The Art of War (6 page)

With regard to
narrow passes,
if you can occupy them first, let them be strongly garrisoned and await the advent of the enemy. Should the enemy forestall you in occupying a pass, do not go after him if the pass is fully garrisoned, but only if it is weakly garrisoned.

With regard to
precipitous heights
, if you precede your adversary, occupy the raised and sunny spots, and there wait for him to come up.

Chang Yu tells the following anecdote of P’ei Hsing-chien (
A.D.
619–682), who was sent on a punitive expedition against the Turkic tribes.

At nightfall he pitched his camp as usual, and it had already been completely fortified by wall and ditch when suddenly he gave orders that the army should shift its quarters to a hill nearby. This was highly displeasing to his officers, who protested loudly against the extra fatigue that it would entail on the men. P’ei Hsing-chien, however, paid no heed to their remonstrances and had the camp moved as quickly as possible. The same night, a terrific storm came on, which flooded their former place of encampment to the depth of over twelve feet. The recalcitrant officers were amazed at the sight, and owned that they had been in the wrong.

“How did you know what was going to happen?” they asked.

P’ei Hsing-chien replied: “From this time forward be content to obey orders without asking unnecessary questions.”

Remember, if the enemy has occupied precipitous heights before you, do not follow him, but retreat and try to entice him away.

With regard to
positions at a great distance from the enemy,
if the strength of the two armies is equal, it is not easy to provoke a battle, and fighting will be to your disadvantage.

Sometimes an army is exposed to calamities, not arising from natural causes, but from faults for which the general is responsible. These are: flight; insubordination; collapse; ruin; disorganization; rout.

Other conditions being equal, if one force is hurled against another ten times its size, the result will be the
flight
of the former.

When the common soldiers are too strong and their officers too weak, the result is
insubordination.

Tu Mu cites the unhappy case of T’ien Pu, who was sent to Wei in
A.D.
821 with orders to lead an army against Wang T’ing-ts’ou. But the whole time he was in command, his soldiers treated him with the utmost contempt, and openly flouted his authority by riding about the camp on donkeys, several thousand at a time. T’ien Pu was powerless to put a stop to this conduct, and when, after some months had passed, he made an attempt to engage the enemy, his troops turned tail and dispersed in every direction. After that, the unfortunate man committed suicide by cutting his throat.

When the officers are too strong and the common soldiers too weak, the result is
collapse.

When the higher officers are angry and insubordinate, and on meeting the enemy give battle on their own account from a feeling of resentment, before the commander in chief can tell whether or not he is in a position to fight, the result is
ruin.

When the general is weak and without authority; when his orders are not clear and distinct; when there are no fixed duties assigned to officers and men, and the ranks are formed in a slovenly, haphazard manner, the result is utter
disorganization.

When a general, unable to estimate the enemy’s strength, allows an inferior force to engage a larger one, or hurls a weak detachment against a powerful one, and neglects to place picked soldiers in the front rank, the result must be a
rout.

These are the six ways of courting defeat—neglect to estimate the enemy’s strength; want of authority; defective training; unjustifiable anger; nonobservance of discipline; failure to use picked men—all of which must be carefully noted by the general who has attained a responsible post.

The natural formation of the country is the soldier’s best ally; but a power of estimating the adversary, of controlling the forces of victory, and of shrewdly calculating difficulties, dangers, and distances, constitutes the test of a great general. He who knows these things, and in fighting puts his knowledge into practice, will win his battles. He who knows them not, nor practices them, will surely be defeated.

If fighting is sure to result in victory, then you must fight, even though the ruler forbid it; if fighting will not result in victory, then you must not fight, even at the ruler’s bidding.

The general who advances without coveting fame and retreats without fearing disgrace, whose only thought is to protect his country and do good service for his sovereign, is the jewel of the kingdom.

Regard your soldiers as your children, and they will follow you into the deepest valleys; look on them as your own beloved sons, and they will stand by you even unto death.

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.

T
he 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.