World War: Wavell on the Bull

This week the U. S. will have an opportunity to read what the man who, most military critics agree, is the best British general in World War II thinks of the man who, many military critics believe, was the ablest British general of World War I: a U. S. edition of General Sir Archibald Wavell's book,— finished in June 1940 on Field Marshal Viscount Allenby, hero of Palestine. The result just now is more interesting for the light it casts on Sir Archibald than the light it casts on Allenby.

Allenby's claim to greatness rests on one basic fact. While other British generals wasted nearly 650,000 lives in nearly four years of vain efforts to break the deadlock on the Western Front, he won his Middle Eastern battles, brought his campaign to a decisive conclusion and, as so often happens when an able general is in command † destroyed his enemy's Army with only light loss to his own troops. There is no greater proof of military ability.

General Wavell took his course of sprouts in desert warfare under General Allenby in Palestine, and frankly acknowledges his debt to the older man. But it is extraordinary to what extent Sir Archibald, as he suddenly appeared to the world in the Libyan campaign, fell into the Allenby mold. Most of the reasons which General Wavell gives for General Allenby's excellence as a general apply equally to Sir Archibald himself. Allenby's irascibility (his men called him "The Bull", which Sir Archibald did not inherit, is the one exception.

Excerpts:

"In all professions, and especially in the military, character is of greater importance than brains or experience. Allenby ... had absolute courage, physical and moral—a courage so complete that he seemed almost unaware that such a quality existed; he acted quickly and coolly in danger, not because danger excited him to action, but because there was work to be done at once. . . .

"A less obvious quality, but one that was the real foundation of his successes, was the care for administration. . . . His method of command was a more personal one than that of most commanders of great armies—modern armies, that is. Once he knew and trusted his staff he spent as little time as possible in the office and as much time as possible with his army—by no means always with the forward troops, but also in visiting bases, hospitals, workshops, training camps, and all establishments by which the army lived, moved and had its being.

"His physique and appearance stood him in good stead. He could endure continual long journeys over dusty, bumpy tracks, often in great heat, without the least apparent fatigue. ... No soldier who had seen Allenby—and practically all his soldiers did see Allenby—could have any doubt that he was being commanded. . . .

"His ideas on discipline were simple: an order was an order. . . . His strict enforcement of certain orders, such as the keeping of chin-straps down and the wearing of steel helmets, and of certain prohibitions—for example, against riding in cut-shorts or tying horses to trees—has . . . left in the minds of some an impression of a senseless martinet who delighted in petty details of dress and discipline.

This is not the truth: the orders he insisted on had all a reason of good common sense. . . .

"He had no use for displays of bravery when bravery had no utility. . . .