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What was it that determined me to appoint General Foch to the Supreme Command? General Mordacq’s notes allow me to follow the battles of the future chief of the Allies.

After the battles in Lorraine, on August 29, 1914, General Foch relinquished the command of the Twentieth Army Corps, in order to take up that of an army detachment intended to cover the left of the Fourth Army more effectively, and to link it up with the Fifth....

This detachment before long became the Ninth Army, at the head of which General Foch was to play an important part in the battle of the Marne....

General Joffre, deeming “the strategical situation excellent and in accord with the dispositions aimed at,” issued orders, on the evening of September 4, to resume the offensive on the morning of the 6th, and to concentrate upon the German First Army the efforts of the Allied armies on the left wing....

September the 6th sees the general launching of the attack. The Ninth Army is in the centre. It is precisely at this point the Germans are making their main effort. In reply to the manœuvre of Maunoury’s army on the German right, von Moltke orders Bulow’s army, which includes the Guard and the best German troops, to drive home the attack upon the French centre—that is to say, upon the Ninth Army....

This army is stopped, and that at the height of its attack. Impossible for it to reach its objective, the district to the north of the Marais de Saint-Gond. At the end of the day it has barely struggled up to the southern fringe of the marshes....

Its left wing, violently assailed, is fighting desperately at Mondement (the Moroccan division). The 42nd Division succeeds in driving the Guard back into the Marais de Saint-Gond. The Eleventh Army Corps, on the right, is holding out against the German attacks with difficulty.^[1] ...

September 9. The situation is becoming grave: the Prussian Guard have carried Fère-Champenoise by storm; the Ninth and Eleventh Army Corps are falling back. General Foch, unperturbed by the situation, sends a report to G.Q.G. which concludes, “I am giving fresh orders to resume the offensive.”^[2]

And so, reinforced by the Tenth Army Corps, he launches a fresh counter-attack on Fère-Champenoise....

September 10. He resumes the offensive along his whole front; after desperate fighting Fère-Champenoise is retaken. In the evening the Germans retreat, and are pressed back north of the Marais de Saint-Gond....

September 11. Helped by a cavalry corps (under General de l’Espée), which General Joffre has placed at the disposal of General Foch, the pursuit begins in the direction of the Marne, which is reached by the Ninth Army on September 12, between Épernay and Châlons. Large numbers of prisoners are captured, and considerable quantities of stores and provisions.

The German High Command had ordered a general retreat on the evening of September 10.

After the battle of the Marne the German Staff had at once prepared a new enveloping movement against the French left wing. On its side the French High Command was trying to outflank the German right, which brought about the battles of Picardy and Artois and the “race to the sea.”

In the early days of October 1914 the situation was serious for the Allies: Lille threatened by the German cavalry, Flanders lying open, while the whole of the enemy forces were moving up more and more to the north, and threatening to break through the front at any moment.

It was at this juncture that General Joffre, on October 4, entrusted General Foch (whose Ninth Army had been broken up) with the task of co-ordinating all the forces engaged between the Oise and the sea—Castelnau’s and Maud’huy’s armies, a group of territorial divisions under General Brugère, and the Dunkirk garrison.

At the same time the English Army was transferred to Flanders (the Hazebrouck-Ypres region).

October 9. The fortress of Antwerp capitulates, and the Belgian field army which was surrounded there succeeds in reaching the coast, and, on October 11, occupies the region between Ypres and the sea. King Albert intimates that he will be happy to give his entire support to the co-ordination of the efforts of all the Allied forces which General Foch had been delegated to bring about.

The German Plan. After the fall of Antwerp the Germans, following their original plan, aimed at turning the position of the Allies by proceeding if necessary as far as the sea, and took Dunkirk, Boulogne, and Calais for their objective.

After the march to Paris came—as the German Press announced—the march to Calais. To attain their goal, the Germans concentrated no fewer than 600,000 men in Belgium and Flanders.

The French, warned of this huge manœuvre, brought up all their available reserves into Belgium.

October 20. The transport of the English Army has been achieved under favourable conditions. It is grouped entirely in the Ypres region.

The Belgian Army established the line of the Yser.

All these movements of the Belgian and English Armies were covered by the two French cavalry corps.

It may be said, then, that on October 20 the “race to the sea” was at an end, and the barrier established. It remained to hold it, and this was what brought on the battle of the Yser.

October 21. The situation of the Allies is as follows:

On the right, the English (three army corps).

In the centre, the French (three divisions, the marines, a Belgian brigade).

On the left, the Belgians (six divisions).

On the extreme left, the French 42nd Division.

Against which the Germans have at their disposal:

(i)

Six army corps belonging to the Fourth Army,

(ii)

Five army corps belonging to the Sixth Army.

October 22. To frustrate the German plan, General Foch, in conjunction with Field-Marshal Sir John French and King Albert, gives the order to attack. The battle of the Yser begins.

In the north the Belgians and French make a vigorous attack, but a violent German counter-attack, supported by a formidable weight of heavy artillery, cuts short their offensive, and they have speedily to resort to flooding the district in order to stay the onrush of the Germans. The lock-gates at Nieuport are opened, and the water covers the whole valley of the Yser between Nieuport and Dixmude.

October 30. The Germans, nevertheless, are still pressing on the attack; but they are brought to a stop, and on November 2 are forced to recross the Yser, abandoning part of their artillery.

Farther south, in the Ypres region, the English in turn have taken the offensive on October 23, making Courtrai their general objective. From the 23rd to the 28th of October the attack develops favourably, but on the latter date the Germans make a vigorous counter-attack with six army corps, and drive in the English front.

At this point General Foch puts the equivalent of three corps of French troops at the disposal of Field-Marshal Sir John French, but again the Germans attack in force and compel the Allies to fall back. Field-Marshal Sir John French now contemplates a withdrawal to the west of Ypres. General Foch succeeds in making him give up this idea—an act of capital importance which was the deciding factor of the battle. The Allies counter-attack and stop the German advance.

From the 1st to the 6th of November the battle rages along the whole front: but, despite the superhuman efforts of the Germans, they fail to break through. The fighting continues, but it may be said that the great battle of the Yser was at an end on November 15. The Germans have failed to get through and attain their objective—the sea. Their losses are enormous. The Guard has been decimated, and more than 250,000 men are gone. On the Allied side, too, casualties are heavy. Both sides are exhausted, but set about reorganizing.

This huge battle of the Yser was the end of the “race to the sea.” The Germans, after trying in vain to turn the Allies’ left, had undertaken this march nach Calais, which might, indeed, have procured them considerable advantages from a strategical point of view. On November 15, 1914, they were obliged to give up the attempt. This battle of Ypres, if not a victory for the Allies, who with their depleted ranks were unable to exploit it, was, beyond a shadow of doubt, a decided defeat for the Germans.

The success was definitely and distinctly due to General Foch, who, though without official status, had known how to impose his will upon the Allies in the conduct of operations by his energy, his tenacity, and his unfailing confidence. To sum up, it was he who at all points DIRECTED the gigantic battle of the Yser and won it. Had it been lost, it was he who would certainly have borne the responsibility.

It is not my intention here to picture the gloomy realities of our pre-War military position. We know that the first effect of our unpreparedness was to lay French territory open to the enemy. Up to the present nobody has come forward to accept responsibility for our lack of quick-firing heavy artillery, or for the scandalous shortage of machine-guns, mistakes so grave that, but for the rally on the Marne, our territories from the frontier to Paris would have been in the grip of the enemy. Admirable as was this recovery from our defeat, it could not exhaust the impetus of the enemy offensive. The result of the first battle was to determine that the War was to be fought out on French soil, where the hostile armies applied themselves to the systematic ravaging of our industrial towns and of our country districts, along with the enslavement of the people.

Who then was responsible for this initial blunder? Is it impossible to tell us, or, at any rate, to pretend to make inquiry? If the historian ever thinks of timidly putting this question I will take advantage of the fact and put another to him. Was it forbidden to forecast that Germany might dishonour her own signature by violating the neutrality of Belgium? And what could prevent her from taking certain military steps to that end? And who did not know the German state of mind? And who could believe that a moral obstacle was the kind that could stop men or rulers for a single moment? I have looked through Colonel Foch’s work on the principles of war. I saw with utter dismay that there was not a single word in it on the question of armaments. A metaphysical treatise on war! And yet it is not without importance to know if an attack with catapults or with quick-firing guns may call upon us to vary our means of defence. Questions of this nature really deserve some consideration.

What a difference in mentality on the two sides of the Rhine! In Germany every tightening up of authority to machine-drill men with a view to the most violent offensive; with us all the dislocations of easygoing slackness and fatuous reliance on big words.

The letters exchanged between the King of England and M. Poincaré at the moment of the declaration of war bear sufficient witness to the common distress of the peoples concerned. Skilful and discreetly worded, M. Poincaré’s letter was in substance a request for help. Friendly but evasive. King George’s reply amounted to a refusal for the moment. England, still less prepared than ourselves, was slow to understand that she was to play her part. Had she had but one hour of flinching, all might well have been lost. The violation of Belgian neutrality was to put an end to her hesitations.

There was a certain incoherence and confusion about the preliminary arranging of alliances for a war that could no longer be avoided. It could not be otherwise, seeing that the advantage of organized anticipation was altogether on the side of Germany, in whose hands lay the offensive. So the first impulse of the Allies in the critical hours was in the direction of a universal demand for one supreme military authority. But every army is the highest expression of nationality in action, and the heads of the national power it represents did not easily yield on this point, nay, it was even the American people, the least military of all, that raised the greatest difficulties at the decisive moment.

From the outset of the War popular feeling in France had placed the hope of success in unity of command; and when once experience and the logic of theory were both agreed on this point, nothing was left but to agree upon the choice of the Generalissimo.^[3] There never was the shadow of a discussion, to my knowledge, as to the principle, any more than there was about the person to whom that high post could be entrusted.^[4] There were no competitors. Only the name of Foch was uttered. The main point was that Foch had displayed qualities of the highest kind in desperate circumstances which, above everything, called for miracles of resistance, while Mangin, with his vehement temperament, had been able to work miracles in the offensive. Both had, by logical sequence, the grave defect of being unable to endure the civil power—when they did not need its support.

Pétain, who is no less great a soldier, has brilliant days, and is always steady. In perilous battles I found him tranquilly heroic—that is to say, master of himself. Perhaps without illusions, but certainly without recriminations, he was always ready for self-sacrifice. I have great pleasure in paying him this tribute. He has been greatly blamed for the pessimistic utterances of his headquarters staff. The truth was, I verily believe, that the very worst could not frighten him and that he had no difficulty in facing it with unshakable serenity. But his entourage were too prone to open their ears to croakings. A few embusqués on the Staff flourished these abroad, with deductions and conclusions that were not those of their chief—who remained unshakably a great soldier.

This frightful War brought us out good generals, and many of those who have the right to risk an opinion will perhaps tell us that Foch was the most complete of them all. Simple minds, which are the majority, love to judge men in the lump, by an approximate description that they like to think final and clinching. But human nature is too complex, too variable, to lend itself readily to these summary methods, which do not always enable the most earnest sincerity to discover the true formula to describe a living force. Did General Foch, who was by no means rich in subtleties of character, possess along with his strategic talents the diplomatic aptitudes essential to an international chief? But we must not anticipate.

The difficulty came mainly from the British side, where our military influence was all the greater, inasmuch as we made no parade of it. I remained very moderate in conversations on the matter, knowing, in any case, through our constant friend Lord Milner, that the problem was moving slowly but surely toward the happy solution.

There was a long way to go. We had had too many wars with the British for them readily to fall in with the idea of placing their soldiers under the command of a Frenchman.

The day^[5] I first broached the subject to General Sir Douglas Haig, as I was breakfasting at his headquarters, the soldier jumped up like a jack-in-the-box, and, with both hands shot up to heaven, exclaimed:

“Monsieur Clemenceau, I have only one chief, and I can have no other. My King.”

A bad beginning. Conversations followed without result, until that day at Doullens, when under the pressure of events Lord Milner, after a short colloquy with Field-Marshal Haig, informed me that the opposition to the unity of command had been dropped.

The rest followed. But several stages more were needed to arrive at a formula that should approximately secure all the necessary conditions for increased efficiency through the single command. Resistance in England came not so much from the Army as from Parliament, and, most of all, from the ‘man in the street.’ The idea of seeing a French general commanding British generals was for a long time unendurable. The argument seemed more to the point when our joint failure of 1917, under the temporary command of General Nivelle, was pointed out. But that was nothing more than the outward semblance of an argument that held good because no one ventured to go absolutely to the bottom of it.

It was at Doullens that Foch, without anyone’s permission, laid hold of the command. For that minute I shall remain grateful to him until my last breath. We were in the courtyard of the mairie, under the eyes of a public stricken with stupefaction, which on every side was putting the question to us, “Will the Germans be coming to Doullens? Try to keep them from coming.” Among us there was silence, suddenly broken by an exclamation from a French general, who, pointing to Haig close by us, said to me in a low voice:

“There is a man who will be obliged to capitulate in open field within a fortnight, and very lucky if we are not obliged to do the same.”

From the mouth of an expert this speech was by no means calculated to confirm the confidence we wanted to hold on to at all costs.

There was a bustle, and Foch arrived, surrounded by officers, and dominating everything with his cutting voice.

“You aren’t fighting? I would fight without a break. I would fight in front of Amiens. I would fight in Amiens. I would fight behind Amiens. I would fight all the time.”^[6]

No commentary is needed on that speech. I confess that for my own part I could hardly refrain from throwing myself into the arms of this admirable chief in the name of France in deadly peril.

At the moment when we had found Foch out of favour in the post of Chief of the General Staff he already had to his credit two great defensive actions of the utmost brilliance.

On the Marne and on the Yser he had reached the heights in the desperate resistance that, by the power of his word, had fixed Field-Marshal French on the field of battle, and by his mere example he had maintained his troops invincible under the terrific onslaught of the enemy. The Germans had determined to win at all costs. Immovable in this extremity of peril, Foch had flung in his men to the very limit of the wild gallantry that carries the fighting soldier beyond the demands of duty. On that day they all entered together into the glory of the heroes of antiquity.

At length, in the Doullens conference—March 26, 1918—the varying phases of which have been many times related,^[7] in the end the following text was agreed upon:

General Foch is charged by the British and French Governments with co-ordinating the action of the Allied armies on the Western Front. For this purpose he will come to an understanding with the Generals-in-Chief, who are invited to furnish him with all necessary information.

This was merely a first step, but it was decisive. The title of Commander-in-Chief was not yet accepted by the English. At Beauvais^[8] I proposed to entrust Foch with “the strategic command,” and the formula was accepted. The text of the new agreement was as follows:

General Foch is charged by the British, French, and American Governments with the duty of co-ordinating the action of the Allied armies on the Western Front, and with this object in view there is conferred upon him all the powers necessary for its effective accomplishment. For this purpose the British, French, and American Governments entrust to General Foch the strategic direction of military operations.

At the request of the English the following phrase was added:

The Commanders-in-Chief of the British, French, and American Armies shall exercise in full the tactical conduct of their Armies. Each Commander-in-Chief shall have the right to appeal to his Government if, in his opinion, his Army finds itself placed in danger by any instruction received from General Foch.

In order to define the advantages attached to the title that was finally obtained, I asked General Foch to write to the Allied Governments. In his letter he laid stress on this argument, “I have to PERSUADE, instead of DIRECTING. Power of supreme control seems to me indispensable for achieving success.”

All that took time. At last, after continual pressing on my part, I obtained an answer from Mr Lloyd George: the British Government, he said, had no longer any objection to General Foch taking the title of Commander-in-Chief of the Allied armies in France.^[9] On the same day our excellent General Bliss, after a conversation with General Mordacq at Versailles, sent me this message in the name of the President of the United States: “I guarantee that our Government will see nothing but advantage in the unity of command.”

For me it was less a matter of formulas than of the acts depending on them. Already at Clermont (Oise)^[10] General Pershing had come to place himself at the disposal of his new chief in a moving speech, the memory of which has remained fresh and vivid in our hearts. At the same time Pétain too had come to take General Foch’s orders. On every side there was full harmony. We were on the threshold of decisive action.

What use was made of this higher command is a question that military history will have the task of clearing up. For many reasons I am not convinced that it actually played the decisive part public opinion is inclined to attribute to it. That history will have to be written by others than those who lived it. We must be told what amount of obedience was asked for and obtained, and in what circumstances, and for what results. We have not got so far as that yet.

It must indeed be said that in his exercise of the single command the Generalissimo at times gave way to hesitancies, to temperings of authority calculated to leave the desired and expected results in uncertainty. On the other hand, I think I can say that the commander of the British Army never submitted wholly to the instructions of General Foch, who was perhaps over-anxious to have no difficulty with the two great chiefs theoretically his subordinates.

Then came the evil day of the Chemin des Dames. To procure fresh effectives and to confirm General Foch’s authority^[11] I had the following sentence inserted into the message sent by the heads of the Allied Governments to Mr Wilson:^[12] “We consider that General Foch, who is conducting the present campaign with consummate skill, AND WHOSE MILITARY JUDGMENT INSPIRES US WITH THE UTMOST CONFIDENCE, DOES NOT EXAGGERATE THE NECESSITIES OF THE MOMENT.”

The chief trouble at this moment^[13] came from Sir Douglas Haig, who, as usual, was unwilling to allow the Generalissimo to remove reserves from the English Army to use them on the French front.^[14] The English desired first and foremost to protect the Channel ports. Nothing could be more natural. General Foch, who had French divisions in Flanders, did not wish to bring them away, because that was where he was expecting the German attack before and after the Chemin des Dames collapse. He informed me of the position. I had made it a fixed rule to abstain from all discussions of a purely military nature, but I had the right—it was even my duty—to make inquiries to discover whether the Supreme Command was functioning properly.

[1] September 7 and 8.

[2] These simple words at this critical moment display the character of the soldier.

[3] In an excellent article in the Revue des Deux Mondes (April 15, 1929) general Mordacq has elucidated this question in a remarkable manner. Subsequently he expanded this work in a volume in which General Foch is treated with the honour that is his due. Everybody knows that General Mordacq, one of our best generals of division, was the head of my military secretariat. I know those who have never forgiven him yet for that.

[4] Lord Milner had had the idea, in order to soothe the susceptibilities of the British soldier, of giving the title to me, so that the function might devolve upon Foch as Chief of the General Staff. It was never broached to me. Need I say that I should never have fallen in with this curious scheme?

[5] January 1918.

[6] I did not fail to report these words to the President of the Republic, who quoted them in his address to the great soldier when handing him the bâton of Maréchal de France, which I myself proposed for him.

[7] “... The meeting was fixed for eleven o’clock at Doullens, which was sensibly situated half-way between the English and French headquarters. At eleven o’clock precisely M. Clemenceau and I arrived at the Place de la Mairie, a square thenceforth historic. Shortly after came M. Poincaré, accompanied by General Duparge.... Field-Marshal Haig was there already, in conference in the mairie with his army commanders, Generals Home, Plumer, and Byng.

“Then came General Foch, calmer than ever, nevertheless not succeeding in hiding his ardent desire to see the Allies at last come to certain logical decisions....

“Lastly, General Pétain arrived in his turn, anxious enough....

“It was rather cold, and to keep ourselves warm we walked about in little groups in the square in front of the mairie, these little groups halting every now and then to talk together.

“The scene was not lacking in impressiveness and unusualness. Upon the highway, which runs along the square itself, there might be seen English troops retiring sedately, in perfect order, without showing the least trace of any emotion of any kind—the British imperturbability in the fullest acceptation of the word; then, seemingly nearer every moment, a violent cannonade: the German guns, which were, in fact, a few kilometres away, calling us back to reality and making us think of ‘the great game that was being played.’

“All those men in that modest little square, all those Frenchmen who fully understood the situation, were well aware of the importance of this day. That is why under a calm exterior the pangs of anxiety gnawed at every heart.

“But time was going on, and still the English did not arrive.

“Noon.... Still nobody....

“At length, at five minutes after twelve, Lord Milner’s cars rolled up. General Wilson was with him.

“The Anglo-French conference then began, the time being twenty minutes past twelve.

“M. Clemenceau at once brought up the question of Amiens. Field-Marshal Haig declared that there had been a misunderstanding on the matter, that not only had he never thought of evacuating Amiens, but that it was his firm intention to bring together every division at his disposal to reinforce his right, which was obviously his weak spot, and consequently that of the Allies. His line would hold north of the Somme, that he guaranteed absolutely; but to the south of the river he could do nothing more; and besides he had placed all the remaining elements of the Fifth Army under General Pétain’s orders.... To which General Pétain replied, ‘There is very little of it left, and in strict truth we may say that the Fifth Army no longer exists.’ Field-Marshal Haig added further that he might perhaps be obliged to rectify his line before Arras, but that this was not yet certain: he even hoped it need not come to that. Those were the resources at his disposal; in his turn he asked the French to disclose theirs.

“General Pétain was then called upon. He explained the situation as he saw it, and as it really was—in other words, gloomy enough—and stressed all the difficulties he had been forced up against since March 21. He added that since the previous day, and the Compiègne interview, he had looked for all possible resources to cope with the situation, and that he was happy to be able to say that he would perhaps manage to throw twenty-four divisions into the battle, though, of course, these divisions were far from fresh, and most of them had just been fighting. In any case, he felt that in a situation of this kind it was essential not to be deceived by illusions, but to look realities in the face, and accordingly it must be realized that a fairly considerable time was necessary to get these units ready to take part in operations. At all events, he had done everything possible to send all available troops to the Amiens region, not hesitating even to strip the French front in the centre and east—even beyond what was prudent. He therefore asked that Field-Marshal Haig would be good enough to do the same on his side.

“Field-Marshal Haig replied that he would ask nothing better than to ‘do the same, but that unfortunately he had absolutely no reserves and that in England itself there were no men left capable of going into the line immediately.’

“At this a distinct chill fell upon the meeting, and for some moments no one said a word. General Pétain’s straightforward account of the position had naturally made a profound impression upon everybody, and especially on the English. This can be traced from Lord Milner’s report [see Appendix I for the official text of this report made by Lord Milner to his Government on his journey to France].

“General Pétain, he says, ‘gave a certain impression of coldness and caution, as of a man playing for safety. None of his listeners seemed very happy or convinced. Wilson and Haig evidently were not; indeed, Wilson made an interjection which almost amounted to a protest. Foch, who had been so eloquent the day before, said not a word. But, looking at his face he sat just opposite me—I could see he was still dissatisfied, very impatient, and evidently thinking that things could and must be done more quickly.’ This interval of silence and embarrassment could not continue for long. M. Clemenceau signed to Lord Milner, and taking him into a corner put this question to him at once, ‘We must make an end of this.... What do you propose?’ As a matter of fact, he felt that this time the thing had come to a head, and, like a clever manœuvrer, he meant to leave it to the English to make the request for what France had been preaching for months past, but always without obtaining any satisfaction. Lord Milner was very clear and definite: he proposed to entrust General Foch with the general control of the French and the English Armies, the one logical solution of the problem, in his opinion, as matters then stood. M. Clemenceau forthwith called General Pétain over, and informed him of Lord Milner’s proposal. Nobly the General replied that he was ready to accept whatever might be decided in the interest of his country and of the Allies. Lord Milner was in the meantime putting the same thing to Field-Marshal Haig, who, with an eye only to the general interest, likewise immediately accepted the proposed solution.

“M. Clemenceau forthwith drew up the following note: ‘General Foch is charged,’ ” etc.—Le Commandement unique, by General Mordacq (pp. 77-88).

[8] April 3, 1918.

[9] April 14, 1918.

[10] March 28, 1918.

[11] June 2, 1918.

[12] It was only at the express request of Mr Balfour that General Foch’s declaration was communicated to President Wilson in the name of the French Government, as well as of the British.

[13] June 1918.

[14] I know nothing of the relations between Sir Douglas Haig and Foch. I think I can say that the British commander never gave his complete obedience. It may readily be supposed that I never put too definite questions to the military chiefs in regard to this.