To the Last Man - Jeff Shaara [210]
In Washington, the position of chief of staff had gone to General Peyton March, who had served Pershing well as a forceful and no-nonsense chief of artillery instruction. Secretary Baker had asked Pershing for his recommendations, and though March had not been Pershing’s first choice, Baker had decided on March based on the man’s straight-ahead aggressive style. It was the one ingredient that both the War Department and the General Staff had been lacking. Pershing could only agree.
While the Supreme War Council had yet to intrude directly into military decision making, the quiet winter provided time for both the civilian and military leaders to feel their way through a process that was designed to improve cooperation among the armies, something that had rarely worked. Pétain, Haig, and Pershing each had absolute control over his own domain, and each man answered only to his civilian government. With Russia now completely out of the war, Germany was free to reinforce its strength all along the Western Front. Unless the allies found an efficient means to coordinate their three distinct armies, the German advantage could be overwhelming.
The French military representative to the Supreme War Council was General Ferdinand Foch, who had served both as a field commander and as Pétain’s chief of staff. At Foch’s insistence, the allies began to discuss the formation of a large general reserve, to be composed of divisions taken from both the British and French armies. The general reserve would act independently of Haig or Pétain, could be used to strengthen any part of the front that was under immediate threat. Though debate swirled around who might actually command this reserve, Clemenceau had pressed hard for the authority to go to the man who had done the most to design the concept in the first place: Ferdinand Foch. Though the new position would carry no real authority over the three commanding generals, to the civilian leaders, Foch’s plan was a monumentally positive step toward securing coordination along the entire front. Whether or not the generals would accept Foch’s efforts remained to be seen.
FRENCH GENERAL HEADQUARTERS,
COMPIèGNE, FRANCE—JANUARY 24, 1918
Pershing had sat quietly as each of the others stated his own position, so many of the speeches offering nothing more than what they had all heard before. Pétain had begun the meeting with a grim assessment of the condition and preparedness of his army, something he had frequently shared with Pershing. Pétain’s mood seemed to set the tone, and the entire group was subdued, even Haig and Wully Robertson forgoing their usual claims that great victories were just ahead. Haig in particular seemed to accept Pétain’s pessimistic appraisal, that neither army could withstand what would certainly be a major thrust by Ludendorff’s strengthening forces sometime in the spring.
Pershing had met Foch only briefly, but now he found himself hanging on the man’s words, an unusual experience. Foch was a diminutive man, slim and frail, showing every one of his sixty-six years. Pershing had heard speculation around Pétain’s headquarters that Foch was simply a man past his time, like so many of the aging generals. As Foch spoke, Pershing glanced at Pétain, could see that divisiveness plagued the French camp as well. Pétain had yet to agree with anything Foch had said.
Foch continued, “We must be prepared to launch an immediate counteroffensive, a rapid, powerful response to whatever assault the Germans send forth. It has been the only tactic that has yet been successful. We did not stop the enemy at Verdun by our defense. We stopped them by