“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.”
He paused and looked around at his officers. “I realize that in doing this I am violating my orders, but there are greater principles at stake here. I am flattered that the President thinks I am indispensable to the American public, but our nation is based on the principle that no one man deserves any rights or privileges not offered to all men.” He took a deep breath and cleared his throat. “However, since I am contravening a direct order, I believe that not only each one of you, but every one of the men as well, should be given the opportunity to withdraw from the Rough Riders. I will force no man to ride against his conscience and his beliefs. I would like to you go out now and put the question to the men; I will wait here for your answer.”
To nobody’s great surprise, the regiment voted unanimously to ride to glory with Teddy Roosevelt.
3 August, 1917
My Dearest Edith:
As strange as this may seem to you (and is seems surpassingly strange to me), I will soon be a fugitive from justice, opposed not only by the German army but quite possibly by the U.S. military as well.
My Rough Riders have embarked upon a bold adventure, contrary to both the wishes and the direct orders of the President of the United States. When I think back to the day he finally approved my request to reassemble the regiment, I cringe with chagrin at my innocence and naivete; he sent us here only so that I would not have access to the press, and he would no longer have to listen to my demands. Far from being permitted to play a leading role in this noblest of battles, my men have been held far behind the front, and Jack Pershing was under orders from Wilson himself not to allow any harm to come to us.
When I learned of this, I put a proposition to my men, and I am extremely proud of their response. To a one, they voted to break camp and ride to the front so as to strike at the heart of the German military machine. By doing so, I am disobeying the orders of my Commander-in-Chief, and because of this somewhat peculiar situation, I doubt that I shall be able to send too many more letters to you until I have helped to end this war. At that time, I shall turn myself over to Pershing, or whoever is in charge, and argue my case before whatever tribunal is deemed proper.
However, before that moment occurs, we shall finally see action, bearing the glorious banner of the Stars and Stripes. My men are a finely-tuned fighting machine, and I daresay that they will give a splendid account of themselves before the conflict is over. We have not made contact with the enemy yet, nor can I guess where we shall finally meet, but we are primed and eager for our first taste of battle. Our spirit is high, and many of the old-timers spend their hours singing the old battle songs from Cuba. We are all looking forward to a bully battle, and we plan to teach the Hun a lesson he won’t soon forget.
Give my love to the children, and when you write to Kermit and Quentin, tell them that their father has every intention of reaching Berlin before they do!
All my love,
Theodore
Roosevelt, who had been busily writing an article on ornithology, looked up from his desk as McCoy entered his tent.
“Well?”
“We think we’ve found what we’ve been looking for, Mr. President,” said McCoy.
“Excellent!” said Roosevelt, carefully closing his notebook. “Tell me about it.”
McCoy spread a map out on the desk.
“Well, the front lines, as you know, are here, about fifteen miles to the north of us. The Germans are entrenched here, and we haven’t been able to move them for almost three weeks.” McCoy paused. “The word I get from my old outfit is that the Americans are planning a major push on the German left, right about here.”
“When?” demanded Roosevelt.
“At sunrise tomorrow morning.”
“Bully!” said Roosevelt. He studied the map for a moment, then looked up. “Where is Jack Pershing?”
“Almost ten miles west and eight miles north of us,” answered McCoy. “He’s dug in, and from what I hear, he came under pretty heavy mortar fire today. He’ll have his hands full without worrying about where an extra regiment of American troops came from.”
“Better and better,” said Roosevelt. “We not only get to fight, but we may even pull Jack’s chestnuts out of the fire.” He turned his attention back to the map. “All right,” he said, “the Americans will advance along this line. What would you say will be their major obstacle?”
“You mean besides the mud and the Germans and the mustard gas?” asked McCoy wryly.
“You know what I mean, Hank.”
“Well,” said McCoy, “there’s a small rise here — I’d hardly call it a hill, certainly not like the one we took in Cuba — but it’s manned by four machine guns, and it gives the Germans an excellent view of the territory the Americans have got to cross.”