The Other Teddy Roosevelts (21 page)

“But—”

“That’s an order,” said Roosevelt firmly.

“Will you at least take along a squad of sharpshooters, Colonel?” persisted McCoy.

“Frank, we’re forty miles behind the front, and I’m just going to talk to Pershing, not shoot him.”

“We don’t even know where the front
is
,” said McCoy.

“It’s where we’re
not
,” said Roosevelt grimly. “And that’s what I’m going to change.”

He left the mess tent without another word.

***

The first four French villages they passed were deserted, and consisted of nothing but the burnt skeletons of houses and shops. The fifth had two buildings still standing—a manor house and a church—and they had been turned into allied hospitals. Soldiers with missing limbs, soldiers with faces swathed by filthy bandages, soldiers with gaping holes in their bodies lay on cots and floors, shivering in the cold damp air, while an undermanned and harassed medical team did its best to keep them alive.

Roosevelt stopped long enough to determine General Pershing’s whereabouts, then walked among the wounded to offer words of encouragement while trying to ignore the unmistakable stench of gangrene and the stinging scent of disinfectant. Finally he remounted his horse and joined his two trackers.

They passed a number of corpses on their way to the front. Most had been plundered of their weapons, and one, laying upon its back, displayed a gruesome, toothless smile.

“Shameful!” muttered Roosevelt as he looked down at the grinning body.

“Why?” asked Runs With Deer.

“It’s obvious that the man had gold teeth, and they have been removed.”

“It is honorable to take trophies of the enemy,” asserted the Indian.

“The Germans have never advanced this far south,” said Roosevelt.“This man’s teeth were taken by his companions.” He shook his head. “Shameful!”

Matupu the Maasai merely shrugged. “Perhaps this is not an honorable war.”

“We are fighting for an honorable principle,” stated Roosevelt. “That makes it an honorable war.”

“Then it is an honorable war being waged by dishonorable men,” said Matupu.

“Do the Maasai not take trophies?” asked Runs With Deer.

“We take cows and goats and women,” answered Matupu. “We do not plunder the dead.” He paused. “We do not take scalps.”

“There was a time when
we
did not, either,” said Runs With Deer. “We were taught to, by the French.”

“And we are in France now,” said Matupu with some satisfaction, as if everything now made sense to him.

They dismounted after two more hours and walked their horses for the rest of the day, then spent the night in a bombed-out farmhouse. The next morning they were mounted and riding again, and they came to General Pershing’s field headquarters just before noon. There were thousands of soldiers bustling about, couriers bringing in hourly reports from the trenches, weapons and tanks being dispatched, convoys of trucks filled with food and water slowly working their way into supply lines.

Roosevelt was stopped a few yards into the camp by a young lieutenant.

“May I ask your business here, sir?”

“I’m here to see General Pershing,” answered Roosevelt.

“Just like that?” said the soldier with a smile.

“Son,” said Roosevelt, taking off his hat and leaning over the lieutenant, “take a good look at my face.” He paused for a moment. “Now go tell General Pershing that Colonel Roosevelt is here to see him.”

The lieutenant’s eyes widened. “By God, you
are
Teddy Roosevelt!” he exclaimed. Suddenly he reached his hand out. “May I shake your hand first, Mr. President? I just want to be able to tell my parents I did it.”

Roosevelt grinned and took the young man’s hand in his own, then waited astride his horse while the lieutenant went off to Pershing’s quarters. He gazed around the camp: there were ramshackle buildings and ramshackle soldiers, each of which had seen too much action and too little glory. The men’s faces were haggard, their eyes haunted, their bodies stooped with exhaustion. The main paths through the camp had turned to mud, and the constant drizzle brought rust, rot, and disease with an equal lack of Cosmic concern.

The lieutenant approached Roosevelt, his feet sinking inches into the mud with each step.

“If you’ll follow me, Mr. President, he’ll see you immediately.”

“Thank you,” said Roosevelt.

“Watch yourself, Mr. President,” said the lieutenant as Roosevelt dismounted. “I have a feeling he’s not happy about meeting with you.”

“He’ll be a damned sight less happy when I’m through with him,” said Roosevelt firmly. He turned to his companions. “See to the needs of the horses.”

“Yes, sir,” said Runs With Deer. “We’ll be waiting for you right here.”

“How is the battle going?” Roosevelt asked as he and the lieutenant began walking through the mud toward Pershing’s quarters. “My Rough Riders have been practically incommunicado since we arrived.”

The lieutenant shrugged. “Who knows? All we hear are rumors. The enemy is retreating, the enemy is advancing, we’ve killed thousands of them, they’ve killed thousands of us. Maybe the General will tell you; he certainly hasn’t seen fit to tell
us
.”

They reached the entrance to Pershing’s quarters.

“I’ll wait here for you, sir,” said the lieutenant.

“You’re sure you don’t mind?” asked Roosevelt. “You can find some orderly to escort me back if it will be a problem.”

“No, sir,” said the young man earnestly. “It’ll be an honor, Mr. President.”

“Well, thank you, son,” said Roosevelt. He shook the lieutenant’s hand again, then walked through the doorway and found himself facing General John J. Pershing.

“Good afternoon, Jack,” said Roosevelt, extending his hand.

Pershing looked at Roosevelt’s outstretched hand for a moment, then took it.

“Have a seat, Mr. President,” he said, indicating a chair.

“Thank you,” said Roosevelt, pulling up a chair as Pershing seated himself behind a desk that was covered with maps.

“I mean no disrespect, Mr. President,” said Pershing, “but exactly who gave you permission to leave your troops and come here?”

“No one,” answered Roosevelt.

“Then why did you do it?” asked Pershing. “I’m told you were accompanied only by a red Indian and a black savage. That’s hardly a safe way to travel in a war zone.”

“I came here to find out why you have consistently refused my requests to have my Rough Riders moved to the front.”

Pershing lit a cigar and offered one to Roosevelt, who refused it.

“There are proper channels for such a request,” said the general at last. “You yourself helped create them.”

“And I have been using them for almost two months, to no avail.”

Pershing sighed. “I
have
been a little busy conducting this damned war.”

“I’m sure you have,” said Roosevelt. “And I have assembled a regiment of the finest fighting men to be found in America, which I am placing at your disposal.”

“For which I thank you, Mr. President.”

“I don’t want you to thank me!” snapped Roosevelt. “I want you to unleash me!”

“When the time is right, your Rough Riders will be brought into the conflict,” said Pershing.

“When the time is right?” repeated Roosevelt. “Your men are dying like flies! Every village I’ve passed has become a bombed-out ghost town! You needed us two months ago, Jack!”

“Mr. President, I’ve got half a million men to maneuver. I’ll decide when and where I need your regiment.”

“When?” persisted Roosevelt.

“You’ll be the first to know.”

“That’s not good enough!”

“It will have to be.”

“You listen to me, Jack Pershing!” said Roosevelt heatedly. “I
made
you a general! I think the very least you owe me is an answer. When will my men be brought into the conflict?”

Pershing stared at him from beneath shaggy black eyebrows for a long moment. “What the hell did you have to come here for, anyway?” he said at last.

“I told you: to get an answer.”

“I don’t mean to my headquarters,” said Pershing. “I mean, what is a 58-year-old man with a blind eye and a game leg doing in the middle of a war?”

“This is the greatest conflict in history, and it’s being fought over principles that every free man holds dear. How could I not take part in it?”

“You could have just stayed home and made speeches and raised funds.”

“And you could have retired after Mexico and spent the rest of your life playing golf,” Roosevelt shot back. “But you didn’t, and I didn’t, because neither of us is that kind of man. Damn it, Jack—I’ve assembled a regiment the likes of which hasn’t been seen in almost 20 years, and if you’ve any sense at all, you’ll make use of us. Our horses and our training give us an enormous advantage on this terrain. We can mobilize and strike at the enemy as easily as this fellow Lawrence seems to be doing in the Arabian desert.”

Pershing stared at him for a long moment, then sighed deeply.

“I can’t do it, Mr. President,” said Pershing.

“Why not?” demanded Roosevelt.

“The truth? Because of you, sir.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’ve made my position damnably awkward,” said Pershing bitterly. “You are an authentic American hero, possibly the first one since Abraham Lincoln. You are as close to being worshipped as a man can be.” He paused. “You’re a goddamned icon, Mr. Roosevelt.”

“What has
that
got to do with anything?”

“I am under direct orders not to allow you to participate in any action that might result in your death.” He glared at Roosevelt across the desk. “
Now
do you understand? If I move you to the front, I’ll have to surround you with at least three divisions to make sure nothing happens to you—and I’m in no position to spare that many men.”

“Who issued that order, Jack?”

“My Commander-in-Chief.”

“Woodrow Wilson?”

“That’s right. And I’d no more disobey him than I would disobey you if you still held that office.” He paused, then spoke again more gently. “You’re an old man, sir. Not old by your standards, but too damned old to be leading charges against the Germans. You should be home writing your memoirs and giving speeches and rallying the people to our cause, Mr. President.”

“I’m not ready to retire to Hyde Park and have my face carved on Mount Rushmore yet,” said Roosevelt. “There are battles to be fought and a war to be won.”

“Not by you, Mr. President,” answered Pershing. “When the enemy is beaten and on the run, I’ll bring your regiment up. The press can go crazy photographing you chasing the few German stragglers back to Berlin. But I cannot and will not disobey a direct order from my Commander-in-Chief. Until I can guarantee your safety, you’ll stay where you are.”

“I see,” said Roosevelt, after a moment’s silence. “And what if I relinquish my command? Will you utilize my Rough Riders then?”

Pershing shook his head. “I have no use for a bunch of tennis players and college professors who think they can storm across the trenches on their polo ponies,” he said firmly. “The only men you have with battle experience are as old as you are.” He paused. “Your regiment might be effective if the Apaches ever leave the reservation, but they are ill-prepared for a modern, mechanized war. I hate to be so blunt, but it’s the truth, sir.”

“You’re making a huge mistake, Jack.”

“You’re the one who made the mistake, sir, by coming here. It’s my job to see that you don’t die because of it.”

“Damn it, Jack, we could make a difference!”

Pershing paused and stared, not without sympathy, at Roosevelt. “War has changed, Mr. President,” he said at last. “No one regiment can make a difference any longer. It’s been a long time since Achilles fought Hector outside the walls of Troy.”

An orderly entered with a dispatch, and Pershing immediately read and initialed it.

“I don’t mean to rush you, sir,” he said, getting to his feet, “but I have an urgent meeting to attend.”

Roosevelt stood up. “I’m sorry to have bothered you, General.”

“I’m still Jack to you, Mr. President,” said Pershing. “And it’s as your friend Jack that I want to give you one final word of advice.”

“Yes?”

“Please, for your own sake and the sake of your men, don’t do anything rash.”

“Why would I do something rash?” asked Roosevelt innocently.

“Because you wouldn’t be Teddy Roosevelt if the thought of ignoring your orders hadn’t already crossed your mind,” said Pershing.

Roosevelt fought back a grin, shook Pershing’s hand, and left without saying another word. The young lieutenant was just outside the door, and escorted him back to where Runs With Deer and Matupu were waiting with the horses.

“Bad news?” asked Runs With Deer, as he studied Roosevelt’s face.

“No worse than I had expected.”

“Where do we go now?” asked the Indian.

“Back to camp,” said Roosevelt firmly. “There’s a war to be won, and no college professor from New Jersey is going to keep me from helping to win it!”

***

“Well, that’s the story,” said Roosevelt to his assembled officers, after he had laid out the situation to them in the large tent he had reserved for strategy sessions. “Even if I resign my commission and return to America, there is no way that General Pershing will allow you to see any action.”

“I knew Black Jack Pershing when he was just a captain,” growled Buck O’Neill, one of the original Rough Riders. “Just who the hell does he think he is?”

“He’s the supreme commander of the American forces,” answered Roosevelt wryly.

“What are we going to do, sir?” asked McCoy. “Surely you don’t plan to just sit back here and then let Pershing move us up when all the fighting’s done with?”

“No, I don’t,” said Roosevelt.

“Let’s hear what you got to say, Teddy,” said O’Neill.

“The issues at stake in this war haven’t changed since I went to see the General,” answered Roosevelt. “I plan to harass and harry the enemy to the best of our ability. If need be we will live off the land while utilizing our superior mobility in a number of tactical strikes, and we will do our valiant best to bring this conflict to a successful conclusion.”