To the Last Man - Jeff Shaara [80]
A guard opened the door at the far end of the car, and a captain appeared now, said, “Sir, the field marshal will be here momentarily.”
“Thank you. You may leave.”
“Sir.”
The door was pulled closed by the guard, the car quiet again. Ludendorff rose from the soft chair, a last glance outside, moved to the head of the table, sat. The door opened again, von Hindenburg moving past the guard, the old man pulling at his jacket.
“Thank you for your patience, General. I did not inquire, how much longer until we reach Kreuznach?”
“Three hours. We will be home well before midnight.”
“Beautiful country out there. Did you notice?”
“Yes. I should like to see more of it someday.”
Von Hindenburg nodded.
“I hope you can. I should like to show you some very scenic places. Someday, perhaps.”
It was the closest the two men came to idle conversation, and Ludendorff knew that von Hindenburg would not push it. Von Hindenburg was always sociable, one reason he was now a favorite of the kaiser. It was not always that way, the kaiser keeping distance between them, as though von Hindenburg’s popularity with the people was a potential threat. But Ludendorff saw nothing of a threat in the old man at all, knew that the gentle kindness opened doors and soothed tempers. Von Hindenburg could charm any audience, could disarm his rivals, the ambitious men of the German High Command who might hold dangerous jealousies. Whatever controversy had been stirred up by Ludendorff’s quick accumulation of power had been tempered by von Hindenburg’s unequivocal confidence in him. Ludendorff was not a man who made friends, and he appreciated the old man’s attempts to reach out to him. Whether or not they would ever visit Lorraine together was not important. Ludendorff knew it was von Hindenburg’s way of making Ludendorff comfortable, of encouraging the younger man to hold nothing back. Both men knew the importance of the other.
Von Hindenburg sat heavily at the far end of the table, said, “Do we require the presence of the aides?”
Ludendorff shook his head. “No, not yet.”
“All right. Tell me of your visit to Douaumont. Conclusions?”
“It is time to bring that disaster to an end. I believe we should order the cessation of all offensive activity, and fortify our position.”
Von Hindenburg nodded. “Yes. I cannot disagree. I am fairly certain the kaiser will have no objections.”
Ludendorff could not help the frown, and von Hindenburg laughed, surprising him.
“Come now, General, we must not object to His Imperial Majesty providing his input.”
“No, certainly not. I did not mean to suggest—”
Von Hindenburg held up his hand, stopped him.
“General, any decisions we make here are for the good of the army and the Fatherland. The kaiser is aware of that. He knows that our armies have been badly abused by the men he chose to manage his military affairs. By that experience alone, he must be made to feel comfortable with the decisions made by his generals. I depend on you to evaluate those decisions. The kaiser depends on me to tell him the decisions are the right ones.”
Ludendorff’s expression did not change, and von Hindenburg continued. “General, you must understand that royalty are like children. They awake each morning to birds singing and servants fluttering around them. Their milk is always cold, their bread is always warm, and their beefsteak is always tender. They do not live in a world of inconvenience, and since this war has become an inconvenience, someone must help them digest that. The kaiser wishes to believe that he controls fate, that his decisions are wise because he is born with the gift of wisdom. So many generals and politicians are men of clumsy ambition who believe they must impose their will on him, educate him, convince him of their wisdom. Such men do not survive under a monarchy for very long.”
Ludendorff thought of the kaiser, the unhidden hostility directed at Ludendorff every time