To the Last Man - Jeff Shaara [141]
Pershing had seen the morning newspapers, broad bold headlines, reports of a major British success in Flanders. He knew better than to accept the newspaper’s word as gospel, waited for Robertson to expand on his joviality.
“You could hear the blasts right here, right in this office. The whole damned place shook to bits. Blew the damned Jerries sky high, they did! We had our eye on Messines Ridge for months. Damned nuisance, that. Gave the Jerries the high ground from Armentières all the way to Ypres. We lost so damned many fine men trying to take the damned thing, so Doug agrees to a new idea. If we can’t knock the Jerries off the damned ridge, we’ll knock the damned ridge out from under them. Took the engineers months to finish the job, but we dug mines all under the Jerry trenches. Nineteen of the damned things were rigged to blow at the same time. Rattled my damned teeth when they went up too, right here in this office! Punched out gaping holes all along the Jerry position. General Plumer led the attack, and the Jerries were so stunned, Plumer just waltzed right over and scooped ’em up! We’re still pushing, got the Jerries backing up all along the line. I expect to hear the word any time now that Messines is completely in our hands. Glad you could be here for this one, General. Give you a taste what’s to come.”
Robertson moved to a map on the wall, pointed, and Pershing moved close, saw a long arc, red pins marking the position of the mines. He could not help thinking of Ulysses Grant, commanding the engineering marvel of its time, a mine that union engineers tunneled under Lee’s troops, near Petersburg, Virginia. That was 1864, and it was only one mine, but the result had been a catastrophic blast that killed scores of rebel soldiers, opening a gaping hole in the Confederate defenses. He scanned Robertson’s map, thought, Nineteen mines. How many tons of explosives must they have used, better explosives too, nothing like the simple gunpowder Grant had to rely on. Robertson moved away, and Pershing studied the map for a few moments. Robertson said, “Some of our best troops took part in that, General. Not just the English, either. You know about the Anzacs?”
Pershing returned to the chair, said, “Certainly. Australians and New Zealanders. From what I’ve heard, they’ve equipped themselves well since the start of the war.”
“As I said, General, some of our best troops. They’d have taken Gallipoli if they’d been allowed to fight. Damned shame, that. Failure of leadership. But that’s history, and it won’t happen again. Douglas Haig is righting the ship, General. These are critical days for us. Since the Nivelle disaster, it’s up to us to turn the tide. Let me paint a picture for you, General. This war has moved forward into something no one could ever predict. Our command’s moved along with it. The British army in the field right now consists not just of British soldiers. Besides the Anzacs there are Canadians, territorial troops from India. Imagine, General, what Jerry will say when he sees Americans as well. The symbolism alone brings a tear. All parts of the British Empire united in one cause, all of civilization rallying to defeat the kaiser and his evil scourge. Once your troops arrive in sufficient force to reach their intended place on the line, this war will come to a rapid conclusion. The triumph at Messines, and your arrival here. No coincidence, I think, General. We speak the same language, come from the same roots. It must be inspiring to you, eh?”
Pershing felt crushed into his chair. Our intended place in the line? Intended by whom? “Congratulations on your apparent success at Messines, General. From everything you say, it seems as though Marshal Haig has opened up a much-needed breakthrough. I’m sure this will be gratifying to the French as well.”
Robertson seemed to deflate. “The French? General Pershing, with all respects, the French had nothing to do with this. The French have shown us that they cannot face any more adversity