Some of them stood up in their seats, ready to step down into the field and congratulate Cletus as he tottered toward the conclusion of the tenth mile, which seemed obviously intended to be the end of the race. “Just a minute, please, gentlemen,” Eachan Khan said. “If you’ll hold your seats a little longer…“
He turned and nodded to Cletus, who was now passing the ten-mile mark directly in front of the viewers. Cletus nodded and kept on going.
Then, to the utter astonishment of the watchers, a remarkable thing happened. As Cletus continued around the track, his step became firmer and his breathing eased. He did not immediately pick up speed, but his pulse rate, as shown on the viewing screen, began slowly to fall.
At first it went down by ragged steps, dropping a few beats, holding firm, then dropping a few more. But as he continued, it began to drop more steadily. By the time he was back around in front of the watching officers, his pulse rate was again 150.
And his speed began to pick up. It did not pick up much; he gained back to just under six miles an hour. But he held steady at that pace, continuing to circle the track.
He ran six more laps of the track—three miles—and at the end of the third mile his speed and pulse rate were still constant. At the end of that additional third mile he stopped running, walked a lap without any sign of unusual distress, and ended up in front of the watching group, breathing normally and hardly perspiring, with his pulse in the low seventies.
“That’s it, gentlemen,” he said, addressing them all. “Now I’m going to have to take a few moments to clean up, and the rest of you may adjourn to Eachan’s house, where we’ll be able to talk in more comfort and privacy. I’ll join you there in about twenty minutes, and I’ll leave you now to consider what you’ve just seen without any further explanation, except that what you’ve just seen me do, did in fact, exact a penalty upon my bodily reserves greater than that ordinarily demanded by exertion. However, as you see, it was possible and practical, at that price.”
He turned away toward the dressing room at the near end of the stadium. The spectators moved outside to an airbus rented by Eachan, and were flown out to Eachan’s house, where the window wall along one side of the long living room had been opened up so that the living room and the patio outside became one large gathering space. Food and drink had been provided, and there, a little later, Cletus joined them.
“As you know,” he said, standing facing them as they sat in a rough semicircle in chairs about him, “all of you here were officers we invited because I hoped you might be interested in joining me in forming an entirely new military unit, a military unit I intend to command, and which would pay its officers and men only subsistence during a training period of some months, but which would thereafter pay them at least double the rate they had been receiving as mercenaries up until this time. It goes without saying that I want the cream of the crop, and that I expect that cream of the crop to invest not merely their time but their wholehearted enthusiasm in this new type of organization I have in mind.”
He paused. “That was one of the reasons for the demonstration you’ve just seen,” he said. “What you saw, in the crudest terms, was a demonstration in which I was at least half again as physically effective as my bodily energy level and conditioning would allow me to be. In short, I’ve just given you an example of how a man can make himself into a man and a half.”
He paused again, and this tune he raked his eyes over every face in the audience before he continued.
“I am going to expect,” he said, slowly and emphatically, “every enlisted man and officer in this military unit I’m forming to be able to multiply himself to at least that extent by the time he’s finished training. This is a first prerequisite, gentlemen, to anyone wishing to join me in this venture.”
He smiled, unexpectedly. “And now, relax and enjoy yourselves. Stroll around the place, look at my homemade training equipment, and ask as many questions as you like of Eachan, Melissa Khan or myself. We’ll have another meeting out here in a few days time for those of you who have decided to join us. That’s all.”
He stepped away from the center of their attention and made his way to the buffet tables where the food and drink had been set up. The gathering broke up into small groups and the hum of voices arose. By late afternoon most of the visitors had left, some twenty-six of them having pledged their services to Cletus before leaving. A somewhat large number had promised to think it over and get in touch with him within the next two days. There remained a small group of those who had already pledged themselves to Cletus before the demonstration, and these met in the once more enclosed living room after dinner for a private conference.
Present were Arvid, now recovered from his shoulder wound, Major Swahili and Major David Ap Morgan, whose family was also a Foralie neighbor. Eachan’s other officers were still back in Bakhalla commanding the force of Dorsais that remained there in Exotic pay to guard the colony, now that the Alliance had withdrawn its troops under Bat Traynor. Bat’s misgivings about leaving had not been shared by Alliance HQ back on Earth, which had been overjoyed to free nearly half a division of men to reinforce its hard-pressed military commitments on half a dozen other new worlds. In addition to Arvid, Ap Morgan, Swahili and Eachan, himself, were two old friends of Eachan’s—a Colonel Lederle Dark and a Brigadier General Tosca Aras. Dark was a thin, bald man who seemed to be all bone and long muscle under a somewhat dandified exterior. Tosca Aras was a small, neat, clean-shaven man with washed-out blue eyes and a gaze as steady as an aimed field rifle in its gun mount.
“By the end of the week,” Cletus said to them all, “anyone who hasn’t made up his mind to join us won’t be worth having. From those I talked to today, I estimate we’ll get perhaps fifty good officers, perhaps ten of which we’ll lose in training. So there’s no point in wasting time. We can start setting up a table of organization and a training schedule. We’ll train the officers, and they can train their men afterward.”
“Who’s to be in charge of the extra energy training?” asked Lederle Dark.
“I’ll have to be, to begin with,” Cletus answered him, “Right now there’s nobody else. And all of you will have to join the other officers in my classes on that. The rest of it you can all handle by yourselves—it’s simply a matter of running them through the physical and practicing standard field problems, but from the viewpoint of the new organizational setup.”
“Sir,” said Arvid, “excuse me, but I still don’t seem to really understand why we need to shake up the whole table of organization—unless you want it different just so the men in this outfit will feel that much more different.”
“No—though the feeling of difference isn’t going to do us any harm,” Cletus said. “I should have gone into this with all of you before now. The plain fact of the matter is that a military body structured into squads, platoons, companies, battalions and so on is designed to fight the type of war that used to be common but which we aren’t going to be encountering out here on the new worlds. Our fighting units are going to bear more resemblance to a group of athletes in a team sport than they are to the old type of fighting unit. The tactics they’re going to be using—my tactics—aren’t designed for structured armies in solid confrontation with each other. Instead, they’re designed to be useful to what seems to be a loose group of almost independently acting units, the efforts of which are coordinated not so much by a hierarchy of command as by the fact that, like good members of a team, they’re familiar with each other and can anticipate what their teammates will do in response to their own actions and the general situation.”
Cletus paused and looked around him. “Are there any of the rest of you who don’t understand that?” he asked.
Eachan cleared his throat. “We all understand what you say, Cletus,” he said. “But what the words are going to mean when they’re turned into battle units is something we’ve got to see before it’ll make much sense. Here you cut the squad to six men—and that’s divided
into two teams of three men each. You make four squads to a group, with a senior or junior groupman in charge, and two groups make up a force. It’s plain enough, but how’s anyone going to know how it’ll work until they see it in practice?”
“They aren’t. You aren’t—of course,” answered Cletus. “But what you can do now is absorb the theory of it, and the reasoning behind the theory. Shall I go over it again?”
There was a moment of silence.
“Probably better,” said Eachan.
“All right then,” said Cletus. “As I think I’ve told you all, the basic principle is that, from the individual right up to the largest organizations within the total Dorsai military command, each unit should be capable of reacting like a single member of a team made up of other members equal in size and importance to himself. That is, any one of the three soldiers in any given half squad should be able to operate in perfect unison with the other two members of his team with no more communication than a few code words or signals that would cue the others to standard actions or responses to any given situation. Similarly, the two teams in any squad should be able to work as partners with no more than a few code words or signals. Likewise, the four squads should be able to operate as a team in the group with each squad knowing its role in any one of a hundred or more group actions identifiable by code word or signal. Just as the two groups must be able to react together almost instinctively as a single command, the commandant of which should likewise be trained to react in pattern with the commandants of the commands with which he is associated.”
Cletus stopped talking. Once more there was the small silence.
“You say you’ll supply the patterns?” Tosca Aras said. “I mean you’ll work out all these team actions that are triggered by code words and signals and so forth?”
“I already have them worked out,” said Cletus.
“You have?” Aras’s voice teetered on the edge of incredulity. “There must be thousands of them.”
Cletus shook his head. “Something over twenty-three thousand, to be exact,” he said. “But I think you may be missing the point. The actions of a team are included within the actions of the squad, just as the actions of the squad are included within the actions of the group. In short, it’s like a language with twenty-three thousand words. There are innumerable combinations, but there’s also a logical structure. Once you master the structure, then the choice of words within the sentence is severely restricted. In fact, there’s only one ideal choice.”
“Then why have such a complicated setup anyway?” asked David Ap Morgan.
Cletus turned to look at the young major. “The value of the system,” he said, “doesn’t come so much from the fact that there are a large number of combinations of tactical actions ranging from the team on up through the command, but from the fact that any large choice of action implies a certain spectrum of choices of action for the lesser elements of the command, so that the individual soldier, on hearing the general code word for the command to which he belongs, knows immediately within what limits the actions of all the groups, all the squads and his own team must be.”
He paused. “In short,” he said, “no one, right up through the battle operator or the commander of the total military unit, simply follows orders. Instead, they all—right down to the individual line soldier—react as a team member in a common effort. The result is that breaks in the chain of command, misunderstood or incorrect orders, and all the other things that go to mess up a battle plan by mischance, are bypassed. Not only that, but from the lowest ranks on up each subordinate is ready to step into the position of his superior with 90 per cent of the necessary knowledge that his superior had at the moment the superior was put out of action.”
Arvid gave a low whistle of admiration. The other officers in the room all looked at him. With the exception of Cletus, he was the only one among them who had never been a practicing Dorsai field officer. Arvid looked embarrassed.
“A revolutionary concept,” said Tosca Aras. “More than revolutionary if it works out in practice.”
“It’s going to have to work,” said Cletus. “My whole scheme of strategy and tactics is based upon troops that can operate along those lines.”
“Well, we’ll see.” Aras picked up the thick manual Cletus had issued to each of them just after dinner and which had been lying since then in his lap. He stood up. “An old dog learning new tricks is an understatement in my case. If the rest of you gentlemen don’t mind I’ll be getting to my homework.”
He said good night and went out, starting a general exodus. Eachan stayed behind, and Arvid—Arvid, to apologize for that whistle.
“You see, sir,” he said earnestly to Cletus, “it suddenly came clear to me, all of a sudden. I hadn’t seen it before. But now I see how it all ties together.”
“Good,” said Cletus. “That’s half the learning process done for you right there.”
Arvid followed the others out of the living room. Eachan alone was left. Cletus looked at him.
“Do you see how it all hangs together?” Cletus asked him.
“Think so,” said Eachan. “But remember, I’ve been living with you for the last half year—and I know most of the patterns in that manual of yours already.”
He reached for the decanter behind the glasses ranked on the small table beside his chair and thoughtfully poured himself a small amount of whiskey.
“Shouldn’t expect too much too soon,” he said, sipping at it. “Any military man’s bound to be a bit conservative. In the nature of us. But they’ll come through, Cletus. It’s beginning to be more than just a name with us here, this business of being Dorsais.”
He turned out to be correct. By the time the officers’ training program got under way a week later, all of those who had sat in the living room with Cletus that night knew their manuals by heart—if not yet quite by instinct. Cletus divided the officers to be trained among the six of them, in groups of roughly ten each, and training began.
Cletus took the class that he had labeled simply “Relaxation,” the course that would train these officers to tap that extra source of energy he had demonstrated to them all at the Foralie stadium after running himself to the normal exhaustion point. His first class consisted of the six from the living room. Eachan was among them, although he already had more than a faint grasp of the technique involved. Cletus had been privately tutoring both him and Melissa in it for the past couple of months, and both had become noticeably capable with it. However, it was Eachan’s suggestion—and Cletus found it a good one—that his inclusion in the class would be an example to the others that someone besides Cletus could achieve unusual physiological results.
Cletus began his class just before lunch, after they had completed the full day’s physical training schedule, consisting of jungle gym, run and swim. They were physically unwound by the exercise, and more than a little empty because of the long hours since breakfast. In short, they were in a condition of maximum receptivity.
Cletus lined them up behind a long steel bar supported between two posts at about shoulder height off the ground.
“All right,” he said to them. “Now I want you all to stand on your right legs. You can reach out and touch the bar in front of you with your fingertips to help keep your balance, but take your left feet off the ground and keep them off until I tell you you can put them down again.”
They complied. Their pose was a little on the ridiculous side, and there were a few smiles at first, but these faded as the legs on which they stood began to tire. About the time when bearing all their weight upon the muscle of one leg was beginning to become actively painful, Cletus ordered them to switch legs and kept them standing with all their weight on their left legs until the muscles of calf and thigh began to tremble under their full body weight. Then he switched them back to the right leg, and then again to the left, shortening the intervals each time as the leg muscles became exhausted more quickly. Very shortly they stood before him on legs as uncertain
as those of men who had been bedridden for a period of weeks.
“All right, now,” Cletus said then, cheerfully, “I want you all up in a handstand, the palms of your hands on the ground, your arms fully extended. You can balance yourselves this time by letting your legs rest against the bar.”
They obeyed. Once they were all up, Cletus gave them a further order.
“Now,” he said, “one hand off the ground. Do your handstand on one arm only.”
When they were upside down, he went through the same process he had when they had been right side up. Only it took their arms a fraction of the time it had taken their legs to tire. Very shortly he released them from their exercise, and they all tumbled to the ground, virtually incapacitated in all their limbs.
“On your backs,” ordered Cletus. “Legs straight out, arms at your sides—but you don’t have to lie at attention. Just straighten out on your back comfortably. Eyes on the sky.”
They obeyed.
“Now,” said Cletus, pacing slowly up and down before them, “I want you just to lie there and relax while I talk to you. Watch the sky…” It was one of those high, bright blue skies with a few clouds drifting lazily across it. “Concentrate on the feeling in your arms and legs, now that they’ve been relieved from the load of supporting your bodies against the force of gravity. Be conscious of the fact that now it’s the ground supporting you—and them—and be grateful for it. Feel how heavy and limp your arms and legs are, now that they’ve given up the work of bearing weight, and are themselves being borne by the surface of the ground. Tell yourself—not out loud—in your own words how limp and heavy they are. Keep telling yourself that and watching the sky. Feel how heavy and relaxed your body is, with its weight being supported by the ground beneath your back. Feel the relaxation in your neck, in the muscles of your jaw, in your face, even in your scalp. Tell yourself how relaxed and heavy all these parts of you are and keep watching the sky. I’ll be going on talking, but pay no attention to me. Just give all your attention to what you’re telling yourself and what you’re feeling and how the sky looks…“
Tactics of Mistake Page 19