had opposed Brunswick’sarmy of 60,000 at Auerstädt without supportfrom Bernadotte. This hard-fought and costlyengagement, occurring on the same day as thebattle of Jena, provided the ultimate test for

French organisations and tactics at corps anddivisional level.

Davout commenced his westward advancefrom Naumberg to Apolda during the pre-dawnhours of the 14th. Brunswick’s troops, including16 batteries totaling 230 guns, had campedovernight at Auerstädt. Elements of Davout’sforward division, commanded by Gudin,contacted the leading Prussian troops at thevillage of Hassenhaussen at 7.00am. Gudinformed his infantry into squares and fired on thePrussians at 1,000 yards, neutralising both gunsand cavalry, then pressed forward until halted byPrussian numerical superiority. At this point hefaced a total of nine battalions, 24 guns and 16cavalry squadrons (12 of which threatened hisright flank) however the French infantry squareseasily repulsed the ensuing Prussian cavalryattacks.

A general Prussian attack was delayed until9.45am to allow a greater build-up of forces.

The Battle of Jena-Auerstadt, 1400 hours, 14 October 1806Map courtesy of US Military Academy


Davout anticipated this would be directedtowards his right flank, to open the intendedPrussian withdrawal route. Gudin was re-deployed to the north of Hassenhaussen with onlya single regiment to the south, Friant’s divisionreinforced him on the right flank, and the corpsartillery was massed in a single battery, also tothe north of Hassenhaussen. The Prussian attackwas held at bay along the entire front, with theexception of Gudin’s left flank regiment whichwas briefly routed, but the arrival of Morand’sdivision at 11.00am prevented a defeat on thisflank.44

The culminating point of the battle wasMorand’s defence of the left flank andsubsequent advance through the Prussians’ right,epitomising the operational flexibility of theFrench division. On arrival in column, coveredby a cavalry and light infantry screen, Moranddeployed his division into line of battalioncolumns, with his guns and light infantry to theflanks, and drove off successive Prussian infantryattacks. The division then deployed into line forvolley fire, engaging the Prussians on the Hill ofHassenhaussen. Having advanced as far asHassenhaussen under heavy fire, seven ofMorand’s battalions on his left flank formedsquares, whilst the remaining battalions on hisright used the cover of walls and hedges,defeating a massed attack by 15,000 Prussiancavalry. Finally, the division re-formed into lineof battalion columns, resumed the advance, drovethe Prussian infantry over the River Lissbach andset about pursuing the broken enemyformations.45

Whereas Napoleon’s manoeuvre early in thecampaign illustrated the advantages of mutualsupport, concentration of force and flexibilityoffered by the corps d’ armée system, the battleof Auerstädt exemplified the corps d’ armée’sability to operate independently, relying upon itsown organic assets to overcome an enemy’snumerical superiority. Although severelyoutnumbered, III Corps’ organisation and tacticsproved markedly superior to those of thePrussians. The inherent strengths of the corps d’armée enabled Davout to turn potential disasterinto an opportunity to seize the initiative andundertake successful offensive action.

Analysing the Grande Armée’s SuccessMuch of Napoleon’s success throughout his

career has been attributed to his tactical geniusand remarkable foresight. A general featurethroughout most of his campaigns and battles wasthe conformity of the outcome to his pre-ordainedconcept of manoeuvre. At Austerlitz the yearbefore, his operational concept proceeded almostlike clockwork, culminating in the celebratedenvelopment of the Allies’ left flank. HoweverJena-Auerstädt stands in stark contrast to thispattern. The uncertainty that plagued Napoleonright up until hearing of Davout’s culminatingattack at Auerstädt gave the decisive phase of thePrussian campaign a relatively haphazardcharacter. The victory of the Grande Arméecannot therefore be attributed primarily to thegenius of its commander, but rather hisexploitation of the RMA and military revolution.

In assessing the outcomes of any battle,however, the question is often asked whether oneside “won” or the other “lost”. To this endChandler is scathing in his criticism of thePrussians:

Seldom in history has an army been reducedto impotence more swiftly or decisively. Thegreat traditions of Frederick the Great andhis justly famed techniques proved fatal to hissuccessors. Complacency led to the rejectionof all schemes of modernisation, andoverconfidence resulted in a complete mis-appreciation of what was needed to faceNapoleon.46

The impetus for revolutionary changes inwarfare during the 18th century was oftenprovided by an unexpected failure on the part ofone of the great powers.47 Ironically, the eventmost prominent in triggering the dramaticreforms of the French military discussed earlier inthis article was their defeat in 1757 at Rossbach,by the Prussian Army under Frederick theGreat.48 At Jena-Auerstädt the Prussians paid ahigh price for decades of complacency whichfollowed Rossbach, whereas Napoleon’s GrandeArmée capitalised on the reforms of the ensuingRMA.

Similarly, the French had readily adapted tothe new realities of the post-Revolution socio-political order. One of the greatest strengths of


the Grande Armée was that it epitomised the newideals of the French republic, while the PrussianArmy remained reliant upon loyalty to themonarch. As both the Emperor of France and thecommander of its army, Napoleon enjoyedunprecedented freedom of action whilst theactions of his Prussian opponents were stilted bypetty bureaucracy of the highest order. The speedproduced by the Grande Armée’s élan andinitiative gave it a decisive edge over the relativesluggishness brought about by the Prussiantroops’ discipline by fear. French innovationprevailed over Prussian methodicism. While thecommander of the Grande Armée seized theopportunities presented by the military revolutionand RMA, the Prussians clearly did not.

So What? - Informing the ContemporaryRMA Discourse

In the introduction I argued that RMAs resultfrom both technological and socio-politicalinfluences, and that successful militaryinstitutions have historically embraced both newtechnologies and new ideas. The Grande Arméeepitomised the duality of this approach. To defeatour future adversaries we must do the same, byadopting ideas that encompass both thetechnological and socio-political dimensions ofwarfare. There is no doubt that we havewholeheartedly embraced all that the RMAvision has to offer from a technologicalperspective, even if this vision is yet to be fullyrealised. However this represents only one half ofthe Grande Armée’s formula for success.Technology will offer few solutions in futurewarfare if considered in isolation from its socio-political context.

Recent world events indicate that our likelyadversaries have the ability to render IndustrialAge, technology-centric warfare irrelevant. Yet,like the Prussian Army of 1806, complacent afterits victory over the French Army 50 years earlierat Rossbach, we continue to delude ourselveswith our own ascendancy. The contemporaryRMA has much to offer, however we must bewary of its technological silver bullets beingrendered irrelevant by superior ideas.Tomorrow’s Napoleons will not sit gloriouslyastride white stallions, surveying their armies’endeavours on the battlefield below. Rather, they

will be a faceless foe, difficult to identify,speaking a language and fighting a style ofwarfare we are yet to fully understand, watchingthe results of their handiwork live on CNN.

The information revolution has introduced asimilar disparity of constraint and legitimacy tothat which existed between the French andPrussians at Jena-Auerstädt. Free of nation-statepolitical constraints and representing thedisenfranchised masses of the globalised world,many of our likely adversaries not only refuse toacknowledge the legitimacy of the nation-state,but strive to undermine it. Western liberaldemocracies, on the other hand, wrap themselvesin the well-worn blanket of nation-statelegitimacy, acting unilaterally or multi-laterallyagainst non-state adversaries using IndustrialAge-warfare, in so doing often reinforcing theiradversaries’ legitimacy in the eyes of those whowould be inclined to support them.

The signs are there for the reading, but weseem to have ignored them, perhaps hoping thatour adversaries will pursue our chosen style ofwarfare on our terms. To this end, we have beenconditioned to behave like our political masters.We fear and reject the unknown rather than striveto understand it. We embrace innovations thatadvance various self-interests but reject thoselikely to prove relevant and decisive. Weendeavour to “solve problems” by swiftlyeliminating dissenters instead of addressing thecauses. In short, we favour platitude oversubstance. Unfortunately, platitudes devised fordomestic consumption stand for naught againstMaude’s “actual hard facts of war”.

Our challenge, therefore, is to adapt not onlyto the methods and means of war presented bytoday’s RMA, but also the changes in the natureand purposes of war inherent in the InformationAge military revolution. The parallels that existbetween the turn of the 18th and 19th centuries,and the 20th and 21st centuries, lead to theirrefutable conclusion that such a revolution istaking place. Whereas the French Revolutionmarked the rise of the republican nation-state, theinformation revolution has marked the rise of thenon-state actor. The French military revolutionrealised the transition from dynastic warfare tonational warfare, from allegiance to the monarch


to national identity, from royal armies to nationalarmies, and from class stratification toprofessional egalitarianism. The contemporarymilitary revolution is characterised by a similartransition, from national warfare to supra-national warfare,49 from national identity tocosmopolitan identity,50 from opposing nationalarmies to opposing non-state actors, and fromprofessional egalitarianism to techno-bureaucracy. Our response to these socio-political realities is what should be currentlyoccupying our minds, rather than a pseudo-intellectual dialogue concerning the relativemerits of various equipment platforms, and arehash of outdated, Industrial Age warfightingconcepts, underpinned by the mythology of“precision warfare”.

Clearly, the imperative for the ADF is toaddress these profound socio-political changes.First and foremost of these are the changes to thesociety from which the ADF is drawn, within thebroader international context. The strength of theADF has always been its people, coupled withthe fact that they strongly represent Australiansocietal values. This is reflected in the SeniorLeadership’s contemporary vision statement - “Aforce for good, a force to be reckoned with, aforce to win.” Yet the idea of what constitutes a“force for good” now reflects cosmopolitan idealsrather than merely nationalistic ones.51 AustralianService personnel are increasingly motivated byideas of international justice rather than loyalty tonation or empire. They are highly educated. Theyare drawn from diverse cultures. There is anincreasing proportion of women among theirranks. They demand career satisfaction andprofessional development in a competitiveemployment market. They are volunteers whoreadily question the motives of the nation’spartisan political leadership. As Nick Jans argues,we ignore these realities at our peril:

The ADF’s “competitive advantage” is not inits hardware, but in the skills and spirit ofthose who man it. So far, the ADF has beenwell served in this regard. But the personnelcomponent of capability is a fragile quality, atrisk in an age of economic rationalism andchanges to career paradigms andemployment opportunities in the community

at large. There is much evidence that thepersonnel component of ADF capability isteetering on the balance between eithercontinuing to be a strength and sliding into aclose-to unrecoverable crisis: between ridingon a post-East Timor surge and decliningbecause many members are close to beingfed-up with the continued poor strategicmanagement of ADF human resources.52

Even more significant are the dramaticpolitical changes with which we are presentlyconfronted. The promise of the “new worldorder” and Pax Americana following the end ofthe Cold War did not eventuate. Instead, thesimmering tensions that were allayed by thebipolar order re-emerged, drawing the Westernpowers into a series of interventions intended toresolve innumerable conflicts rooted in ethnictension and post-colonialism. Importantly, inevery one of these interventions the sources oflegitimacy were not only internal but alsoexternal to the nation-state. Many of the countriesthat formed only the battlefields of the last worldwar, on the periphery of former empires, becamepowers in their own right, some of them nowarmed with nuclear weapons. Non-state actors,both malevolent and benign, rose in power andinfluence. September 11 confirmed this, and thereaction of the world’s sole remainingsuperpower, through the “war on terrorism”promises even further upheaval.

At time of writing the only truly internationalinstitution that held any promise of fosteringworld security, however flawed, shows signs offracture and decline. Francis Fukuyama’s “end ofhistory”53 and Samuel Huntington’s “clash ofcivilisations”54 may provide some clues to thefuture, but the only certainties are uncertainty,complexity and friction. These “certainties’’imply that the ADF must be prepared not only for“conventional” conflict, whatever that is, but alsocounter-terrorism and ongoing operations “otherthan conventional war” to meet Australia’ssecurity needs. At the domestic level, the realityof partisan politics, an inherent flaw ofdemocratic governance, forms a large part of thefriction that impedes force preparedness. Whilewe may not be able to control or even influencethese changes to any great extent, we must,


however, adapt to them, and as Murray and Knoxemphasise, in some cases anticipate them.

ConclusionHistory shows that RMAs are nothing new.

Neither are military revolutions. The challengeconfronting the leadership of the ADF, therefore,is to learn the hard-won lessons of the past andcapitalise upon the RMA through recognising itsco-existence with the broader military revolutionat hand. Once again, Murray and Knoxemphasise the breadth of this challenge:

As the great military revolutions of the pasthave suggested, changes in society andpolitics – not in technology alone – are themost revolutionary forces of all. It is thosesocial and cultural forces, perhaps unleashedor amplified in earlier periods by newtechnologies, that will determine the nature ofany coming military revolution and willdecisively affect how military organisationsprepare for and conduct war.55

Lest we follow the example of the Prussiansin 1806 rather than the French, the ADF mustfirst recognise these revolutionary forces, thenconsciously strive to harness them. In recognitionof the fact that humanity, not machinery, is theessence of conflict and war, the principaloutcome from this process should be theformulation of genuinely new ideas, rather thanmerely the adoption of Information Agetechnology. Indeed, those who currentlychampion the RMA and the “concept-led,capability-based” vision might more gainfullypursue a revolution in military ideas, founded onthe socio-political realities of the InformationAge, to effectively transform the ADF from anIndustrial Age anachronism into an InformationAge archetype.

NOTES

1. The Jena Campaign 1806, Swan Sonneschein &Co., London, 1909, p. 10.

2. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, 2001.3. “Thinking About Revolutions in Warfare”, in

ibid., p. 6.4. ibid., pp. 6-7.5. ibid., p. 12.6. Christopher Duffy, The Army of Frederick the

Great,Wren, Melbourne, 1974, p. 175.7. William H. McNeill, The Pursuit of Power:

Technology, Armed Force and Society Since A.D.1000, University of Chicago Press, Chicago,1984, pp. 144-6.

8. McNeill, op. cit., pp. 166-74.9. David Chandler, The Campaigns of Napoleon,

Weidenfeld & Nicolson, London, 1966, p. 138.10 . McNeill, op. cit., pp. 158-65.11. John R. Elting, Swords Around A Throne:

Napoleon’s Grande Armée, Weidenfeld &Nicolson, London, 1989, p. 81.

12 ibid., p. 23; and Chandler, op. cit., pp. 158-9.13. Larry H. Addington, The Patterns of War Since

the Eighteenth Century, 2nd Edn., IndianaUniversity Press, Bloomington, 1994, pp. 21-22.

14. McNeill, op. cit., pp. 162-3.15. Addington, op. cit., pp. 20-21.16. See Kevin Kiley, “The Evolution of French

Doctrine in the Revolutionary and Napoleonic Wars1792-1815”, NapoleonSeries.org, August 2000(http://www.napoleonseries.org/articles/military/doctrine.cfm).

17. op. cit., pp. 7-8.18. Addington, op. cit., pp. 22-24.19. “Napoleon and the Grande Armée: Military

Innovations Leading to a Revolution in 19thCentury Military Affairs”, NapoleonSeries.org,July 2000.

20. op. cit., p. 50.21. Jay Luvaas (ed.), Napoleon on the Art of War,

Touchstone, New York, 1999, p. 8.22. Gibson, op. cit.23. Quoted in Peter G. Tsouras, Warriors’ Words: A

Dictionary of Military Quotations, Cassell,London, 1994, p. 245.

24. A.G. MacDonell, Napoleon and His Marshals,Prion, London, 1966, p. 17.

25. Chandler, op. cit., p. 13.26. Elting, op. cit., p. 58.27. Chandler, op. cit., pp. 151-78.28. ibid., pp. 363-5.29. op. cit., p. 103. My emphasis.30. Chandler, op. cit., p. 454.31. ibid., p. 454-55.32. ibid., p. 504.33. MacDonell, op. cit., p. 116.34. Chandler, op. cit., pp. 454-55.35. op. cit., p. 502.36. ibid., p. 443.37. op. cit., p. xv.38. Chandler, op. cit., pp. 467-8.39. ibid., pp. 475-8.40. ibid., pp. 476-7.41. ibid., p. 486.42. ibid., pp. 480-88.43. ibid., p. 488.44. ibid., pp. 489-95.


45. ibid., p. 353.46. op. cit., p. 502.47. McNeill, op. cit., p. 161.48. Elting, op. cit., p. 6.49. This includes inter-national (between nation

states), as well as intra-national (civil wars andother internal conflict) and extra-national(between nation-states and non-state actors)warfare.

50. Graeme Cheeseman, “Defending the ‘Other’: Military Force(s) and the Cosmopolitan Project”,paper presented to the Chief of Army’s LandWarfare Conference 2001, Future Armies, FutureChallenges: Land Warfare in the InformationAge, Australian Defence Force Academy,Canberra, 9-11 October 2001.

51. ibid.52. “Personnel and the ‘Revolution in Military

Affairs’”, Letter to the Editor, Australian DefenceForce Journal, No. 146, January/February 2001,p. 3.

53. The End of History and the Last Man, HamishHamilton, London, 1992.

54. The Clash of Civilizations and the Remaking ofWorld Order, Touchstone Books, London, 1998.

55. “The Future Behind Us”, in op. cit., pp. 177-8.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Addington, Larry H., The Patterns of War Since theEighteenth Century, 2nd Edn., Indiana UniversityPress, Bloomington, 1994.

Blond, Georges, La Grande Armée, (1979), Arms andArmour Press, London, 1995.

Chandler, David, The Campaigns of Napoleon,Weidenfeld & Nicolson, London, 1966.

Chandler, David, Jena 1806: Napoleon DestroysPrussia, Osprey Military, Oxford, 1993.

Cheeseman, Graeme, “Defending the ‘Other’: MilitaryForce(s) and the Cosmopolitan Project”, paperpresented to the Chief of Army’s Land WarfareConference 2001, Future Armies, FutureChallenges: Land Warfare in the InformationAge, Australian Defence Force Academy,Canberra, 9-11 October 2001.

Clausewitz, Carl von, On War (1832), trans. AnatolRapoport, Penguin, London, 1982.

Duffy, Christopher, The Army of Frederick the Great,Wren, Melbourne, 1974.

Elting, John R., Swords Around A Throne: Napoleon’sGrande Armée, Weidenfeld & Nicolson, London,1989.

Fukuyama, Francis, The End of History and the LastMan, Hamish Hamilton, London, 1992.

Gibson, David J., “Napoleon and the Grande Armée:Military Innovations Leading to a Revolu-tion in 19th Century Military Affairs”,NapoleonSeries.org, July 2000(http://www.napoleonseries.org/articles/military/innovations.cfm).

Huntington, Samuel P., The Clash of Civilizations andthe Remaking of World Order, TouchstoneBooks, London, 1998.

Jomini, Baron Antoine Henri de, The Art of War,(1838), Greenhill, London, 1996.

Keegan, John, A History of Warfare, Pimlico, London,1994.

Kiley, Kevin, “The Evolution of French Doctrine inthe Revolutionary and Napoleonic Wars 1792-1815”, NapoleonSeries.org, August 2000(http://www.napoleonseries.org/articles/military/doctrine.cfm).

Knox, MacGregor, and Murray, Williamson, (eds.)The Dynamics of Military Revolution 1300-2050,Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, 2001.

Luvaas, Jay (ed.), Napoleon on the Art of War,Touchstone, New York, 1999.

MacDonell, A.G., Napoleon and His Marshals, Prion,London, 1966.

McNeill, William H., The Pursuit of Power:Technology, Armed Force and Society Since A.D.1000, University of Chicago Press, Chicago,1984.

Maude, F.N., The Jena Campaign 1806, SwanSonneschein & Co., London, 1909.

Tsouras, Peter G., Warriors’ Words: A Dictionary ofMilitary Quotations, Cassell, London, 1994.

Van Creveld, Martin, The Rise and Decline of theState, Cambridge University Press, 1999.

Major McCarthy graduated from the Royal Military College, Duntroon in 1990 and has since held a variety of regimentaland training appointments in the Royal Australian Engineers, as well as a non-corps posting to Headquarters LogisticSupport Force. His operational service includes duty as a Patrol Commander in the Peace Monitoring Group (PMG),Bougainville in 1999 and a staff officer in the United Nations Mission in Ethiopia and Eritrea (UNMEE) ForceHeadquarters in 2001. He is currently the Staff Officer Grade Two - Engineer Doctrine and Development, Land WarfareDevelopment Centre (LWDC), and is studying the Master of Arts (International Relations) through Deakin University.Comments on this article should be addressed to [email protected].

BEYOND ENDURANCE: AN EPIC OFWHITEHALL AND THE SOUTHATLANTIC CONFLICT by Nick Barker,Leo Cooper, London, 1997, 254 pages,illustrated, hard cover $80, paperback $51.95from Peribo, 58 Beaumont Rd, Mt Kuring-Gai, NSW 2080, tel (02) 9457 0011, fax (02)9457 0022, E-mail [email protected]

Reviewed by A. Argent.

This is the story of HMSEndurance, the Royal Navy’sFalklands and South AtlanticGuard Ship, in the 1982Falklands War. The authorwas her captain during thosetense weeks. It was the BritishGovernment’s announcementto scrap Endurance when she

returned to the UK after the 1981/82 Antarcticsummer season that finally convinced theArgentine junta that Britain had no stomach todefend her interests below 60 South. Indeed,when Argentine occupied Southern Thule in theSouth Sandwich Islands 1,200 nautical milessouth-east of the Falklands in 1977, Britain’sresponse was only a feeble protest against thisseizure of her territory. In 1976 an Argentinedestroyer had fired on a British Antarctic Surveyresearch vessel 78 miles south of Port Stanley butthe British Government’s reaction was little morethan muted.

Barker gives a detailed account of the politicscovering more than 20 years of the recentquarrels between Britain and the Argentine overthe windswept, bare islands that are home toabout 2,000 sixth generation Britons. It makessad reading – ignorant politicians, arrogant civilservants, ambassadors completely out of touchwith what was happening around them, a ForeignOffice set to appease (“a hotbed of cold feet” wasan apt description) and scant regard for the

wishes of the Islanders. He also describes his ownefforts to retain a naval presence in the Falklands.

Barker assumed command of Endurance inMay 1980 and took her down to the ice thatAntarctic summer. Like the ships once charteredby the Australian Antarctic Division she was builtin Denmark in 1956 and began life as Anita Dan.She came on the books of the RN in 1968 andwas named after Shackleton’s famous but ill-fated vessel but was familiarly called “the RedPlum” because of her hull colour. Besides flyingthe flag, much of her work in the Antarctic washydrographic survey and assisting the tworesearch vessels of the British Antarctic Survey.

During Captain Barker’s command shecarried two Wasp helicopters and prudently (butsecretly) the AS12 air-to-surface missile launchedfrom those helicopters. She was also fitted withmonitoring equipment. Like the AS12 missiles,this equipment played a vital role when theshooting started with the invasion of the FalklandIslands on 2 April 1982. Endurance was then inSouth Georgia waters, 775 nautical miles east ofthe Falklands, keeping an eye on Argentine ships,servicemen and civilians who had landed inSouth Georgia without permission. It was hereshe put paid to the Argentine submarine Santa Fewith AS12 missiles and assisted in the recaptureof the island.

South Georgia then became the assemblyarea for the task force sent out from the UK,6,550 nautical miles away, and Barker was ineffect the harbour master. It was a worrying timefor, in addition to the threat of enemy aircraft andsubmarines, the bay was open to the violentwinds and winter was rapidly approaching.Endurance’s next task was to get theArgentinians out of Southern Thule, 500 nm tothe south-east. The surrender was signed there on20 June 1982, almost the very day when midwinter is celebrated in Antarctica.

This book is a thoroughly good read which,amongst other things, shows what happens tosome people when history proves their warnings

Reviews

54

were unheeded. The weakness of Britishgovernments, of both persuasions, led to 255British dead, 777 wounded, the loss of four RNvessels and a merchant ship with a precious cargoof Chinook helicopters.

PostscriptEndurance was reprieved and went down to

the ice for a few more seasons. Sadly, in 1993 sheended her days in a breaker’s yard in India. Herreplacement was the Norwegian-built MV PolarCircle, commissioned HMS Polar Circle on 21November 1991 and subsequently renamed HMSEndurance. She displaces 6,500 tons and has acomplement of 126 including 14 Royal Marines.In addition, www.royal-navy.mod.uk tells usthere is now an Atlantic Patrol Task (South)which “…provides a tangible UK maritimepresence as a demonstration of its nationalinterest in the area…responsible for maintainingBritish sovereignty of the Falkland Islands,including South Georgia and the South SandwichIslands…”

WHEN THE SCORPION STINGS TheHistory of the 3rd Cavalry Regiment, Vietnam1965-1972 by Paul Anderson

Reviewed by Lieutenant Dominic Henley KatterRANR

“Scorpions eat insects and will only sting toprotect themselves. ... The venom of scorpions isused for both prey, capture and defence.1”

When the Scorpion Stingsis the official history of the3rd Cavalry Regiment inSouth Vietnam, 1965-72. Asthe title of the bookproclaims, the badge of the3rd Cavalry Regiment is ablack scorpion, encased by awreath, with the tail “swung

up” as if to strike. The scorpion is placed over aninverted boomerang which has the unit motto“resolute”. The badge is finished in gunmetalcolour to reflect that it was designed and chosenin a combat area, South Vietnam2.

The Regiment was the first unit involved inthe establishment of the Australian Task Force atNui Dat and the last to leave when the task force

was finally disbanded. Until now its uniqueachievements have been lost within the largeraccounts of the various infantry divisions towhich the regiment was attached.

The regiment’s “tireless workhorse” theM113A1 had seen service in Vietnam since theearly 1960s3. The versatility of the ArmouredPersonnel Carrier, allowed the regiment tofunction in dual operational roles: first as cavalry,and secondly as armoured transport support. Thismonograph argues against the misnomer that theregiment was merely an armoured transport unitor “battlefield taxi”.

In Vietnam the regiment served as the“workhorse” of the Australian Task Force. Theunit’s small size, yet diverse capabilities in actionare illustrated in this book. This accountdocuments the role of the 3rd Cavalry Regiment -one of the most decorated Australian units thatserved in Viet Nam - and the lives of the menwho served within it.

This story of the regiment, is effectively thestory of Australia’s involvement in the VietnamWar, as more than half of all Australian troops inthe region operated with the unit at some stageduring their service. This work is both a personaland political history. Due to the fact that theregiment served in Vietnam for over six yearsthis book does not attempt to record everyincident, movement and operation in which theregiment was involved. However, the bookdescribes in vivid detail how the establishment ofthe Task Force base at Nui Dat had infuriated thelocal enemy command, whose forces up to thatpoint had operated at will within the province. Itillustrates how the actions of the Australian TaskForce were a serious threat to the Viet Congefforts in taxing, extorting and recruiting from thelocal population.

The 3rd Cavalry Regiment has its historicalorigin with the Victorian Mounted Rifles (theVMR), raised in 1885. In May 1965, 1 Troop, ASquadron, 4th/19th Prince of Wales Light Horse(the direct lineal descendants of the VictorianMounted Rifles), embarked for service in SouthVietnam. In March 1966 the troop was re-designated as the 1st Armoured Personnel CarrierTroop. The troop was expanded and in May ofthe same year became 1st Armoured Personnel


REVIEWS 55

Carrier Squadron. In January 1967 the theSquadron was renamed A Squadron, 3rd CavalryRegiment. B Squadron was raised at Holsworthyin 1967 and both A and B Squadrons saw activeservice in South Vietnam. The ArmouredPersonnel Carriers of the 3rd Cavalry regimentin South Vietnam participated in every majorAustralian Task Force operation including thebattle of Long Tan in 1966, the Tet Offensive in1968, the battle of Binh Ba in 1969 and thebattles for Fire Support Bases Coral andBalmoral. In November 1971 the Squadronreturned to Townsville as B Squadron, 3rdCavalry Regiment, while the Squadron inHolsworthy was absorbed into the 2nd CavalryRegiment4.

The author Paul Anderson was a formermember of the 3rd Cavalry Regiment and serveda tour of duty with A Squadron 3rd CavalryRegiment in South Vietnam in 1971. In this bookhe was able to combine personal experience withdetailed research. After his service he returned tothe rural bank of NSW until his retirement in1996. He died soon after completing themanuscript for this book in 2001. This book is atestimony to the 20 members of the regiment whodid not return home alive and to the 110 whoreturned with serious injuries.

1 See the website:http://www.hitthetrail.com/scorpions.htm.

2 The badge was designed by Lieutenant GeneralJohn Grey AO (retd) and assisted by CharlesGaunt and Colonel Roger Kershaw (retd) both ofwhom were adjutants in succession duringLieutenant General Grey’s time in Vietnam. Itwas chosen as the symbol of the 3rd CavalryRegiment as it had already been adoptedinformally and painted on the side of all M113A1vehicles with the squadron.

3 The M113A1 has subsequently served inSomalia, Rwanda and now East Timor. The“APC” has seen over 40 years of service with theRAAC.

4 In 1981 B Squadron 3rd Cavalry Regiment wasamalgamated with the 4th Cavalry Regiment toform the 3/4 Cavalry Regiment. The 3/4 CavalryRegiment, now reduced to a single squadron,supported the Operational Deployment Force(ODF) and in December 1992 deployed with the1st Battalion, Royal Australian Regiment, toSomalia as a part of ‘Operation Solace’.

THE HUMAN VALUE OF THEENTERPRISE by Andrew Mayo, NicholasBrealey Publishing, London, A$55.

Reviewed by Group Captain Mark Lax.

How many times have weheard the phrase “People areour most important asset”, notonly used within Defence, butalso used by a wide range ofother organisations? Theproblem is, when we say it,does anyone in theorganisation believe it? This

book explains why it is true, why we need tomake it credible across the organisation and howto make a successful organisation through aculture of valuing people.

The study of HRM issues has become agrowth industry and there are now literallyhundreds of books on the market on this subject.This one is a British offering, which takes anAmerican style approach, no doubt targeted atthat more lucrative market. However, I believe itis worth a second look because it challenges us toput people first and tells us how. Thankfully, it isnot just a rehash of the latest Harvard BusinessSchool trend. Mayo offers the reader sevenpeople challenges “up front”. By his ownadmission, he builds upon Kaplan and Norton’sBalanced Scorecard ideas and proceeds toanswer the questions he poses. His key challengeis; how do we assess the value of people? That is,how do we measure human capital value? Thisbook is essentially about that value measurement.

Andrew Mayo regards himself as a professorof “human capital management” and is presentlyprogram director of the London Business Schooland Middlesex University Business School. Hiscredentials speak for themselves, so he has hadopportunity to develop his ideas over many years.For The Human Value of the Enterprise, he usesa building block approach to the 11 chapterspresented. He explains the extant Human Capitalmodels and concludes with a strategy forimplementation of a workable system.

Subtitled “Valuing People as Assets –Monitoring, Measuring, Managing”, the booksuggests that running companies on the basis of

56 AUSTRALIAN DEFENCE FORCE JOURNAL NO. 158 JANUARY/FEBRUARY 2003

financial measures alone is becoming obsolete.By putting a value on people and recognisingeach individual’s potential (Mayo calls this“mapping know-how”), we can recognise anorganisation’s true productivity and success rate.The book concludes with an appendix entitled:“The Development and Measurement ofIntellectual Capital”, but why it is not justcovered within the main text, I am unsure.

Presented in an easy, clear style and liberallyillustrated with graphics and flow diagrams, thebook consists of 281 pages plus reference sectionand concise index. For those within Defence’svarious personnel organisations struggling tomeasure the value of our people, and to attract andretain them, this book may answer many of yourquestions. Recommended for those in HRM.

THE BIG E: THE STORY OF THE USSENTERPRISE by Edward P. Stafford with anintroduction by Paul Stilwell published byBluejacket Books, United States NavalInstitute Press 2002 reprinting of original 1962edition, paperback, 585 pp, index,photographs and maps

Reviewed by Commodore James Goldrick

The United States NavalInstitute has for some timerepublished important works ofnaval history and fiction in its“Classics of Naval Literature”series. Bluejacket Books is amore recent effort to reduce theprice of these books by issuingthem as paperbacks.

The Big E is very much in the tradition of itspredecessors. It is a lively and engaging narrativeof the operational service of the most famousUSN aircraft carrier of the Second World War.Written by a naval aviator with operationalseagoing experience, its focus is very much upon

the remarkable achievements of the Enterprise’sair groups between 1941 and 1942. In terms of2003, however, The Big E cannot be consideredas an authoritative history of the Pacific conflict,or even a small part of it. Although based uponextensive archival research within the US Navy’srecords, it inevitably reflects the Americanperspective and some of the exaggerated claimswhich are inevitable in the heat of war. It isclearly written to celebrate the achievements ofthose involved, not dissect them. Nevertheless, itis a fine read and a gripping narrative whichsucceeds admirably in capturing the “feel” of theship and her crew which, as Paul Stilwell impliesin his introduction, was the real point ofproducing the book originally. That “feel”inevitably reflects the best of the Enterprise andher people and it lacks something of the shadowthat a truly dispassionate history would include,but, to its credit, it succeeds in conveying a senseof the strain and the agony of war at sea and theireffect on individuals.

Perhaps the most important lesson which thebook conveys is to make the reader appreciatejust how long the Pacific campaign was, and howdifficult. Enterprise was in the thick of it from thetime of Pearl Harbor (she was at sea returningfrom transporting aircraft to Wake Island) to thekamikaze attack in May 1945 which forced herhome for major repairs. For the units which wereso involved, danger was ever present, whetherfrom over or under the sea. Even when theUnited States had achieved the overwhelmingsuperiority which made the conclusion of the warinevitable, the Japanese suicide missions took aheavy price of ships and men.

Purchase and read this book by all means.Think of it as you would a novel by HermanWouk – it conveys an artistic reality and someextraordinary insights into a period of history asimportant for Australians as it is for Americans.Then move on to more recent and dispassionatesurveys of the Pacific War.

defence force journal · papua 21 july 1942 - 23 january 1943 lieutenant colonel chris field 37....

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