[Continuing chapter thirteen]
He hadn’t really thought about it, he realized. The subject must be important, he concluded, else Wheat would not have brought it up. But what would it do to the captain’s opinion of him were he to admit ignorance? “I assume that the men I know fight for honor,” he said. “I can only guess at the motivation of most soldiers. Probably to avoid being whipped by their officers would be my guess.”
“And there may well be some men who are like that. But don’t be upset, Patton, when I tell you that in my experience you’re being unfair to the common soldier. Disgusting brutes though they may otherwise be.”
“Was that another example of your style of leadership? Tell me I’m wrong and then make a joke so I won’t feel so bad?”
“See? You’re learning already!” Wheat smiled. “You going to finish that?” He pointed to Patton’s cup. “It’s going to get stale.”
“Here.” Patton handed him the cup. Wheat surprised him, though, by sipping carefully rather than draining it. “Last of the nectar for tonight,” he said, catching Patton’s expression. “Want to make it last.” He shook his head. “So where were we?”
“You were telling me why it is that the privates fight.”
“And all I’ll be doing in telling you that, sir, is repeating what you said to me just a few moments ago.”
This is a trick, Patton thought. I haven’t said anything to him. No, wait. He asked me a question. Why do men fight? “Honor?” He closed his eyes, as though not seeing could somehow make him understand. “You’re telling me that those thick-headed German peasants are capable of fighting for honor’s sake? They don’t even understand the meaning of the word.”
“Perhaps not as we do, Patton.” Wheat smiled a little blearily. “And they’d probably cut out your tongue if you accused them of having anything to do with what we call honor.
“But all men have a sense of honor that’s their own, Patton. Even the Indians on the northern border of this hideous, flat, never-ending place have a sense of honor. If by honor you mean that they crave the approval of their fellows. They might not care what John Calhoun thinks—sorry, thought; God rest his soul. But they care deeply what the man in the next tent thinks of them as men. They’ll fight when their backs are up against it because they want their fellows to know that they stood when it counted. I’ve seen it time and again. Even Fontaine’s seen it, though he’d be loath to admit it.”
“They don’t want to be thought of as cowards.”
“Not by the men they stand beside. I’m sure they don’t care a damn about anyone else, as a rule. But to a soldier in an army, nothing else matters so much as the respect of the men they serve with.”
“So if I can make my men respect me, they’ll want my approval and respect of them as well.” I shouldn’t have had the whiskey, Patton thought. This seems important, and I’m probably not going to remember it tomorrow.
“You are correct, sir. They have to obey you because ultimately they want to obey you—it’s important to them that their actions meet with your approval. Congratulations, Patton. You have demonstrated an understanding of today’s lesson. And now”—he turned slowly and deliberately back to the camp—“we should withdraw from the field, the better to fight tomorrow if it come to that.”
Patton stumbled trying to catch up with Wheat. I have a lot to learn, he thought. And a lot more drinking to do if I’m ever to be able to keep up with this man. “You haven’t told me how I’m to go about making my men respect me,” he said. “Surely I can’t just line them up on parade and order them to like and respect me.”
“I should have thought that obvious,” Wheat said. He walked on in silence for a moment. Then he said, “Perhaps I’ve been guilty of forgetting that I’ve been doing this for all of my adult life. Just because it now comes naturally to me doesn’t mean that it always did. I apologize for my presumption, Patton.” He stopped and turned to face Patton, who continued a few paces further before realizing that Wheat was no longer beside him.
“The best way to earn the respect of your men,” Wheat said, “is to show yourself willing to do everything you want your men to do. Care for your men, share what they share, and they’ll follow you.”
Next Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six
“And there may well be some men who are like that. But don’t be upset, Patton, when I tell you that in my experience you’re being unfair to the common soldier. Disgusting brutes though they may otherwise be.”
“Was that another example of your style of leadership? Tell me I’m wrong and then make a joke so I won’t feel so bad?”
“See? You’re learning already!” Wheat smiled. “You going to finish that?” He pointed to Patton’s cup. “It’s going to get stale.”
“Here.” Patton handed him the cup. Wheat surprised him, though, by sipping carefully rather than draining it. “Last of the nectar for tonight,” he said, catching Patton’s expression. “Want to make it last.” He shook his head. “So where were we?”
“You were telling me why it is that the privates fight.”
“And all I’ll be doing in telling you that, sir, is repeating what you said to me just a few moments ago.”
This is a trick, Patton thought. I haven’t said anything to him. No, wait. He asked me a question. Why do men fight? “Honor?” He closed his eyes, as though not seeing could somehow make him understand. “You’re telling me that those thick-headed German peasants are capable of fighting for honor’s sake? They don’t even understand the meaning of the word.”
“Perhaps not as we do, Patton.” Wheat smiled a little blearily. “And they’d probably cut out your tongue if you accused them of having anything to do with what we call honor.
“But all men have a sense of honor that’s their own, Patton. Even the Indians on the northern border of this hideous, flat, never-ending place have a sense of honor. If by honor you mean that they crave the approval of their fellows. They might not care what John Calhoun thinks—sorry, thought; God rest his soul. But they care deeply what the man in the next tent thinks of them as men. They’ll fight when their backs are up against it because they want their fellows to know that they stood when it counted. I’ve seen it time and again. Even Fontaine’s seen it, though he’d be loath to admit it.”
“They don’t want to be thought of as cowards.”
“Not by the men they stand beside. I’m sure they don’t care a damn about anyone else, as a rule. But to a soldier in an army, nothing else matters so much as the respect of the men they serve with.”
“So if I can make my men respect me, they’ll want my approval and respect of them as well.” I shouldn’t have had the whiskey, Patton thought. This seems important, and I’m probably not going to remember it tomorrow.
“You are correct, sir. They have to obey you because ultimately they want to obey you—it’s important to them that their actions meet with your approval. Congratulations, Patton. You have demonstrated an understanding of today’s lesson. And now”—he turned slowly and deliberately back to the camp—“we should withdraw from the field, the better to fight tomorrow if it come to that.”
Patton stumbled trying to catch up with Wheat. I have a lot to learn, he thought. And a lot more drinking to do if I’m ever to be able to keep up with this man. “You haven’t told me how I’m to go about making my men respect me,” he said. “Surely I can’t just line them up on parade and order them to like and respect me.”
“I should have thought that obvious,” Wheat said. He walked on in silence for a moment. Then he said, “Perhaps I’ve been guilty of forgetting that I’ve been doing this for all of my adult life. Just because it now comes naturally to me doesn’t mean that it always did. I apologize for my presumption, Patton.” He stopped and turned to face Patton, who continued a few paces further before realizing that Wheat was no longer beside him.
“The best way to earn the respect of your men,” Wheat said, “is to show yourself willing to do everything you want your men to do. Care for your men, share what they share, and they’ll follow you.”
Next Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six
Chapter Thirteen
No comments:
Post a Comment