To the Last Man - Jeff Shaara [128]
With Harbord’s assistance, Pershing worked his way through the process of assembling his full staff. To Pershing’s surprise, the tasks laid before him required the services of nearly one hundred sixty officers and enlisted men, as well as a number of civilian assistants. To build an army, he first had to build a headquarters.
WASHINGTON, D.C.—MAY 27, 1917
In the military operations against the Imperial German Government, you are directed to cooperate with the forces of the other countries employed against that enemy; but in doing so the underlying idea must be kept in view that the forces of the United States are a separate and distinct component of the combined forces, the identity of which must be preserved.
The official orders had finally come, and Pershing read each paragraph with increasing delight. Baker had been true to his word. The command was Pershing’s alone, and according to every clause in the lengthy document, once he was in France, it would be the civilian government’s job to support his decisions.
Baker had summoned him again, the visits becoming routine now, discussions that Pershing was relieved to find had been as much for Baker’s benefit as his own. If there had been dissent at the War Department over Pershing’s authority, the voices continued to be muted, and Pershing could already see the wheels of change taking place there as well. Hugh Scott had scheduled his retirement for September, and already, Scott’s duties as chief of staff were being handled by his immediate subordinate, Major General Tasker Bliss. Pershing had no quarrel with Bliss, knew that Baker was far more comfortable with Bliss than he had been with Hugh Scott. The only disadvantage Pershing could see was that Bliss was elderly, nearly as old as Scott, and speculation was already filtering around the War Department that Bliss might soon retire as well. Ultimately, the man occupying the office was not as important to Pershing as long as the chief of staff understood that, in Europe, Pershing was in charge.
PERSHING STEPPED BRISKLY TOWARD BAKER’S OFFICE, PASSED BY OFFICERS and civilians who moved at the same pace as he did. It was a subtle change in the atmosphere of the place, and Pershing had no idea if the sudden flood of energy was inspired by him or something Baker had imparted to his staff. He rounded a corner, saw a small crowd of men in Baker’s outer office. There were civilians and uniforms as well, different, a distinctive blue: French. They noticed him as well now, and Pershing made a short bow, backed away, made room in the entranceway, said, “Excuse me. I did not intend to interrupt.”
He heard Baker’s voice now, the small man hidden by the entourage. “Ah! General! The perfect moment.”
Baker emerged from the crowd, and Pershing saw an older man behind him, large and round, his thick face dressed by a bushy white moustache. The man stepped up beside Baker, dwarfing him, and Baker said, “Marshal Joseph Joffre, please allow me to introduce Major General John Pershing.”
Pershing felt a shock, had not expected to meet a man with the stature of Joffre. The large man extended a thick heavy hand. “Oh, yes. General Pershing. I am delighted.”
Pershing took the hand, studied the old man’s face, saw deep tired eyes, a fragile smile.
“Marshal Joffre, it is my honor, sir.”
Joffre turned to Baker, said, “This is quite fortunate. May I have a word with the general? Is it . . . appropriate?”
Baker nodded, said, “Certainly. We can return to my office.”
Joffre said