Pond Farm Headquarters
“My inclination is to give up the salient,” says a diminutive man pacing up and down the room. From his uniform I can see he has the rank of field marshal. He is uneasy.“General French, let’s rethink this strategy,” says a man in heavily accented English. His voice is assertive; he is clearly confident. “I have ordered up large reinforcements. They are on their way now.”
“I don’t know… I don’t know,” mutters French. “With all due respect, General Foch, look what happened yesterday. You were overrun – German’s everywhere. I can’t spare the men.”
“I appreciate your uncertainty,” says Foch, “and I don’t expect you to fully understand, but this is French soil. We will gain the original line. My men are ready, willing. And yours?”
General French turns and walks to the other end of the room. He is annoyed. He removes his hat and runs his fingers through his hair. His head lowers in thought. He stares blankly at another man as if searching for an answer.
“We’re not one to back down from a fight,” says the other man. “I’ve never lost a trench sir.”
“Alderson, you are a fine officer,” beams Foch. He claps his hands. A charismatic smile comes to his face. “You believe in l’offensive à outrance.” He appears to be truly enjoying himself.
General French rolls his eyes. He continues to pace. It is clear that he is losing the argument. “You will start the offensive then?” he asks feebly.
“Absolutely!” says Foch. “I will order my men to push on towards Pilckem. We can do so before dawn—.”
“And we will provide support,” interrupts French emphasizing the word “support”.
“I can assure you, General French, that we can have the original line established in a few days with your help,” says Foch. He is buoyant.
French sits down. He sighs in defeat. “What time is it?” he asks.
“3:30am,” answers Alderson.
French reaches for a piece of paper and begins to scribble. “Alright, Alderson, relay the order. Have your men stand-to. We wait for the French attack and then we go.” He hands the paper to Alderson. He gets up and walks in my direction. He looks at me coldly. And what of you, sir? Will your men be ready?”