To the Last Man - Jeff Shaara [308]
HE HAD TRAVELED ALMOST DAILY, FROM FOCH TO PÉTAIN TO HAIG, to most of the corps headquarters of the AEF’s constantly evolving command structure. As Pershing predicted, the pressure from the British continued for the American divisions in the British sector to remain where they were. The hints were both subtle and obvious. In the North, Pershing enjoyed a chance meeting with King George, the British monarch once again offering Pershing kind words of friendship, reminders of the kinship between the two English-speaking nations, and the fervent hope that Pershing would still combine his army with the British. The cables flowed out from Lloyd George as well, but more carefully now, the prime minister making sure that Pershing was allowed to read and respond to any correspondence that was intended eventually to reach Washington. Though the substance of the requests had not changed, the style had, and Pershing realized that with Haig’s enormous success, the pressure on the American divisions to serve as the British reserve might finally be silenced.
LIGNY-EN-BARROIS, FRANCE—AUGUST 30, 1918
Pershing had moved the headquarters again, closer still to the St. Mihiel salient. He was waiting for Foch, sat at his desk, across from two of his staff officers, read through the draft of his General Order 143.
“Yes. This is exceptional. A few changes, but overall, the message is clear. I want this read to the First and Third Corps as soon as their camps are assembled.” He read again, ran his finger over the line slowly: “It fills me with pride to record in the General Orders a tribute to the service and achievements of the First and Third Corps, comprising the 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 26th, 28th, 32nd, and 42nd Divisions of the American Expeditionary Forces. . . .”
He folded the paper, handed it to Carl Boyd, said, “Colonel, I wish I had the opportunity to recite this personally. Be sure this reaches the press. I want the American people to know that this command understands what their soldiers are accomplishing here.”
“Yes, sir.”
There was a knock at the open door, and Pershing looked up, saw the young Lieutenant Gray.
“Sir, Marshal Foch has arrived. He is accompanied by General Weygand. As you instructed, I have directed him to the meeting room.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant. I’ll be right there.”
Pershing moved quickly, was out into the narrow hallway, turned into the larger meeting room. He saw Foch, at the far end of the long table, staring down at the enormous map, Weygand standing off to one side. Pershing’s own staff officers followed him, took their accustomed seats.
Foch said, “The rains are coming, you know. Marshal Haig is quite anxious that we make the best effort we can, all along the front. He feels the enemy is in a state of collapse, and has informed me of entreaties received in London. It seems the Germans are speaking of peace.”
Pershing moved up to the opposite end of the table, said, “We cannot lose sight of our objectives. Of course there is talk of peace. The Germans were only too happy to encourage that kind of talk when it serves their cause. If we allow our plans to be delayed, there is some hope from the pacifist element that Ludendorff will simply call off the fighting.”
“I quite agree with you, General. But there are civilians who see any talk of peace as a positive thing.”
“The only peace we shall reach is one where the enemy is beaten.”
“Forgive me, General, but those words are easily spoken by someone whose home is elsewhere. It is difficult for the French people to ignore the hope that somehow the devastation of their country might soon be stopped.”
Pershing was growing uncomfortable now, watched Foch studying the map, the old man never once looking at him. “If we do not defeat the Germans now, the French people will enjoy only a temporary rest. Surely you must know that.”
“As I said, General, I agree with you. It is perhaps why we must adopt a strategy that offers us the best hope of a rapid end to this war. Marshal Haig has suggested a large-scale offensive,