To the Last Man - Jeff Shaara [193]
From the construction of barracks for the troops, to the installation of telegraph poles, the Americans had need of enormous supplies of lumber, which the French reluctantly agreed to supply. Pershing recruited Henry Graves, the chief of the Unites States Forestry Service, to assemble a massive team of loggers and sawmill operators. As the civilian workers came ashore, the organization came together, and within a few short months, the American specialists had put into operation a system designed to transport and house as many troops as Pershing could eventually put into the field. Despite the occasional roadblock put before them by various French bureaucrats, the French government and Pétain’s headquarters began to understand why the presence of the Americans was so critical. The French had exhausted their labor force as well as their army, and could never have expanded their decaying efforts that barely provided for the basic needs of their own troops. Pershing’s rapidly expanding organization was affecting the morale of the French people in ways that even their government did not expect. From the port at Nazaire, to the training facilities that spread inland through Paris, to Pershing’s headquarters at Chaumont, the people began to see past the celebrations and parades and began to realize what the presence of the Americans might truly mean.
PARIS—NOVEMBER 7, 1917
“The enemy is tottering! Have you seen the latest reports? Magnificent!”
The room was mostly silent, small voices in one corner. Haig seemed frustrated that his announcement had not brought a cheer. “Gentlemen, we have but one direction in which to advance: to the Rhine. Every indication is that the Hun is beaten, that his army has suffered far more than we have. I had hoped to find you in a mood of cooperation.”
Pershing glanced at the others, saw Pétain nodding politely, the other French commanders staring down silently.
Pétain said, “Very well, Marshal Haig. You should be congratulated on your success. May your soldiers have every piece of good fortune.”
Haig sniffed, said, “Thank you. However, I assure you, we make our own good fortune.” He looked at Pershing, said, “General, as this meeting seems concluded, I wonder if I might have a word. We so rarely have time for personal conversation.”
Pershing looked toward Pétain, saw no expression, watched as Pétain assisted his staff in gathering their notepads and books, the obvious sign that the French had nothing left to say. “Certainly, Marshal Haig.”
“Excellent. I’d fancy a cup of tea. Some lunch perhaps. You as well?”
Haig was already moving toward the door, and Pershing saw the two staffs pulling apart, nothing sociable between them, no parting words. The meeting had lasted for barely an hour, the American officers with Pershing playing little role.
Pershing said to Harbord, “Colonel, if you wish, you may return to the hotel. We should prepare to leave for Chaumont within the hour.”
Harbord seemed as weary as Pershing felt, had pulled his own notes together, the other officers gathering close. Harbord said, “Yes, sir. We shall wait for you at the hotel.”
The room was empty now except for the Americans, the French departing from a different entrance than the British. It was so completely normal for the meetings to conclude this way, that when the two high commands made the effort to discuss strategy, very little pleasantness flowed through the talk.
Harbord moved to the doorway Pétain had used, held it open, allowing the others to leave, then stopped, said, “General, what is the purpose of this?”
Pershing was surprised by Harbord’s question, was used to the man’s stoic silence, most of Harbord’s energy directed inward, the man commanding a brutal efficiency for the details of his