To the Last Man - Jeff Shaara [357]
TO THE EAST OF THE ARGONNE FOREST, PERSHING’S ARMY CONTINUED their unrelenting assault northward through the long-established German defenses. No fight was easy, no resistance passive, but as had happened at Blanc Mont Ridge, the Americans had the benefit of reinforcements, of reserves who could be shifted to the most dangerous fronts on the field. The cost to both sides had become appalling, and despite staggering losses to many of the American divisions, the toll inflicted on their German counterparts was far worse. With the French Fourth Army linked to the American left flank, the push continued, until, by October 16, the Argonne Forest was cleared of German troops. The fight now swung more to the northeast, the Germans gradually giving ground as the Allied divisions pressed them close to their last great defensive barrier along the Meuse River. As the generals worked to gather and reorganize their commands, the Second Division was reunited with Pershing’s First Army, was made ready yet again to confront an enemy now fighting for his very survival.
OCTOBER 24, 1918
With a view to avoiding further bloodshed, the German Government requests the immediate conclusion of an armistice. . . .
THE CABLE HAD BEEN SENT TO WASHINGTON ON OCTOBER 6, SIGNED by the new chancellor, Prince Max von Baden, the fourth man to hold that position in the last twelve months.
Von Hindenburg knew that the entire civilian government was poised to champion any overture that President Wilson was likely to make. Wilson was the logical choice to be the recipient of Germany’s request for a halt to the war, since the American president had long advocated a far more lenient peace than what France or England would certainly insist upon. It was the one belief that the German military shared with their civilian ministers. If the war was to be decided on the battlefield, no general, no matter what country he fought for, would be pleased with anything short of total surrender. It was simply their nature. But as harsh as the generals might be, the German government had to believe that both Clemenceau and Lloyd George would be equally as harsh. If Foch could secure victory on the battlefields, in both London and Paris, any talk of peace would include victory of another kind, absolute and devastating not only to Germany’s military, but to her government, her economy, and her people.
A peace overture had become inevitable with the collapse of Ludendorff’s spring offensives. Though German troops had occupied more French soil than at any time in the war, the army had been too exhausted to take full advantage of any major breakthrough. Worse, with the Americans now pouring into the front lines, Foch’s grand strategy had reclaimed nearly every swath of ground the Germans had captured that spring. With the success of the British assaults in August, Ludendorff had to concede that his great strategy had simply failed. Not only the army, but the nation that supported it was too exhausted, too drained of manpower and supplies to hold back what was becoming an inevitable collapse.
Von Hindenburg had stayed on his train, mostly immobile now, no place where he really needed to be. He had long accepted what everyone in the High Command knew, that Ludendorff was truly in command and that this fat old man was only the symbol of something that had once been, and now might never be again. Von Hindenburg knew they spoke of him that way, and it was not insulting, no great wound to his pride. The pride was all inside of Ludendorff, the perpetually