General Pershing brought a clenched fist down on the table. Pens and ink stands jumped and rattled.
“I say that we have delayed long enough,” he declared. “What have we been doing to regain lost territory? Nothing. True, we’ve halted the enemy every time he struck, but we’ve not regained a mile of lost ground. I say it’s time to hit back.”
“If we only had the necessary numerical superiority,” said Marshal Haig.
“I tell you, sir,” said General Pershing, “that my men can stand up—yes, they can go through—the best the enemy has to offer. Their morale is the greatest of any army that ever existed. Order them to drive the enemy back, and they’ll drive him back. I know what I am talking about, sirs. Try them!”
Again there was silence in the room, broken at last by Marshal Foch.
“It is well,” he said, “for a general to have that confidence in his men; and I am sure that your men have every bit as much confidence in you. I am impressed with your words; and yet I am loath to act on your suggestion with untried troops. I have seen such troops in action—the Portuguese. The enemy scattered them like chaff before the wind.”
“My men are Americans, sir,” said General Pershing simply.
“Oh, I know the traditions of the American fighting man,” said Marshal Foch. “I know that the trained American soldier is the equal of any in the world. But still I hesitate. If I could only be sure that the enemy has exhausted himself in his latest offensive—if I only knew the disposition of his forces—then I might act. I have, of course, a general idea of the enemy’s activities, but not enough, I am afraid, in ordering a grand offensive, as you suggest.”
“I don’t care anything about the enemy’s positions,” declared General Pershing. “What I say is this: Order the Americans to break the German line and they’ll break it!”
Again Marshal Foch shook his head.