CHAPTER 1: War Is Logistics
“Without supplies, no army is brave”
—Frederick II of Prussia, in his Instruction for his
Generals, 1747
Military
logistics was very much in the forefront of the mind of the Western
world at the beginning of the 1990s as the United States, the United Kingdom,
and its more than two dozen Coalition partners rampaged to victory in the short,
blitzkrieg-like war known as Desert Storm, liberating Kuwait from Iraqi
occupation. More than in any previous war, the media, taking their cue
from the victorious commanding Coalition general, General H. Norman Schwarzkopf,
focused on the logistic skills of the winning side. Hitherto this was unknown
territory for the modern day press.
TV networks
aired clips of the Coalition’s combined formidable might that was deployed in
Saudi Arabia, an astounding 670,000 men from 28 nations—while newspapers devoted
considerable space to the vast numbers of soldiers, vehicles, and tonnages that
were successfully moved to support them. After all, during the methodical
six-month buildup prior to combat, Operation Desert Shield, the logistics was
all there was to write about.
Most
importantly, and impressively, the massive logistic preparations leading up to
Desert Storm itself worked. Somehow the 150,000 troops of the U.S. VII and XVII
Corps, with all their advanced weapons, ammunition, and supplies were able to
secretly move 150 miles across the forbidding Arabian desert; in fact, most of
their supplies were actually waiting for the troops when they got there!
Simultaneously, the U.S.
82nd Airborne Division rampaged 250 miles across Iraq, with ample no hitch and
with ample support. How?
Elementary,
Schwarzkopf said, “logistics.”
Both at his
famous press conferences as well as later in his memoirs, Stormin’ Norman called
Desert Storm a “logistician’s war,” handing much of the credit for the
Coalition’s lightning-swift victory to his chief logistician, or quartermaster
general, as he would have been called in a previous era, Lieutenant General Gus
Pagonis. Pagonis, Schwarzkopf declared, was an “Einstein who could make
anything happen,” and, in the Gulf War, did.
Likewise,
media pundits from NBC’s John Chancellor on down also attributed the successful
result of the war to logistics.
What was that
and what did it have to do with war?
Of course,
logistics has everything to do with war. Indeed, as demonstrated below,
logistics is war, and the art of supply chain management derives directly
from military logistics.
This explains
why Lieutenant General William G. Pagonis, the logistical wizard behind the
Allied success in Operation Desert Storm, was able to readily adapt so many of
the strategies and tactics he developed and used to move mountains for the U.S.
Army to his subsequent and current position as senior vice president of supply
chain management for Sears, Roebuck. Sears, Roebuck hired him directly from the
military in 1991.
Fascinatingly,
and revealingly, although the wizard has been working in the civilian sector for
over a decade, his chief hero continues to be none other than his Greek
ancestor, Alexander the Great, who inspired one of Pagonis’ best-remembered
logistical innovations, the mobile firebase. As he confirmed in a recent
interview, his personal hall of fame also includes such generals as Ulysses
Grant and George Patton.
Why? And what
do you as a forward-looking, innovative corporate planner or executive have to
learn from these past figures? A lot, as you will see.
——
First, get
your definitions straight. So, what exactly is logistics?
Definitions
differ. In his authoritative book on military logistics, Supplying War,
scholar Martin van Creveld defines logistics as “the practical art of moving
armies and keeping them supplied.” Jane’s Dictionary of Military Terms
describes it as the art of “planning and carrying out the movement and
maintenance of forces.” Both definitions are valid.
So is the more
comprehensive (and somewhat harder to chew) definition that Pagonis uses in his
instructive memoir of the Gulf War,
Moving
Mountains.
According to the former head of the U.S. Army’s 22nd Support Command,
military logistics equals the “transportation, supply, warehousing, maintenance,
procurement, contracting and automation into [sic] a single function that
ensures no suboptimization of those areas to allow the overall accomplishment of
a particular strategy, objective, or mission.”
Chapter 4, The
Soldier is Customer, will zoom in a little closer on Pagonis, who went on to
brilliantly manage logistics for Sears, Roebuck and Co. In addition to taking a
closer look at Pagonis’ historic achievement in Kuwait, Chapter 4 will also
explore the surprisingly close relationship between military and business
logistics.
Indeed, as
seen from Pagonis’ example, as well as those of the many retired or former
military logisticians who have applied their knowledge and skills to business
logistics since World War II, business logistics is essentially an offshoot of
military logistics. So it behooves you to look at the military side of the
logistical coin first, besides the fact that the history and development of
military logistics is a fascinating and important story unto itself. For, most
popular literature about war notwithstanding, war is not just about tactics and
strategy. War is, as the media and general public, not to mention many in the
military itself, belatedly gleaned in Kuwait, also, as General Schwarzkopf
reminded America, very often about logistics.
Back to
definitions. There is another, even more wide-sweeping, nonkhaki definition of
logistics than Pagonis’ quite comprehensive one that is also useful and
valid in analyzing the broad sweep of military history. Successful military
logistics can also mean the ability of the entire nation, or the
national infrastructure and manufacturing base to support its armed forces, much
as America did during World War II, when American industry hearkened to
President Roosevelt’s call for the country to become “the arsenal of
democracy.”
In this sense,
the greatest logistical hero of World War II was, arguably, a civilian, Henry
Kaiser, the West Coast-based shipbuilder and manufacturing wizard who
revolutionized the shipbuilding industry. He played a major role in winning the
war through his extraordinary employment of mass prefabrication.
As John
Keegan, the distinguished military historian, writes in his landmark book, A
History of Warfare, “It was America’s industry that overwhelmed its German
and Japanese enemies, though only because American shipyards also supplied the
transportation to move it.”
Ultimately,
more than 51,000,000 tons of merchant shipping was built by United States
shipyards between 1941 and 1945, including some 10,000 Liberty and Victory
freighters and T2 tankers. Kaiser’s titanic shipyards in California and Oregon
were responsible for nearly one third of that output, as well as the most
speedily built ships. When Kaiser, whose prior experience was in building dams
and highways and was such a landlubber that he called the bow of a ship “the
front end,” first responded to the need for more tonnage, partly to replace the
millions of tons sunk by Admiral Doenitz’s happily marauding submarines, it took
an average of 150 days to build a Liberty ship.
By the end of
1942, Kaiser’s flying troupes of engineers and machinists were able to cut that
time down to an astounding four days and fifteen hours and were turning out a
ship a day, a rate Kaiser maintained until the end of the war, thus
helping to win the crucial “Battle of the Atlantic.” For four years the
impetuous builder—whose factories also turned out dozens of innovative and
effective light, or jeep carriers was the personification of the arsenal
of democracy, and of American logistical can do.
In short,
military logistics, especially modern day military logistics, is not just a
uniformed matter. General Pagonis may well have been the outstanding logistical
hero of the Gulf War—but so were the men and women back home who made the
equipment which he and the men and women under him then successfully managed to
get to the battlefront itself.
——
However
narrowly or broadly one defines the art of military logistics it is hard to
underestimate its importance in war. Logistics governs what units a nation’s
armed forces can deploy, the phasing of its war plans, as well as the selection
of tactical objectives. Without logistics, quite simply, war plans cannot be
supplied, hence they cannot be executed.
To be sure,
logistics isn’t the whole game in war. As John Keegan, again, notes in
A History of Warfare, “logistic supremacy on its own rarely wins a
campaign against a determined enemy.” Thus, the Union armies which hapless
General George McLellan led in the botched Peninsula Campaign of 1862 were
better-supplied than their oft-bedraggled counterparts. However the latter were
better led and better motivated—which is why McLellan was replaced later that
year.
Fortunately,
McLellan’s replacement, Ulysses S. Grant, was a superior leader and tactician,
not to mention a superior logistician. Later, after the tide of the Civil War
had turned—thanks in part to Grant’s brutal, logistic-minded, “total war”
strategy—and the South was even more bedraggled, its forces were still able to
put up a formidable fight, and occasionally win battles on the field. However,
the South’s utter logistic defeat, the near vitiation of its economy and war
arsenal, meant that its total defeat was only a matter of time.
——
What, exactly,
makes for a logistically astute and effective military commander?
According to
P.D. Foxton, a career British logistics officer, and author of Powering War:
Modern Land Force Logistics, the key traditional principles of effective
military logistics are: foresight, or the ability to plan and provide for one’s
forces’ supply and transport on the battlefield, as well as to counter an
opponent’s logistics; flexibility, the ability to adapt logistic plans to
dynamic battlefield conditions; economy, the ability to make most economic or
efficient, use of available materiel and supplies, including raw material;
simplicity, the ability or talent to make logistic plans as simple as possible,
and to clearly articulate them; cooperation, the ability to secure the
cooperation of one’s allies or hosts in accomplishing the overall mission.
Most of these
principles can also be retroactively applied as criteria for evaluating the
logistic competence of the great captains or commanders of history.
Unsurprisingly, most, if not all, of the great commanders of military history,
have also been great, or at least competent logisticians. They had to be, in
order to win.
How
consistently they managed their logistics, as you shall also see, is another
matter.
Finally, added
to the above criteria is one more crucial criterion for measuring logistical
competence and greatness: innovation.
As it happens,
these are also effective criteria for evaluating the great captains of business,
and how well and efficiently they run their logistics.
But first,
using these criteria, look back two millennia and take a look at history’s first
great captain—some say greatest—Alexander the Great.
——
When, during
the tense hours before Operation Desert Shield gave way to Operation Desert
Storm, Norman Schwarzkopf, asked his chief logistician upon what doctrine his
logistical plan for the pending war was based, Schwarzkopf was somewhat taken
aback by Gus Pagonis’ reply. “I got the idea from a fellow Greek,” the
general-cum-military history student replied with a straight face “…Alexander
the Great.”
Schwarzkopf,
no mean student of military history himself, should not have been surprised by
Pagonis’ seemingly flip answer.
To be sure, in
addition to being history’s first great Captain, Philip II, as he was originally
known, was also its first logistician. Before he arrived on the world stage in
the 4th century B.C. and unleashed his merciless phalanxes on his
hapless Near Eastern and Asian neighbors, military leaders did not worry unduly
about how to supply their small, usually close ranging forces. When necessary,
the four legged supply trains attached to prehistoric armies could be
supplemented by ad hoc plundering or foraging. Logistics—supply and
transport—was not something the average early day commander gave much considered
thought.
However,
Alexander’s sweeping imperial ambitions put him into a new strategic, and thus
logistic league altogether. The brilliant, impetuous, and somewhat mad (though
no more than any of the other great megalomaniacs of history) Greek literally
wished to conquer the world, and to a remarkable degree possessed the logistical
genius to fulfill his grandiose ambitions.
Indeed, as
Donald Engels convincingly demonstrates in his 1977 book, Alexander the Great
and the Logistics of the Macedonian War—the same monograph that Pagonis
cites as his logistical bible—in which Engels describes the massive and
sophisticated logistics behind Alexander’s 4,000 mile march from Egypt through
Persia to India, the longest in history, logistics was at the heart of both
Alexander’s strategy and tactics.
As Engels
shows, few commanders in chief have given as much advance thought to their
supply and transport problems as did Alexander. For his armies to be
successful, he recognized from the start, they had to be as mobile as possible.
This meant that they had to be as light as possible. The enormous impedimenta
of his predecessors, with their cumbrous trains of wagons, women, and livestock,
simply wouldn’t do. Alexander wanted—needed—a long range striking force that
was lean and mean. And he got it.
As Frontinius,
the Roman military historian, would later write with no little admiration,
“When Alexander organized his first army he ordered that no one was to use a
wagon. The horsemen he allowed one servant each, but for the infantry he
permitted for every ten men one attendant only who was charged with carrying
milling equipment and ropes.”
Instead of the
useless or hangers on of yore, Alexander’s highly sophisticated army was the
first to employ specially trained engineers and quartermasters, in addition to
cavalry and infantry. These primeval engineers played a crucial role in
Alexander’s early, successful efforts to reduce the fortified cities of
Halicarnassus, Tyre, Gaza, and other citadels, as well as his later great
marches. His able quartermasters, for their part, would administer the best
logistic system of the day, and one that would endure to the 20th
century, inspiring future logisticians right up to Gus Pagonis.
Perhaps the
most distinctive aspect of that system—and the one, as you shall see, that
Pagonis was most directly inspired by—was Alexander’s invention and
establishment of advance supply depots for his armies, to reinforce them
when they got there. To install this advance depot network, Alexander
sent his representatives ahead of his troops with instructions to purchase food
or forage in exchange for cash or the promise of payment after victory. Troop
garrisons were then installed in order to oversee these supply dumps.
These advance
provisioners had broad latitude of action. If the leaders or representatives in
the territories Alexander intended to traverse and/or conquer and/or do battle
on refused to allow such depots to be built, he simply instructed his men to
take hostages to ensure that they were. Involuntary cooperation, you might call
it. But it worked.
Thus
established, these depots enabled Alexander’s sprawling armies to hop from one
depot, and one more or less easily annexed territory, to another. The savvy
Greek also synchronized his advance with the harvest dates in the conquered, or
soon-to-be conquered countries. That’s foresight.
That’s
logistics.
Once underway,
the economy-minded commander never took supplies for granted, often ordering his
men to force march in order to conserve their stores. Effective and vigilant
control and command of the supply side of war, Alexander understood—as all the
great captains of history have understood—was a prerequisite, if not the
prerequisite for command and control of the battlefield itself.
Alexander was
also the first military leader to work out the basic math behind supplying a
large, expeditionary army. After considerable trial and error, Alexander and
his military engineers calculated the effective tactical range of their force as
no more than eight days from the point of supply, either by stationary or
floating depot.
The distances
and dimensions of Alexander’s 4,000 mile march still boggle the mind. Thus, for
Alexander’s longest march from his home base, in 326 B.C., between the River
Indus and the Markan in Baluchistan, a distance of 300 miles, he and his
quartermasters managed to stockpile, by hook or crook, no less than 52,000 tons
of provisions, sufficient to supply his sleek army of 87,000 infantry and 52,000
support crew during the four months they successfully operated in the region.
Since an
animal train would have consumed its load, and the men eaten their individual
allotments of thirty pounds of provisions well before the march was complete, he
counted on the accompanying fleet to resupply his men as they marched near the
Indian Ocean coast.
In the
event—and unfortunately for him—Alexander also counted on the seasonal Asian
monsoon to refresh the rivers from which his men would then take water at their
estuaries.
However, in
this case, Alexander’s carefully thought out plans were undone by the fog of
war. That fateful year—326 B.C.—the Asian monsoon blew in a different direction
than it normally did. Instead of helping him, the monsoon hindered him, its
winds confining his fleet to the mouth of the Indus, while his men died of
thirst and starvation. Three quarters of his men were lost.
For all his
foresight, Alexander had not been able to secure the cooperation of the gods.
Twenty two
hundred years later, in Normandy, an equally unexpected onslaught of monsoon
weather created similar havoc with the armies of General Dwight Eisenhower,
severing their supply link to England, and depriving forward troops of
supplies. There were fewer immediate casualties than in Baluchistan, but the
chaos on the beaches, as well as further inland, as Eisenhower’s and
Montgomery’s phalanxes ran short of fuel and ammunition, temporarily halting
their advance were nearly as fatal to the Allied advance as it was to
Alexander’s.
Fortunately,
Ike’s clever logisticians were able to improvise their way out of the deadly
logjam by jerry-rigging the motorized Red Ball Express and the Allies’ bogged
down battlewagon was able to move on.
Alexander’s
quartermasters were no less innovative. Unfortunately, they didn’t have
trucks. The weather gods won. But that does not take anything away from his
manifest genius as a commander, as well as history’s first great logistician.
——
The next great
captain—and great logistician—to emerge from the mists of ancient military
history was the redoubtable Carthagian general, Hannibal. When the Second Punic
War between Carthage and Rome broke out in 218 B.C., this brave, bold, and
innovative commander decided to take the fight to Italy itself. To do so, he
used a novel means of bringing his men and their supplies to the Mediterranean
battlefront: the elephant truck.
Braving
formidable difficulties and hardships, Hannibal led his army of 60,000 stout
hearted men, backed up by 37 no less stout hearted elephants, across the Spanish
Pyrenees, whereupon his forces crossed the Rhone River over history’s first
pontoon bridges—which had to be strong enough to bear the weight of his baying
elephant train—then across and through the Little St. Bernard Pass into Italy,
and finally onto three successive victories over the Romans in two years: a
remarkable combined feat of arms and logistics.
In addition to
being superb carriers of men and materiel, Hannibal’s African-imported elephant
fleet also had the welcome psychological side effect of scaring the living
bejesus out of the earthbound Roman troops, once they loomed into the
sight—although this advantage was sometimes dissipated when the beasts ran amok
in the ensuing battle itself.
In the event,
Hannibal’s inadequate logistics undid him. His lack of reinforcements or
forward supply depots fatally weakened his expeditionary force, and the
offensive threat they posed, allowing the Romans to recover from their initial
surprise and divert some of their stronger and better supplied forces to attacks
upon Carthage itself. In 204 B.C. Hannibal was recalled, and in 202 B.C. he was
decisively defeated by the Roman general Scipo Africanus—no mean commander
himself—at Zama near his North African home base.
Eventually,
under Roman pressure, the Carthaginians banished Hannibal, and the disgraced
general fled to Crete. There, the still enraged Romans pursued him, and rather
than become their prisoner, he took his own life.
Nonetheless,
Hannibal’s amazing, elephant-borne foray through the Alps still stands one of
the great masterpieces of logistic planning in military history.
Although it
took a century or so for them to get the hang of it, the Romans and their
generals certainly recognized the importance of supply and transport issues in
creating, governing, and maintaining a great empire. That Julius Caesar was a
great leader of men is well known. What is less well known is that he was also,
like Alexander and Hannibal before him, a brilliant and able logistician.
“I would
prefer to conquer [my foe] by hunger rather than by steel,” Caesar once said.
The Roman displayed his logistical acumen during the civil war against Pompeii,
in which the cunning Pompeiians assayed the logistic-based strategy of starving
out Caesar’s army by firing the adjoining fields—the first known use of scorched
earth—and out of its blocking position atop the Ilerda plateau.
However, the
Roman general was prepared for such a contingency, having ensured that his men
already had plenteous rations before taking the heights. Instead of the Romans,
it was the Pompeiians who wound up starving. Counter-logistics, you might call
it.
Vegetius,
perhaps history’s first military theorist, placed considerable importance on
logistics in his writings, urging, in one of his influential tracts, that “young
soldiers must be given frequent practice in carrying loads of up to 60 pounds
and marching along at the military pace, for on strenuous campaigns they will be
faced with the necessity of carrying their rations as well as their arms.”
After
subsequent tests, the logistically minded Romans revised that figure somewhat,
concluding that the maximum optimal load for an individual infantrymen, or
legion, was actually a little more, 70 pounds, with half taken up by arms,
clothing, and equipment, and the other half by food. If rations were consumed
at the rate of three pounds a day, the army could march for 10 to 12 days before
having to refit at one of the capacious supply depots which the Roman Senate
wisely had installed every 16 miles.
Ultimately, of
course, beyond the considerable impact and influence of either Caesar’s
generalship or Vegetius’ writings on Rome’s military fortunes, Rome’s might was
based squarely on its army itself, the world’s first elite fighting force, whose
superior discipline and weapons were the envy of their adversaries. Legions
tended to be loyal to their own generals and this support gave popular generals
such as Caesar their real power. Power flowed from the bottom up.
Besides their
outstanding discipline and esprit de corps, and weapons, the Roman army had
something else their enemies were jealous of, and that was crucial to
maintaining Rome’s power: its far reaching, 10,000 mile network of
chariot-tested tough concrete roads. As one knowledgeable observer writes, “it
was Rome’s roads that made the legions who built them so effective an instrument
of imperial power.”
It was these,
history’s first highways, which enabled Roman commanders to calculate precise
marching times between military storehouses and barracks, and between the
outposts of its far flung empire. Thus, for example, they knew, because of
their roads, that the march from Rome to Brindisi, in order, to say, quell
unrest there, took precisely 15 days, while a march on Antioch, at the
aforementioned rates of marching and food consumption, would take no less—and no
more—than 124.
This was the
working calculus behind the Roman Empire.
That
was logistics.
By the same
token, once Rome’s magnificent roads were allowed to decay, strategic planning
was no longer possible. Nor was Rome.
Of course,
hubris had something to do with the inevitable decline of the Roman empire.
But so did
logistics.
——
As other
military historians have noted, the eight hundred or so years between the demise
of the Roman Empire and the beginning of the Renaissance did little to advance
the art of war, nor the art of military logistics. Nor were there any great
Western captains to speak of, with the possible exception of Charlemagne.
This lack of
enlightened military leadership, and of systematic logistics, was especially
evident in the numerous Crusades of the early centuries of the second
millennium. The ill-led, ill-supported Crusaders of the 11th and 12th
centuries who tried to wrest control of Palestine from the Saracens and their
Muslim brothers were often undermined and demoralized by their logistical
incompetence. Faith alone, the crusaders found was not sufficient to sustain
them during the successive thousand-mile military expeditions to the Holy Land.
If the
Crusaders failed to appreciate the back, or logistical, side of the battlefield,
their less starry-eyed enemies, especially the cunning Turks, did. In the first
successful use of scorched earth, the Turks effectively stymied the third
crusade, in 1078, by driving cattle off the Crusaders’ route as well as burning
grass and even whole villages. Unfortunately for the hapless Christians, their
otherwise fearless leader, Peter the Hermit, was no Caesar, who had earlier
outwitted the Pompeiians when they had tried this gambit.
The gambit
worked. The hungry crusaders became a disorganized rabble. End of crusade.
Logistics, or,
rather, the failure to give proper importance to logistics, in this case the
need for paying for sealift ability, directly influenced the course of the next,
fourth crusade in 1096. Unable to pay the money-minded Venetians for their
shipping, the rambunctious crusaders were persuaded by their leaders to sack the
Christian city of Constantinople, which did little to endear them to the local
populace.
——
Meanwhile,
from out of the East that redoubtable savage, and formidable commander, Genghis
Khan had appeared with his Mongolian hordes to rape, pillage, and conquer.
At first
blush, one would think that Genghis Khan would be the last one to give
considered thought to logistical matters.
Actually,
quite the opposite. Seen with the cold eye of history, Khan was not only a
brilliant tactician, cleverly separating his horsemen into tight columns before
simultaneously converging on the hapless enemy from various directions; he was
also a very able and resourceful logistician.
Ever keeping
the logistical bottom-line in mind, Khan instilled in his horsemen the
importance of living frugally, as well as moving frugally.
To help assure
the latter, the great Mongol had his mounted berserkers travel with three
horses, one as primary mount, one to draw milk from, and a spare, which could
also be eaten if necessary: logistics in motion.
Indeed, at
least one historian has called Khan “the ultimate logistician, insofar as he
pursued a deliberate strategy of killing civilians who were potential soldiers,
as well as [my italics] producers”—in short, literally decimating the
opposing national arsenal at its source.
The less
bodies an adversary had, the less of an army he could raise, no less support.
Crude, but, as
Khan’s successes against the various 12th century Western armies—and
peoples—armies who had the misfortune of falling under his ruthless gaze, it
worked.
In that
light, the great Mongolian also deserves his own, searing place in the military
logistical hall of fame.
In his own
memorable way, Khan had schematized his supply chain and managed it in an
expeditious, if brutal way. In a way, you could say, Khan did have a Tri-Level
view.
He just lacked
humanity.
Then again,
isn’t the same true of many contemporary CEOs? |
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Search this book:
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Damon Schechter
with
Gordon Sander, New York: John Wiley & Sons
Available November 2002
$29.95 US /
Cloth / 272 pp
ISBN: 0-4712-1114-1
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