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In my words, "that in the profession of arms, historic evi-
dence indicates that the method of their employment is at
least as important to victory as their design, and that the
capstone of a mature officer's education should focus on
style rather than hardware." In Mahan's words, "the great
warrior must study history."

Mahan is not blindly dogmatic and he is openly distrustful
of simplistic historic analogies. But he nevertheless believes
that an educated man with sufficient classical background can
often perceive recognizable trends in events that occasionally
allow him "that quickness to seize the decisive features of a
situation and to apply at once the proper remedy--a stroke
which the French call coup d'oeil, a phrase for which I know
no English equivalent." He explains that what he speaks of
is a memory bank full of historic facts that, after a fashion,
form distinctive and educational patterns. Examples are facts
such as that in the late 18th Century, French armorers dis-
covered a method of casting cannon barrels that not only
improved their accuracy but made them much lighter. To the
pedestrian officer the latter advantage was a convenience.
But to the Corsican Corporal of Artillery with a sense of
history, and more than a little genius, the change portended
an entirely new and different utilization of the weapon. It
was not to be towed slowly across the plains by oxen, but
quickly across the Alps by horses. Forts were to be bypassed,
firepower concentrated. What was to the man on the street a
metallurgical event of convenience was to Napoleon a geopoliti-
cal event that led to the conquest of Europe. History is full
of similar examples. In our age, what was to us a nuclear
event was to Hyman Rickover quite a different thing.

Another of the timeless aspects of Mahan's lectures was
the clear evidence of the pressures and cross currents concern-
ing War College course content that he experienced even when
this school was in its infancy, the world's first War College.
Throughout his talks he's obsessed with the definitions of
practicality and theoreticalness. And he talks somewhat humor-
ously of his contacts with friends in Washington when they ask
him, as he steps out of the Army-Navy Club on a brisk evening,
"Are you going back to the War College?" "Do you expect to have
a session there?" "Yes," he answers. One of his senior friends
then sneers, "Are you going to do anything practical this time?"
Offended, Mahan replies with questions like "What do you mean
by practicality?" and so on and so forth. This theme is
woven throughout his lectures. The preoccupation is there,
and it is clear that he was under pressure. This pressure can
still be felt.

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