To the Last Man - Jeff Shaara [277]
Pershing absorbed Clemenceau’s frankness, could not avoid the question. “Then, what of France, sir?”
“Ah, General! Yes! We will rise again to our proper place of leadership in Europe. It is the inevitability of history.”
Pershing had no response, thought, Perhaps Germany would not agree.
Clemenceau continued, “Paris has been spared yet again, General. We owe much of that to you, of course.”
The acknowledgment seemed to drop from Clemenceau like an afterthought, and Pershing clenched his jaw, said, “Thank you, Monsieur Prime Minister.”
“But even if Paris was to fall, it would not matter. The French people understand that above Paris is France. And above France is all of civilization. Even the Germans know this. That is why they hate us so. They cannot escape the savagery of their race. We will always be above them.”
Pershing did not respond, and Clemenceau leaned close to him, said, “I admire your country as well, General. It is a wonderful land, with unlimited possibilities.”
There was no enthusiasm in Clemenceau’s words, and Pershing stared out the window, said, “How very kind of you, sir.”
FRENCH ARMY HEADQUARTERS—BOMBON
“We will solidify our position. The enemy has been held in check. The surprise that gave them such success has now been erased.” Foch looked at Pershing now, made a short bow. “We owe a debt to your army, General. You know my feelings on the matter. Paris has been saved. All of France is grateful.”
Pershing returned the bow, Foch’s reference not slipping past him. Your army.
“Thank you, General Foch. Have you given thought to my proposal for a counteroffensive?”
Foch turned to the map on the wall, said, “I have given instructions that a study be made, an examination of our available intelligence as to the enemy strength in each of these sectors. In time, as additional American divisions are made available, a counteroffensive could be practical.”
Pershing glanced at Pétain, saw the same dead stare he had seen too often on the general’s face. It was no secret that Pétain was not comfortable with Foch’s authority, the former subordinate to Pétain now the senior. But Pershing was troubled by Pétain’s apparent hopelessness, something the other commanders had observed as well. Pershing could feel the old familiar frustrations brewing, looked at the map now, said, “General Foch, I believed you and I were in agreement. Do you accept my plan to organize the various American divisions along the Marne?”
“Certainly, General. Those divisions are to constitute your First Corps, yes?”
“Yes, the First, Second, Twenty-sixth, Forty-second, and, as they become available, the Forty-first Divisions are now organized with command of the corps assigned to General Liggett. My point, sir, is that these divisions are either battle-tested or prepared as well as I could expect. The First Corps is in place, along a front that offers us an opportunity that may not present itself if we delay.”
Foch stared at the map, said nothing. Pershing moved forward now, pointed at the map.
“Right here. The St. Mihiel salient. The enemy has provided us with a weakness in their lines, for which we should be grateful. But it is of no use to us if we do not act.”
He struggled to keep some kind of calm in his voice, had learned already that Foch could not be pushed. “General Foch, your government has pressed my command for many months, urging us to provide assistance. In the past month, we have done so.”
Foch looked at him, said, “Quite so. I have acknowledged your contribution. Do you require me to repeat what you have already heard? It is no source of pride to any of us, General, that the French divisions along the Marne were not capable of holding the enemy back. That must be extremely gratifying to you, and to your government. Must I continue to acknowledge that? We are grateful to you. We shall always be grateful to you.”
Foch was close to him, leaning