Fall of Giants

“Well, first of all we won the war for them.”

She nodded. “Wilson said: ‘At Château-Thierry we saved the world.’”

“Chuck Dixon and I were in that battle.”

“Was that where he died?”

“Direct hit from a shell. First casualty I saw. Not the last, sadly.”

“I’m very sorry, especially for his wife. I’ve known Doris for years-we used to have the same piano teacher.”

“I don’t know if we saved the world, though,” Gus went on. “There are many more French and British and Russians among the dead than Americans. But we tipped the balance. That ought to mean something.”

She shook her head, tossing her dark curls. “I disagree. The war is over, and the Europeans no longer need us.”

“Men such as Lloyd George seem to think that American military power cannot be ignored.”

“Then he’s wrong,” said Rosa. Gus was surprised and intrigued to hear a woman speak so forcefully about such a subject. “Suppose the French and British simply refuse to go along with Wilson,” she said. “Would he use the army to enforce his ideas? No. Even if he wanted to, a Republican Congress wouldn’t let him.”

“We have economic and financial power.”

“It’s certainly true that the Allies owe us huge debts, but I’m not sure how much leverage that gives us. There’s a saying: ‘If you owe a hundred dollars, the bank has you in its power; but if you owe a million dollars, you have the bank in your power.’”

Gus began to see that Wilson’s task might be more difficult than he had imagined. “Well, what about public opinion? You saw the reception Wilson got in Brest. All over Europe, people are looking to him to create a peaceful world.”

“That’s his strongest card. People are sick of slaughter. ‘Never again’ is their cry. I just hope Wilson can deliver what they want.”

They returned to their compartments and said good night. Gus lay awake a long time, thinking about Rosa and what she had said. She really was the smartest woman he had ever met. She was beautiful, too. Somehow you quickly forgot about her eye. At first it seemed a terrible deformity, but after a while Gus stopped noticing it.

She had been pessimistic about the conference, however. And everything she said was true. Wilson had a struggle ahead, Gus now realized. He was overjoyed to be part of the team, and determined to do what he could to turn the president’s ideals into reality.

In the small hours of the morning he looked out of the window as the train steamed eastward across France. Passing through a town, he was startled to see crowds on the station platforms and on the road beside the railway line, watching. It was dark, but they were clearly visible by lamplight. There were thousands of them, men and women and children. There was no cheering: they were quite silent. The men and boys took off their hats, Gus saw, and that gesture of respect moved him almost to tears. They had waited half the night to see the passing of the train that held the hope of the world.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE – December 1918 to February 1919

The votes were counted three days after Christmas. Eth and Bernie Leckwith stood in Aldgate town hall to hear the results, Bernie on the platform in his best suit, Eth in the audience.

Bernie lost.

He was stoical, but Ethel cried. For him it was the end of a dream. Perhaps it had been a foolish dream, but all the same he was hurt, and her heart ached for him.

The Liberal candidate had supported the Lloyd George coalition, so there had been no Conservative candidate. Consequently the Conservatives had voted Liberal, and the combination had been too much for Labour to beat.

Bernie congratulated his winning opponent and came down off the platform. The other Labour Party members had a bottle of Scotch and wanted to hold a wake, but Bernie and Ethel went home.

“I’m not cut out for this, Eth,” Bernie said as she boiled water for cocoa.

“You did a good job,” she said. “We were outwitted by that bloody Lloyd George.”

Bernie shook his head. “I’m not a leader,” he said. “I’m a thinker and a planner. Time and again I tried to talk to people the way you do, and fire them with enthusiasm for our cause, but I never could do it. When you talk to them, they love you. That’s the difference.”

She knew he was right.

Next morning the newspapers showed that the Aldgate result had been mirrored all over the country. The coalition had won 525 of the 707 seats, one of the largest majorities in the history of Parliament. The people had voted for the man who won the war.

Ethel was bitterly disappointed. The old men were still running the country. The politicians who had caused millions of deaths were now celebrating, as if they had done something wonderful. But what had they achieved? Pain and hunger and destruction. Ten million men and boys had been killed to no purpose.

The only glimmer of hope was that the Labour Party had improved its position. They had won sixty seats, up from forty-two.