Terrain

G round comes in six kinds. Open ground. Snagging ground. Standoff ground. Narrow passes. Steep heights. Distant ground. Learn to read which one you stand on, because the ground decides the fight before the fight begins. Sun Tzu said: Terrain may be of six kinds — accessible, entangling, deadlocked, narrow, steep, and far. There is ground both sides can move across freely; ground easy to enter but hard to leave; ground where neither side gains by moving first; narrow passes; precipitous heights; and ground far from the enemy.

On open ground, where both of you can come and go, take the high sunny side first and keep your supply line clear. Then you fight from strength. On snagging ground — easy to enter, hard to back out of — strike only if the enemy is unready. If he is ready and you fail, you cannot pull free, and that costs you. On accessible ground, where you can advance and he can come to you, the side that first holds the high, sunlit position and keeps its supply roads open will fight to advantage. On entangling ground, easy to leave but hard to return to, you may sally out and beat an unprepared enemy; but if he is prepared and you fail, you cannot get back, and it goes badly.

On standoff ground, where neither of you gains by moving first, do not move first — even if the enemy dangles bait. Pull back. Draw him out. When half his force has committed and the rest has not, hit him then. On deadlocked ground, where neither side profits by advancing, do not go out even if the enemy offers you an opening; withdraw and draw him after you, and when half his army has come out, strike.

“An army does not break by accident. Flight, slackness, collapse, ruin, disorder, rout — none of these is bad luck. Each one is the general's fault.”

Hold a narrow pass before he does, and pack it with men to meet him. If he holds it first and packs it, leave him be; if he holds it but leaves it thin, go in. On steep heights, get there first and take the high sunny side and wait. If he is there first, pull back — do not climb after him. On narrow ground, occupy it first and fill it to wait for the enemy. If he holds it first and fills it, do not follow; if he holds it but has not filled it, then follow. On steep ground, hold the high sunlit side first and wait for him. If he holds it first, withdraw and do not pursue.

On distant ground, when your strength and his are even, it is hard to force a fight, and fighting gains you nothing. These six are the way of the ground itself. Studying them is the commander's highest duty. Do not neglect it. On far ground, when the two forces are equal in strength, it is hard to provoke battle, and to fight is unprofitable. These six are the principles of terrain. To grasp them is the general's highest responsibility, and must be studied closely.

Now turn the knife inward. An army can break in six ways, and not one of them is heaven's doing or the enemy's. Each is the general's own fault: flight, slackness, collapse, caving in, disorder, and rout. So an army may suffer flight, slackness, collapse, ruin, disorder, or rout. These six are not disasters sent by Heaven and Earth; they are the general's failings.

Throw one against ten when the odds are even, and you get flight. Strong troops, weak officers — slackness. Strong officers, weak troops — collapse. Senior officers who rage and will not obey, who meet the enemy on their own grudge before the general knows what they can do — that is an army caving in. A general who is weak and slack, whose training is muddled, whose ranks have no order — that is disorder. A general who misreads the enemy, throws small numbers against large, weak against strong, with no picked vanguard — that is rout. These six are the roads to defeat, and studying them is the commander's highest duty. When the odds are even and one is hurled against ten, the result is flight. When the troops are strong but the officers weak, slackness. When the officers are strong but the troops weak, collapse. When senior officers are angry and unruly, and on meeting the enemy fight on their own resentment before the general has measured their worth, the army caves in. When the general is weak and lax, his instructions unclear, his officers and men without fixed duties, and his ranks drawn up at random, there is disorder. When the general cannot gauge the enemy, pits a small force against a large, the weak against the strong, and fields no picked troops, there is rout. These six are the roads to defeat, and to grasp them is the general's highest responsibility, which must be studied closely.

Terrain is your ally. But reading the enemy, engineering the win, weighing the dangers and the distances — that is the work of a great commander. Master it and fight, and you win. Fight without it, and you lose. The lie of the land is the soldier's ally. But to read the enemy, to command victory, to reckon the hazards, the narrow places, and the distances — this is the art of the superior general. He who knows this and fights with it will surely win; he who does not, will surely lose.

So: when the logic of the fight says you win, fight — even if the ruler says stand down. When it says you lose, hold — even if the ruler orders the attack. Advance without hunting for glory, pull back without dodging the blame. Guard only the men and serve the state. A commander like that is the kingdom's treasure. If the way of the fight assures victory, you must fight, though the sovereign forbid it; if it does not, you must not fight, though the sovereign command it. The general who advances without seeking renown and retreats without shirking blame, whose one thought is to shield the people and serve his ruler, is the treasure of the state.

Treat your troops as your own infants, and they will go with you into the deepest valley. Treat them as your own beloved sons, and they will stand by you to the death. But indulge them and you cannot use them; love them and you cannot give them orders; let them run wild and you cannot keep order — and then they are spoiled children, no use to anyone. Regard your soldiers as your infants, and they will follow you into the deepest gorges; regard them as your own beloved sons, and they will die at your side. But if you are generous and cannot command them, kind and cannot order them, and let disorder go uncorrected, they are like spoiled children — of no use at all.

Know your own men are fit to strike but not that the enemy cannot be struck — and you are halfway to a win. Know the enemy is open but not that your own men are unfit — halfway again. Know both, and still not know the ground is wrong for fighting — still only halfway. So a soldier who truly knows war moves without confusion and acts without running dry. Know the enemy, know yourself, and victory is not in doubt; know the ground and the weather, and your victory can be made whole. To know your troops can strike but not that the enemy is unassailable is half a victory. To know the enemy is open to attack but not that your own troops cannot strike is half a victory. To know both, but not that the terrain is unfit for battle, is still half a victory. So one who truly knows war moves without bewilderment and acts without exhausting his resources. Hence: know the enemy and know yourself, and your victory is not in doubt; know Heaven and know Earth, and your victory may be made complete.

地形 The original Chinese · honored as an artifact

孫子曰：地形有通者，有挂者，有支者，有隘者，有險者，有遠者。

Opening lines, classical Chinese · The Art of War 孫子兵法