To the Last Man - Jeff Shaara [148]
Pershing didn’t know what to say. “I believe my staff understands what is expected of them.”
Pétain made a soft laugh, pointed to a chair. “Would it be satisfactory to you if we sat? These boots are new, and my feet are not yet happy.”
Pershing moved to a chair, timed himself to sit as Pétain reached his own chair.
“I am wondering, General Pershing, if you require such rigidity from your soldiers as well?”
Feeling Pétain leading him in a particular direction, Pershing said, “I am happy to discuss with you any detail of our army, General Pétain.”
Pétain put up his hands, shook his head, laughed again. “I have had quite enough of this. My name is Henri. Am I correct that your name is John?”
Pershing smiled. “Indeed.”
“Then, John, while you are in my headquarters, and no one else is around, I will not refer to you by your rank. I intend that you and I shall work together, not as rivals, not as enemies. I admit that this has not often been the way. I do not place blame for that. I merely seek to eliminate one small obstacle between us. I fear that before long, we will experience a great deal more obstacles. Despite our best intentions.”
Pershing looked now at Pétain’s boots, saw they were not new at all. “Henri, you do not require an excuse to sit in my presence.”
Pétain looked at his boots, laughed. “As you wish. You were standing so straight, I thought perhaps you had some difficulty with your back. I did not want to make you uncomfortable, by making you . . . comfortable.”
Pershing was feeling more comfortable by the minute, glanced around the room, so many details he had seen before, the familiar signs of any headquarters, stacks of orders, dispatches, blank pads of paper, pencils scattered across every surface.
Pétain said, “So, what did the English tell you? Are you planning to join their army?”
“Not at all.”
“But they did expect that, eh?”
“There was some suggestion that the Americans would be well served by completing their training in England. I disagreed.”
“That is a positive sign, John. I do not always understand the English way. They are not the most convenient of allies. I am quite certain they say the same about us. It has been this way since the beginning.”
Pershing did not respond.
Pétain pointed to the map, said, “Should you wish any details explained to you, please inquire. Presently, there is little offensive activity. You have no doubt been told of the British success at Messines.”
“Yes.”
“Fine effort. I applaud them. For now, the Germans seem content to allow the English to keep their gains. It has not always been thus. I suspect the Germans understand that their loss was not as significant as the casualties they inflicted on the English. We have too often measured success in kilometers. As this war has lasted for so long, the greatest victory is now in the death of your enemy. Kill more of him than he kills of you. All sides in this war are running out of men. Field Marshal Haig does not seem to agree with this. He is entitled to claim victory at Messines. But the Germans are not so likely to allow it to happen again.”
“I have not yet made Marshal Haig’s acquaintance.”
“No? In time. He has a great many difficulties before him. There is a great difference between London and Paris. Paris has been properly frightened by the possibility of German boots marching down the avenues. London has no such fear. The civilian government there still believes it knows what is best for its army. I assume you were introduced to the prime minister?”
“Yes. We met at some length.”
“What do you think of him?”
Pétain had a smile, and Pershing felt a stab of caution. “He has ideas that . . . I found him not to be so flexible.”
Pétain laughed. “Nicely stated, John. Practicing your diplomacy. Mr. Lloyd George despises his commanding general, and Marshal Haig feels the same way about his prime minister. It is not a good means of managing a war. I believe that London is allowing Marshal Haig only the freedom to carry his army . . . no . . . there