When we met at dinner, four days later, the true meaning of this letter was revealed. General Pershing explained that “his engagement of long standing to take a particular trip,” when translated, meant that General Petain had promised him to let him witness the battle at Verdun the first time active operations were resumed there. On the morning of our first appointment, General Petain had sent General Pershing word to come to Verdun at once, and Pershing had, of course, cancelled all conflicting engagements, and left for the front. He described to us what he had seen at Verdun, and spoke with the eloquence and enthusiasm of a boy who has just seen his first Big League game of baseball. Pershing gave us a vivid picture of a modern battle. He had accompanied General Petain to an observation dugout, where they could see the battle through the telescopes, as well as keep in touch with its multitudinous operations by telephone. The General in command of the division at this point was receiving messages from all parts of the battlefield, and transmitting them to Petain. Word would come that X had taken another hill, and Petain would tell him to hold it or to move on, making his decisions for the various parts of the battlefield in accordance with his general plan of military action.
General Pershing was especially interested in a double coincidence of this visit. The Division Commander in the dugout was General Gouraud. Oddly enough, General Gouraud had been the French military attaché in Tokio when Pershing was American attaché at the same point. In the dugout they fell to comparing notes on their experiences together in Japan in 1905. General Pershing recalled that one of their acquaintances there had been the German attaché, whom they had both detested. “By the way,” he inquired of Gouraud, “what has become of that little German, Von Etzel, that we used to know in Tokio?” “Come here,” Gouraud replied, “and look through this telescope. That is Von Etzel’s army retreating.”
Three days later, my eagerly anticipated trip to the British front was undertaken. Schmavonian again accompanied me. Lord Esher, who had arranged this trip for me on behalf of the British, introduced to me Captain Townroe of the British General Headquarters Staff, a fine, determined gentleman, who had been the private secretary of Lord Derby during the recruiting period in England and was the author of a popular play called “Nations at War.” General Pershing had kindly designated Captain Quekemeyer, then as now his personal aide, to accompany us as an American representative. They first escorted us to an old château occupying the land where the battle of Agincourt was fought. First we visited two American regiments of engineers. It was a great revelation to see how two or three West Point officers had been able to whip into perfect shape 1,200 civilians and out of them to create splendid regiments. General Biddle escorted me to their headquarters, and we reviewed the regiments. We then went to Roisel where we visited the 12th U. S. Engineers. They were just making camp. Their colonel apologized for the chaotic condition of affairs. I kept looking at him, thinking that I had met him before. At length I made a few inquiries of him as to his antecedents, and where I could have met him, when suddenly, having penetrated through the years
Mr. Morgenthau as one of the group of financiers, doctors, and sociologists who organized the international association of Red Cross societies at Cannes in 1919
which had left its marks upon him, it dawned upon me that this man, Colonel C. M. Townsend, was the same Townsend that had attended the College of the City of New York with me in 1870, and we had not seen each other once in the ensuing forty-seven years! This was one of the most remarkable feats that my memory ever surprised me with.
When we returned to the château that evening, our genial host, Colonel Roberts, introduced us to a number of British writers who had arrived that day. Lovat Fraser, then leading editor of the London Times; C. J. Beattie, the night editor of the Daily Mail; L. Cope Crawford, of the London Morning Post; H. B. Tourtel, of the Daily Express; Sydney Low, and a few others. After supper, we sat in the parlour in the old château, with its engravings by Wilkie on the walls, and the old furniture, etc., and were reminded that it was right on the battlefield of Agincourt. I listened to Sydney Low’s story of his writing “The Conquest of Attila,” who was assisted in his war by the Ostrogoths (Austrians) and opposed by the Franks, Visigoths, etc., and how Attila had said that God would help him to destroy the Christians, and he would be a scourge to them and sack their cities, or, as Low put it, “just like Emperor William, who told his army to act like the Huns, and they are doing it.”
Another evening, we had discussions with some of the British labour leaders, who had come over to visit the front under the direction of Mr. J. E. Baker of the Ministry of Munitions. They were amazed when I told them that it was ridiculous to think that democracy could be established in a few years. They were really surprised to think that twenty-five years was inadequate to reform the world.