Tu Mu tells of the famous general Wu Ch’i: He wore the same clothes and ate the same food as the meanest of his soldiers, refused to have either a horse to ride or a mat to sleep on, carried his own surplus rations wrapped in a parcel, and shared every hardship with his men. One of his soldiers was suffering from an abscess, and Wu Ch’i himself sucked out the virus. The soldier’s mother, hearing this, began wailing and lamenting. Somebody asked her, “Why do you cry? Your son is only a common soldier, and yet the commander in chief himself has sucked the poison from his sore.” The woman replied: “Many years ago, Lord Wu performed a similar service for my husband, who never left him afterward, and finally met his death at the hands of the enemy. And now that he has done the same for my son, he too will fall fighting I know not where.”
If, however, you are indulgent, but unable to make your authority felt; kindhearted, but unable to enforce your commands; and incapable, moreover, of quelling disorder, then your soldiers must be likened to spoiled children; they are useless for any practical purpose.
Tu Mu writes: In A.D. 219, when Lu Meng was occupying the town of Chiang-ling, he had given stringent orders to his army not to molest the inhabitants nor take anything from them by force. Nevertheless, a certain officer serving under his banner, who happened to be a fellow townsman, ventured to appropriate a bamboo hat belonging to one of the people, in order to wear it over his regulation helmet as a protection against the rain. Lu Meng considered that the fact of his being also a native of Ju-nan should not be allowed to palliate a clear breach of discipline, and accordingly he ordered his summary execution, the tears rolling down his face, however, as he did so. This act of severity filled the army with wholesome awe, and from that time forth even articles dropped in the highway were not picked up.
If we know that our own men are in a condition to attack, but are unaware that the enemy is not open to attack, we have gone only halfway toward victory. If we know that the enemy is open to attack, but are unaware that our own men are not in a condition to attack, we have gone only halfway toward victory. If we know that the enemy is open to attack, and also know that our men are in a condition to attack, but are unaware that the nature of the ground makes fighting impracticable, we have still gone only halfway toward victory.
The experienced soldier, once in motion, is never bewildered; once he has broken camp, he is never at a loss. Hence the saying: If you know the enemy and know yourself, your victory will not stand in doubt; if you know Heaven and know Earth, you may make your victory complete.
XI
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THE NINE SITUATIONS
The art of war recognizes nine varieties of ground: dispersive ground; facile ground; contentious ground; open ground; ground of intersecting highways; serious ground; difficult ground; hemmed-in ground; desperate ground.
When a chieftain is fighting in his own territory, it is dispersive ground, so called because the soldiers, being near to their homes and anxious to see their wives and children, are likely to seize the opportunity afforded by a battle and scatter in every direction.
When he has penetrated into hostile territory, but to no great distance, it is facile ground.
Ground that is of great advantage to either side is contentious ground.
When Lu Kuang was returning from his triumphant expedition to Turkestan in A.D. 385, and had got as far as Iho, laden with spoils, Liang Hsi, administrator of Liang-chou, taking advantage of the death of Fu Chien, King of Ch’in, wanted to bar his way into the province,
Yang Han, governor of Kao-ch’ang, counseled Liang Hsi, saying: “Lu Kuang is fresh from his victories in the west, and his soldiers are vigorous and mettlesome. If we oppose him in the shifting sands of the desert, we shall be no match for him, and we must therefore try a different plan. Let us hasten to occupy the defile at the mouth of the Kao-wu pass, thus cutting him off from supplies of water, and when his troops are prostrated with thirst, we can dictate our own terms without moving. Or if you think that the pass I mention is too far off, we could make a stand against him at the I-wu pass, which is nearer. The cunning and resource of Tzu-fang himself would be expended in vain against the enormous strength of those two positions.”
Liang Hsi, refusing to act on this advice, was overwhelmed and swept away by the invader.
Ground on which each side has liberty of movement is open ground.
Ground that forms the key to three contiguous states, so that he who occupies it first has most of the empire at his command, is ground of intersecting highways.
When an army has penetrated into the heart of a hostile country, leaving a number of fortified cities in its rear, it is serious ground.
Mountain forests, rugged steeps, marshes and fens—all country that is hard to traverse: this is difficult ground.
Ground that is reached through narrow gorges, and from which we can only retire by tortuous paths, so that a small number of the enemy would suffice to crush a large body of our men: this is hemmed-in ground.
Ground on which we can only be saved from destruction by fighting without delay: this is desperate ground.
On dispersive ground, therefore, fight not. On facile ground, halt not. On contentious ground, attack not.
On open ground, do not try to block the enemy’s way. On ground of intersecting highways, join hands with your allies.
On serious ground, gather in plunder. In difficult ground, keep steadily on the march.
On hemmed-in ground, resort to stratagem.
On desperate ground, fight.
Those who were called skillful leaders of old knew how to drive a wedge between the enemy’s front and rear; to prevent cooperation between his large and small divisions; to hinder the good troops from rescuing the bad, the officers from rallying their men. When the enemy’s men were scattered, they prevented them from concentrating; even when their forces were united, they managed to keep them in disorder. When it was to their advantage, they made a forward move; when otherwise, they stopped still.
If asked how to cope with a great host of the enemy in orderly array and on the point of marching to the attack, say: “Begin by seizing something that your opponent holds dear; then he will be amenable to your will.”
Rapidity is the essence of war. Take advantage of the enemy’s unreadiness, make your way by unexpected routes, and attack unguarded spots.
In A.D. 227, Meng Ta, governor of Hsin-ch’eng under the Wei emperor, Wen Ti, was meditating defection to the House of Shu, and had entered into correspondence with Chu-ko Liang, prime minister of that state. The Wei general Ssu-ma I was then military governor of Wan, and getting wind of Meng Ta’s treachery, he at once set off with an army to anticipate his revolt, having previously cajoled him by a specious message of friendly import.
Ssu-ma’s officers came to him and said: “If Meng Ta has leagued himself with Wu and Shu, the matter should be thoroughly investigated before we make a move.”
Ssu-ma I replied: “Meng Ta is an unprincipled man, and we ought to go and punish him at once, while he is still wavering and before he has thrown off the mask.”
Then, by a series of forced marches, he brought his army under the walls of Hsin-ch’eng within the space of eight days. Now Meng Ta had previously said in a letter to Chu-ko Liang: “Wan is 1,200 li from here. When the news of my revolt reaches Ssu-ma I, he will at once inform his Imperial Master, but it will be a whole month before any steps can be taken, and by that time my city will be well fortified. Besides, Ssu-ma I is sure not to come himself, and the generals that will be sent against us are not worth troubling about.”
The next letter, however, was filled with consternation: “Though only eight days have passed since I threw off my allegiance, an army is already at the city gates. What miraculous rapidity is this!” A fortnight later, Hsin-ch’eng had fallen and Meng Ta had lost his head.
In A.D. 621, Li Ching was sent from K’uei-chou in Ssu-ch’uan to reduce the successful rebel Hsiao Hsien, who had set up as emperor at Ching-
chou Fu in Hupeh. It was autumn, and the Yangtze being then in flood, Hsiao Hsien never dreamt that his adversary would venture to come down through the gorges, and consequently made no preparations. But Li Ching embarked his army without loss of time, and was just about to start when the other generals implored him to postpone his departure until the river was in a less dangerous state for navigation.
Li Ching replied: “To the soldier, overwhelming speed is of paramount importance, and he must never miss opportunities. Now is the time to strike, before Hsiao Hsien even knows that we have got an army together. If we seize the present moment when the river is in flood, we shall appear before his capital with startling suddenness, like the thunder that is heard before you have time to stop your ears against it. This is the great principle in war. Even if he gets to know of our approach, he will have to levy his soldiers in such a hurry that they will not be fit to oppose us. Thus the full fruits of victory will be ours.”
All came about as he predicted, and Hsiao Hsien was obliged to surrender, nobly stipulating that his people should be spared and he alone suffer the penalty of death.
The following are the principles to be observed by an invading force. The farther you penetrate into a country, the greater will be the solidarity of your troops, and thus the defenders will not prevail against you. Make forays in fertile country in order to supply your army with food.
Carefully study the well-being of your men, and do not overtax them. Concentrate your energy and hoard your strength. Keep your army continually on the move, and devise unfathomable plans.
Ch’en recalls the line of action adopted in 224 B.C. by the famous general Wang Chien, whose military genius largely contributed to the success of the first Ch’en emperor. He had invaded the Ch’u state, where a universal levy was made to oppose him. But, being doubtful of the temper of his troops, he declined all invitations to fight and remained strictly on the defensive. In vain did the Ch’u general try to force a battle; day after day Wang Chien kept inside his walls and would not come out, but devoted his whole time and energy to winning the affection and confidence of his men. He took care that they should be well fed, sharing his own meals with them, provided facilities for bathing, and employed every method of judicious indulgence to weld them into a loyal and homogeneous body.
After some time had elapsed, he told certain persons to find out how the men were amusing themselves. The answer was that they were contending with one another in shot putting and long jumping. When Wang Chien heard that they were engaged in these athletic pursuits, he knew that their spirits had been strung up to the required pitch and that they were now ready for fighting. By this time the Ch’u army, after repeating their challenge again and again, had marched away eastward in disgust. Wang Chien immediately broke up his camp and followed them, and in the battle that ensued they were routed with great slaughter.
Shortly afterward, the whole of Ch’u was conquered by Wang Chien.
Throw your soldiers into positions whence there is no escape, and they will prefer death to flight. If they will face death, there is nothing they may not achieve. Officers and men alike will put forth their uttermost strength. Soldiers in desperate straits lose the sense of fear. If there is no place of refuge, they will stand firm. If they are in the heart of a hostile country, they will show a stubborn front. If there is no help for it, they will fight hard. Thus, without waiting to be marshaled, the soldiers will be constantly on the alert, and without waiting to be asked, they will do your will; without restrictions, they will be faithful; without giving orders, they can be trusted.
Prohibit the taking of omens, and do away with superstitious doubts. Then, until death itself comes, no calamity need be feared.
If soldiers are not overburdened with money, it is not because they have a distaste for riches; if their lives are not unduly long, it is not because they are disinclined to longevity.
On the day they are ordered out to battle, your soldiers may weep, some sitting up bedewing their garments, and some lying down letting the tears run down their cheeks, not because they are afraid, but because all have embraced the firm resolution to do or die. But let them once be brought to bay, and they will display the courage of a Chuan Chu or a Ts’ao Kuei.
Chuan Chu, a native of the Wu state and contemporary with Sun Tzu himself, was employed by Kung-tzu Kuang, better known as Ho Lu Wang, to assassinate his sovereign Wang Liao with a dagger that he secreted in the belly of a fish served up at a banquet. He succeeded in his attempt, but was immediately hacked to pieces by the king’s bodyguard. This was in 515 B.C.
The other hero referred to, Ts’ao Kuei, performed the exploit that had made his name famous 166 years earlier in 681 B.C. Lu had been thrice defeated by Ch’i, and was just about to conclude a treaty surrendering a large slice of territory, when Ts’ao Kuei suddenly seized Huan Kung, the Duke of Ch’i, as he stood on the altar steps and held a dagger against his chest. None of the duke’s retainers dared to move a muscle, and Ts’ao Kuei proceeded to demand full restitution, declaring that Lu was being unjustly treated because she was a smaller and weaker state.
Huan Kung, in peril of his life, was obliged to consent, whereupon Ts’ao Kuei flung away his dagger and quietly resumed his place amid the terrified assemblage without having so much as changed color.
As was to be expected, the duke wanted afterward to repudiate the bargain, but his wise old counselor, Kuan Chung, pointed out to him the danger of breaking his word, and the upshot was that this bold stroke regained for Lu the whole of what she had lost in three pitched battles.
The skillful tactician may be likened to the shuai-jan. Now the shuai-jan is a snake that is found in the Ch’ang mountains. Strike at its head, and you will be attacked by its tail; strike at its tail, and you will be attacked by its head; strike at its middle, and you will be attacked by head and tail both.
Asked if an army can be made to imitate the shuai-jan, answer yes. For the men of Wu and the men of Yueh are enemies; yet if they are crossing a river in the same boat and are caught by a storm, they will come to each other’s assistance just as the left hand helps the right.
It is not enough to put one’s trust in the tethering of horses and the burying of chariot wheels in the ground. It is not enough to render flight impossible by such mechanical means. You will not succeed unless your men have tenacity and unity of purpose, and above all, a spirit of sympathetic cooperation. This is the lesson which can be learned from the shuai-jan.
The principle on which to manage an army is to set up one standard of courage that all must reach.
How to make the best of both strong and weak is a question involving the proper use of ground.
The skillful general conducts his army just as though he were leading a single man by the hand.
It is the business of a general to be quiet and thus ensure secrecy; upright and just, and thus maintain order. He must be able to mystify his officers and men by false reports and appearances, and thus keep them in total ignorance.
In the year A.D. 88 Pan Ch’ao took the field with 25,000 men from Khotan and other central Asian states with the object of crushing Yarkand. The King of Kutcha replied by dispatching his chief commander to succor the place with an army drawn from the kingdoms of Wen-su, Ku-mo, and Wei-t’ou, totaling 50,000 men.
Pan Ch’ao summoned his officers and also the King of Khotan to a council of war, and said: “Our forces are now outnumbered and unable to make headway against the enemy. The best plan, then, is for us to separate and disperse, each in a different direction. The King of Khotan will march away by the easterly route, and I will then return myself toward the west. Let us wait until the evening drum has sounded and then start.
Pan Ch’ao now secretly released the prisoners whom he had taken alive, and the King of Kutcha was thus informed of his plans. Much elated by the news, the latter set off at once at the head of 10,000 horsemen to bar Pan Ch’ao’s retreat in the west, while the King of Wen-su rode eastward with 9,000 horses in
order to intercept the King of Khotan.
As soon as Pan Ch’ao knew that the two chieftains had gone, he called his divisions together, got them well in hand, and at cockcrow hurled them against the army of Yarkand, as it lay encamped. The barbarians, panic-stricken, fled in confusion, and were closely pursued by Pan Ch’ao. Over 5,000 heads were brought back as trophies, besides immense spoils in the form of horses and cattle and valuables of every description. Yarkand then capitulating, Kutcha and the other kingdoms drew off their respective forces. From that time forward, Pan Ch’ao’s prestige completely overawed the countries of the west.
By altering his arrangements and changing his plans, the skillful general keeps the enemy without definite knowledge. By shifting his camp and taking circuitous routes, he prevents the enemy from anticipating his purpose. At the critical moment, the leader of an army acts like one who has climbed up a height and then kicks away the ladder behind him. He carries his men deep into hostile territory before he shows his hand. He burns his boats and breaks his cooking pots; like a shepherd driving a flock of sheep, he drives his men this way and that, and none knows whither he is going.
To muster his host and bring it into danger—this may be termed the business of the general.
The different measures suited to the nine varieties of ground; the expediency of aggressive or defensive tactics; and the fundamental laws of human nature: these are things that must most certainly be studied.
When invading hostile territory, the general principle is that penetrating deeply brings cohesion; penetrating but a short way means dispersion.
When you leave your own country behind, and take your army across neighboring territory, you find yourself on critical ground. When there are means of communication on all four sides, the ground is one of intersecting highways. When you penetrate deeply into a country, it is serious ground. When you penetrate but a little way, it is facile ground. When you have the enemy’s strongholds on your rear, and narrow passes in front, it is hemmed-in ground. When there is no place of refuge at all, it is desperate ground.
The Art of War Page 5