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.”