The Art of War (7 page)

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.

On dispersive ground, inspire your men with unity of purpose. On facile ground, see that there is close connection between all parts of the army. On contentious ground, hurry up your rear guard. On open ground, keep a vigilant eye on your defenses, fearing a surprise attack.

On ground of intersecting highways, consolidate your alliances.

On serious ground, ensure a continuous stream of supplies. On difficult ground, keep pushing on along the road.

On hemmed-in ground, block any way of retreat to make it seem that you mean to defend the position, whereas your real intention is to burst suddenly through the enemy’s lines.

In
A.D.
532, Kao Huan, afterward emperor and canonized as Shen-wu, was surrounded by a great army under Ehr-chu Chao and others. His own force was comparatively small, consisting only of 2,000 horse and something under 30,000 foot. The lines of investment had not been drawn very closely together, gaps being left at certain points. But Kao Huan, instead of trying to escape, actually made a shift to block all the remaining outlets himself by driving into them a number of oxen and donkeys roped together. As soon as his officers and men saw that there was nothing for it but to conquer or die, their spirits rose to an extraordinary pitch of exaltation, and they charged with such desperate ferocity that the opposing ranks broke and crumbled under their onslaught.

On desperate ground, proclaim to your soldiers the hopelessness of saving their lives. The only chance of life lies in giving up all hope of it.

For it is the soldier’s disposition to offer an obstinate resistance when surrounded, to fight hard when he cannot help himself, and to obey promptly when he has fallen into danger.

In
A.D.
73, when Pan Ch’ao arrived at Shan-shan, Kuang, the king of the country, received him at first with great politeness and respect; but shortly afterward his behavior underwent a sudden change, and he became remiss and negligent.

Pan Ch’ao spoke about this to the officers of his suite: “Have you not noticed,” he said, “that Kuang’s polite intentions are on the wane? This must signify that envoys have come from the northern barbarians, and that consequently he is in a state of indecision, not knowing with which side to throw in his lot. That surely is the reason. The truly wise man, we are told, can perceive things before they have come to pass; how much more, then, those that are already manifest!”

Thereupon he called one of the natives who had been assigned to his service and set a trap for him, saying: “Where are those envoys from the Hsiung-nu who arrived some days ago?”

The man was so taken aback that between surprise and fear he presently blurted out the whole truth. Pan Ch’ao, keeping his informant carefully under lock and key, then summoned a general gathering of his officers, thirty-six in all, and began drinking with them. When the wine had mounted into their heads a little, he tried to rouse their spirit still further by addressing them thus: “Gentlemen, here we are in the heart of an isolated region, anxious to achieve riches and honor by some great exploit. Now it happens that an ambassador from the Hsiung-nu arrived in this kingdom only a few days ago, and the result is that the respectful courtesy extended toward us by our royal host has disappeared. Should this envoy prevail upon him to seize our party and hand us over to the Hsiung-nu, our bones will become food for the wolves of the desert. What are we to do?”

With one accord, the officers replied: “
Standing as we do in peril of our lives, we will follow our commander through life and death.
”

We cannot enter into alliance with neighboring princes until we are acquainted with their designs. We are not fit to lead an army on the march unless we are familiar with the face of the country—its mountains and forests, its pitfalls and precipices, its marshes and swamps. We shall be unable to turn natural advantages to account unless we make use of local guides.

To be ignorant of any one of the following four or five principles does not befit a warlike prince.

When a warlike prince attacks a powerful state, his generalship shows itself in preventing the concentration of the enemy’s forces. He overawes his opponents, and their allies are prevented from joining against him. In attacking a powerful state, if you can divide her forces, you will have a superiority in strength; if you have a superiority in strength, you will overawe the enemy; if you overawe the enemy, the neighboring states will be frightened; and if the neighboring states are frightened, the enemy’s allies will be prevented from joining her.