Manoeuvre, CM and Deep Thoughts

[Jeff Heidman]

Originally posted by Michael emrys:

E.g., Germany. All of Germany's decisive victories were against second- or third-rate militaries (Poland, Norway, Denmark, the Netherlands, Belgium, Yugoslavia, and Greece) or against nations that were so divided politically as to be able to put up an effective defense (France and Yugoslavia again). Every time they came up against anyone even approximately their equal, they lost. In a real sense, they were typical bullies.

Michael

It would seem like you are defining 2nd or 3rd rate as anyone who lost to the Germans.

France had what was considered to be one of the most modern and powerful armies in the world. Poland considered themselves to be able to hold off Germany long ennough to expect French and British aid.

Granted, in both cases they found that they were mistaken, but is it not a bit of hindsight to look back and dismiss any victories as nothing more than the ineptness of their opponents? Of course they did things wrong, that is why they lost.

The only reaosn that the UK did not fall shortly after France was the Channel. Does that mean that they were 2nd rate?

If Germany had taken Moscow and forced a peace with the USSR, it seems you would right now be chalking them up as another "2nd rate" military that the bully beat up on. But since they won, they are an example of a 1st rate military?

I am not trying to defend the actions of the Nazi's, but I think your putting the cart before the horse by defining "2nd rate" as being equivalent to "lost to Germany".

Jeff Heidman

[Spook]

The problem with this lovely notion is that it is not true. It fits and reveals the pre-conceived idea that all frontal attacks are stupid and fail because they deserve to. But Napoleon, not exactly the dumbest general in all history, looked over that field and decided on a frontal attack. And the Duke of Wellington, an acknowledged master of defensive warfare in the era, himself called in the "nearest run thing you ever saw in your life", which hardly sounds like a fruitless and idiotic attacker loss, easily repulsed.

But too much of the French assault WAS idiotic. Sure, a "grand battery" barrage was attempted in a sensible way to "soften up" the defenders, but only one Allied brigade (not deployed on reverse slope) really suffered from it. D'Erlon's I Corps assault was relatively packed and unable to deploy in "standard" spacing, and after its bloody repulse, could not attack again as a coordinated body. The intended French "diversion" at Hogoumont(sic?) ended up sucking in far more French troops to attempt clearing it than was planned. Similarly, much French effort was tangled up in forcing La Haye Sainte. And the massed French cavalry assaults right up the middle? Poorly timed & wasteful. Even Napoleon admitted as much (though it wasn't he who ordered the cavalry "wave assault").

Which brings another point. Who exactly was in charge at Waterloo? It can be argued strongly that Napoleon had delegated much too much command responsibility onto Ney as the "army field commander", which ultimately undermined central French command.

Certainly, Wellington's troops had a hard time of it. The French light artillery & skirmishers that were able to work forward took their toll. But in all objectivity when taking Waterloo in sum balance, Napoleon failed distinctly in being able to "leverage" his relative strengths, nor was he able to really deny Wellington his own strengths in turn.

In the "near run", I think the worst possible to Wellington would've been for him to retire from the field. But very unlikely would have the Anglo-Allied army routed off the field as a panic-stricken mob. And yet that was exactly what happened to the French, due to the added Prussian flank attacks. For that matter, the whole premise of Wellington choosing the battlefield, and to stay there, was that he expected Prussian support.

Allowing another quote to be borrowed:

I can explain more at length to anyone who cares to know, but the point remains. The fellow sees examples of stupid frontal attack everywhere because he is predisposed to regard every frontal attack as stupid, so he sees them when they are not really there. That does not mean there aren't any, obviously.

I had no such predisposition whatsoever. I was only citing examples of attritional failures. Recall further up in my posts that I related the US VII Corps campaign in the Gulf War to be an "attritional success."

Frontal attacks are STUPID if you attack without the effort or predisposition to utilize your strengths, and at the same time fail to negate the defender's strengths.

That's how Waterloo worked out. It wasn't Austerlitz or Jena or Auerstadt or Friedland by a long shot, in terms of executing "smart" frontal attacks. Or take Wagram. It was a vicious battle with horrid losses for both sides, but compared to Waterloo, Napoleon did a much better job of using his own strengths to ultimately carry the day.

[Forever Babra]

Hmm... I see the topic keep shifting from tactical to operational to strategic.

Operationally (and strategically), the entire Belgian campaign of 1815 is a classic case study of Maneuver warfare at work. Bounce the enemy in a surprise march, defeat one, change fronts, defeat the other, split them, force them back on their (different) bases of supply. Defeat them in detail. Take the capital. Watch the wavering satellite nations flock to join the camp.

That it did not succeed for the French does not make it less valid; it simply illustrates that the enemy were adept at modifying their own operations to meet the exigencies of the moment.

Wellington and his British regs had a solid reputation by that point in the wars, but the bulk of the Anglo-Allied army were non-British conscripts of questionable quality, and even more questionable loyalty. It wasn't the idea of a frontal attack that was flawed, it was the execution (and a bit of intervention in the form of luck good or bad).

[Spook]

It wasn't the idea of a frontal attack that was flawed, it was the execution (and a bit of intervention in the form of luck good or bad).

Which was effectively my point. As I noted in my earlier example of Wagram, frontal attacks can succeed, but only with proper coordination and proper use of your strengths.

But in Waterloo's case, if the Anglo-Allied army was instead a fully British army with the same numbers, Napoleon's defeat would likely had been even worse.

[jasoncawley@ameritech.net]

The grand battery was placed opposite the lowest point of the ridge, left to right, and in front of Picton's position. Its fire routed one brigade rapidly, and that sector continued to lose men. In order to avoid losing men repeatedly, the line had to be moved back about a quarter of a mile. The area along the front between the main part of Wellington's position, and Picton's part, was thus disunited somewhat - at the front. Step one.

The ground in front of Picton's position is steep, and there is tons of dead ground there. On the reverse slope means unable to dispute the passage of the French infantry to the forward slope. Then both infantries are in reverse slope to each other; there is nothing to choose between them, and certainly no advantage to Picton or the British. That is step two.

The next stage is to move the infantry onto the crest itself, and to dispute only the immediate area with the Brits. Understand, the Brits cannot advance to the crest, or the grand battery just starts up again. So the crest is empty. The French infantry only needs to push the Brits back a short distance, and then they can stop pressing and defend from the crest. That is step three.

It was fully expected the Brits might try to use cavalry to get the French off the ridge again. That is why 3 cavalry divisions supported the attack, ready to countercharge. It is also part of why the French moved in formations that could form square rapidly, to repel cavalry. In most cases in Napoleonic warfare, the counter-charger has distinct advantages over the initial charger, in cavalry vs. cavalry fights, and that was the planned use of the supporting cavalry.

Once that was accomplished and the crest line made even remotely secure, the grand battery was not going to sit still, but move right up onto it. There is no additional ridge line and little if any dead ground from that crest as far as Mount St. Jean. Nothing would be able to stand on the back slope anymore. And remember, the rest of the defenders over to the left, cannot easily come across to support, if the left part of the grand battery hasn't displace yet.

Then the ridge is turned and rolled up right to left. With the reserve - the Guard and plenty of cavalry - available to hit it from the hidden side of the hill, too. (Same location they were eventually used).

That was a very dangerous plan for the British, and it could very easily have worked. Why didn't it? First, Picton's troops put up an excellent fight, but they *were* pushed back. They even counterattacked in places, into thinner parts of the French blocks (screens between two denser columns probably). But the infantry was not winning, and that part of the French plan succeeded.

But the fight with the infantry had spread some disorder through the French infantry. And the British heavies charged at the exact moment some of them had chosen (probably unwisely by the way) to try to deploy into line. Although you may not realize it, there were proper intervals between the attacking columns, which are supposed to prevent a crowd-like press, even if one column breaks up. But at the moment of deploying into line, these intervals are being filled. It was also about the only time they could not have easily made the changes to form square.

That is the state they were in when the British heavy cavalry hit them. That was one of the most successful charges by cavalry against infantry in the entire Napoleonic wars, from end to end. There was nothing "deterministic" about that outcome. The Brit cavalry got lucky.

Their charge also carried them through part of the French grand battery, which caught up many of the French artillery's horses in the press. The idea of moving the grand battery forward became much harder. Then they also hit the Cuirassiers that were there to countercharge them. And broke them, which is a case of "wow", considering the disorder they were already in from the fight with the French infantry.

The British cavalry then overextended itself and was decimated by the French light cavalry riding them down on blown horses. But they had practically won the battle.

As for the charges and Ney in command, Ney did not support the charges with infantry because he couldn't find any that was effective and not committed (outside of the Guard, which was off-limits to him). Napoleon was seeing to the deployment of the reserve VI corps and young guard opposite the arriving Prussians. (It is, incidentally, a myth that he didn't know they were coming - he knew that morning, though not in what total strength).

Napoleon undoubtedly assumed that some of D'Erlons infantry would have reformed already, or that Reille would not have committed almost all of his forces (in sequence, not at once) at Hougemont. He therefore assumed Ney was supporting the charges with infantry. In fact he wasn't - all of D'Erlons men that had reformed were trying to take La Haye Saint, and Ney did not move them from that task (which he probably should have, but they may not have been enough anyway). That was a fog-of-war and unity of command stuff up, no question. Which again hardly fits the picture of it being dumb to have attacked frontally.

Wellington, who was there and running his army and counting his reserves and seeing who wavered, was not so confident that he had nothing to worry about as your description would have it. He needed and got outstanding performances from Picton's force (he died on the field leading one charge) and from the British heavy cavalry, to escape danger. There was nothing written in stone about it beforehand; it depended on a few critical passages of arms.

We are a long way from CM, I notice...

[Tris]

I don't know what source(s) you might be working from, Jason, for your appreciation of d'Erlon's attack but I'll quote mine: The Campaigns of Napoleon by David Chandler and Napoleon As a General, Vol. II by Count Yorck von Wartenburg (with West Point Atlas maps).

The grand battery was placed opposite the lowest point of the ridge, left to right, and in front of Picton's position. Its fire routed one brigade rapidly, and that sector continued to lose men. In order to avoid losing men repeatedly, the line had to be moved back about a quarter of a mile. The area along the front between the main part of Wellington's position, and Picton's part, was thus disunited somewhat - at the front. Step one.

The Allied brigade that was routed was Bylandt's, originally placed in error along the ridge in full view of Napoleon's artillery and allowed to remain there through a rare tactical oversight of Wellington's. Except for Bylandt (and a few guns placed along the crest of the ridge), however, the Allies suffered little from Napoleon's initial battery fire as most of the shells flew harmlessly overhead, and those few that did manage to land somewhere in the proximity of the Allied positions on the reverse slope were swallowed up whole by ground turned soft from the rain, thus eliminating any effects from ricochet.

You say the infantry in this area were ordered back a quarter of a mile, but this is not so. The line was ordered to initially position itself just to the northern side of the ridge line where it was out of sight of the French battery yet well-poised to contest actual possession of the ridge line itself with any French infantry attacking up its southern side. This was typical of the sort of reverse-slope tactics Wellington had employed with such great success in the Iberian Peninsula. To have ordered Picton's formations to move a quarter of a mile north would have ultimately placed this force in a place from which it could have exercised no sway in the affair whatsoever; furthermore the ground at this place on the battlefield is in places low and was probably boggy on the morning of June 18 after the previous day's downpour.

The ground in front of Picton's position is steep, and there is tons of dead ground there. On the reverse slope means unable to dispute the passage of the French infantry to the forward slope. Then both infantries are in reverse slope to each other; there is nothing to choose between them, and certainly no advantage to Picton or the British. That is step two.

There's plenty of dead ground along the southern slope for any troops positioned along the northern side of the ridge, and d'Erlon's advance benefitted here and there from ground folds and irregularities as his four divisions made their advance, but mainly the defenders had unobstructed view of the French approach and took a terrible toll of this force as it trudged up the southern slope.

Also, I would not typify this slope up to the crest line as steep but rather more shallow--a steady, gradual climb.

The next stage is to move the infantry onto the crest itself, and to dispute only the immediate area with the Brits. Understand, the Brits cannot advance to the crest, or the grand battery just starts up again. So the crest is empty. The French infantry only needs to push the Brits back a short distance, and then they can stop pressing and defend from the crest. That is step three.

That washes.

It was fully expected the Brits might try to use cavalry to get the French off the ridge again. That is why 3 cavalry divisions supported the attack, ready to countercharge. It is also part of why the French moved in formations that could form square rapidly, to repel cavalry. In most cases in Napoleonic warfare, the counter-charger has distinct advantages over the initial charger, in cavalry vs. cavalry fights, and that was the planned use of the supporting cavalry.

Well, counter-charging cavalry had its own demands and intrinsic drawbacks, but that's beside the main point, which is: the attack was not planned properly in any manner, shape or form, at base, and it was supported not by three cavalry divisions but a mere brigade (General Travers' cuirassiers) which was positioned on the left of General Donzelot's infantry division.

Once that was accomplished and the crest line made even remotely secure, the grand battery was not going to sit still, but move right up onto it. There is no additional ridge line and little if any dead ground from that crest as far as Mount St. Jean. Nothing would be able to stand on the back slope anymore. And remember, the rest of the defenders over to the left, cannot easily come across to support, if the left part of the grand battery hasn't displace yet.

Moving the Grand Battery up onto the ridge would not have been a snap. It took the French all morning to site it in its current position south of the ridge line and to move it again half a mile north, under fire and the threat of Allied interference, and at that across ground made marshy (the southern approaches to the ridge were nothing short of a morass in places and with extremely soft ground all over) would have been a magical feat. Indeed, had Napoleon succeeded in gaining firm grasp of the ridge as early of 3 o'clock in the afternoon Wellington, in all likelihood, would have been obliged to forthwith fall back to the ground directly in front of Bois de Soignies, taking his extended left flank with him. This, at best, would have left the Allied line in a kind of fish hook, with the bend approximately around La Haie-Sainte, assuming that bastion managed to hold (and it is doubtful it would have at that juncture).

Effectively, Wellington's position would have been shattered had Napoleon crested the ridge and assumed control of that high ground. What would have then happened is anyone's guess, as by that time the first columns of Bulow's IV Prussian Corps (30,000) were emerging from the high ground to the east around Chapelle-St.-Lambert, but the pendulum of the battle would certainly have swung dramatically in Napoleon's favor, and given the polyglot nature of Wellington's force I'd venture to say the day (if not the campaign) would have been lost to the Allies.

Then the ridge is turned and rolled up right to left. With the reserve - the Guard and plenty of cavalry - available to hit it from the hidden side of the hill, too. (Same location they were eventually used).

The immediate "reserve" was Count Lobau's VI Corps (10,000) which had already been committed to the line facing eastward running from Plancenoit to the Bois de Paris, along with the cavalry divisions of Domont and Subservie (these two latter formations might well have been allocated to the close support of d'Erlon's attack had the prussians not intervened as early as they did, though such orders were never, in fact, given).

The Guard, too, was drawn more and more into the holding action versus the onrushing Prussian horde, as the legions of Pirch followed hotly on the heels of Bulow's boys. The cavalry was either spent (due partly to Ney) or helping to hold the fort along the threatened eastern flank. By five o'clock or so there really wasn't much left save part of the Guard infantry and what scattered remains d'Erlon and Reille could haphazardly scrape together for that last mad scramble up the hill.

That was a very dangerous plan for the British, and it could very easily have worked. Why didn't it? First, Picton's troops put up an excellent fight, but they *were* pushed back. They even counterattacked in places, into thinner parts of the French blocks (screens between two denser columns probably). But the infantry was not winning, and that part of the French plan succeeded.

Not quite, though one French infantry division did enjoy some local success. (More on this in a moment.)

But the fight with the infantry had spread some disorder through the French infantry. And the British heavies charged at the exact moment some of them had chosen (probably unwisely by the way) to try to deploy into line. Although you may not realize it, there were proper intervals between the attacking columns, which are supposed to prevent a crowd-like press, even if one column breaks up. But at the moment of deploying into line, these intervals are being filled. It was also about the only time they could not have easily made the changes to form square.

The French were already in line, so to speak, which was the problem. You see, three of d'Erlon's divisions had been drawn up and then awkwardly advanced in colonnes de bataillon par division, or in other words divisions of battalions with massive, unwieldy 200-man battalion frontages. This decision has been argued exhaustively down through the years and it isn't even known if the formation chosen was in error or a concession on the part of d'Erlon to the lack of drill training many of his soldiers had received. In any event, a worse formation could hardly be imagined for the task at hand and any "maneuver" on the part of the three divisions so ordered was out of the question before the first battalions stepped out. If the attack succeeded it would literally be due to whatever shock value might be derived from their sheer weight of numbers on the thin Allied line, and of course on this day that wasn't enough.

So, three French infantry divisions of I Corps arrived at the Allied positions along the extended crest already in "lines," only the problem was they were ungainly lines with no chance of quickly evolving into any other formation, say, into squares in order to repel horse; indeed, such was the extreme blocky nature of the formation chosen that unusually high French casualties were suffered along the route march itself, and the only division to experience anything like success was the one drawn up in the more astute and tactically flexible colonnes de division par bataillon. This unit belonging to Durutte was sent into the battle on the far right flank and (perhaps not surprisingly in any event since it faced the least opposition, a relatively thin screen of Nassauers) enjoyed the greatest success.

That is the state they were in when the British heavy cavalry hit them. That was one of the most successful charges by cavalry against infantry in the entire Napoleonic wars, from end to end. There was nothing "deterministic" about that outcome. The Brit cavalry got lucky.

They came at the right time and I'd ascribe that more to good judgment than luck. Bad judgment was exercised in the control of these chargers shortly thereafter (this was an old problem for British cavalry, by the way), with the end result that Wellington's mounted arm was effectively crippled for the remainder of the battle. On balance the charge served its purpose, though, as d"Erlon's attack seems in hindsight to have been the only French maneuver on the day which offered even scant chance of ultimate success.

Their charge also carried them through part of the French grand battery, which caught up many of the French artillery's horses in the press. The idea of moving the grand battery forward became much harder. Then they also hit the Cuirassiers that were there to countercharge them. And broke them, which is a case of "wow", considering the disorder they were already in from the fight with the French infantry.

Again, the Grand Battery per se was going nowhere within the time frame of this battle. A few horse batteries would have moved up onto the ridge after its capture, surely, and some of the I Corps' artillery might well have been manhandled there eventually, but in the main this battery's sole work was to prepare and then cover as best it might the assault undertaken by d'Erlon in the early afternoon.

The British cavalry then overextended itself and was decimated by the French light cavalry riding them down on blown horses. But they had practically won the battle.

I agree with that, though the battle was lost more on the 17th, and even if it was not lost that previous day it was all but lost the morning of the 18th as Napoleon dreamed away time and idly reviewed his troops, meanwhile totally ignoring Grouchy (for the second day in a row!) over on his strategic right flank.

As for the charges and Ney in command, Ney did not support the charges with infantry because he couldn't find any that was effective and not committed (outside of the Guard, which was off-limits to him). Napoleon was seeing to the deployment of the reserve VI corps and young guard opposite the arriving Prussians. (It is, incidentally, a myth that he didn't know they were coming - he knew that morning, though not in what total strength).

Napoleon undoubtedly assumed that some of D'Erlon's infantry would have reformed already, or that Reille would not have committed almost all of his forces (in sequence, not at once) at Hougemont. He therefore assumed Ney was supporting the charges with infantry. In fact he wasn't - all of D'Erlons men that had reformed were trying to take La Haye Saint, and Ney did not move them from that task (which he probably should have, but they may not have been enough anyway). That was a fog-of-war and unity of command stuff up, no question. Which again hardly fits the picture of it being dumb to have attacked frontally.

It isn't clear Napoleon was at first even aware of what Ney was up to at all; during periods of the battle the Emperor was said to have lain prostrate on the ground in pain, oblivious to all around him.

Your final remark brings us back approximately to the thesis at hand. I'd add quickly that Ney was not the man to command on the day (Napoleon's staff moves throughout the course of this short campaign have come under heavy critical review and there seems little point in further bashing him at this date re that) and he hadn't a clue. Truth is, Ney was never too bright in his prime or even all that loyal to Napoleon when it came down to it. A brave soldier, yes, and under Napoleon's close supervision he served a purpose on more than one occasion, but to give someone that thick-headed independent command at such a moment was unwise to say the least. Napoleon had many times been let down by Ney's intellectual side (if one could call it that) when left to his own devices, and the Emperor ought to have known better. But then the entire campaign was one of what-ifs and so on and it was probably doomed on its face given the political climate in Europe at this time.

Wellington, who was there and running his army and counting his reserves and seeing who wavered, was not so confident that he had nothing to worry about as your description would have it. He needed and got outstanding performances from Picton's force (he died on the field leading one charge) and from the British heavy cavalry, to escape danger. There was nothing written in stone about it beforehand; it depended on a few critical passages of arms.

With this conclusion (again, keeping our main thesis in mind) I have to agree 100%. In spite of Napoleon's errors, in spite of Ney and Grouchy and all that, the main French battle plan was not hogwash in principle, had much to recommend it and was fairly dictated by the ground and circumstances faced by l'Armee du Nord on the morning of June 18, 1815. At that juncture Napoleon could have either fought on the ground of Wellington's choice or retired from the field, with an eventual concentric Allied assault of overwhelming force on France, similar to the one undertaken a year earlier, in the offing.

For Napoleon that choice had to be easy.

[This message has been edited by Tris (edited 02-04-2001).]