March, 1920
Le Havre, France
It was with a deep sense of melancholy that I stood along the rail at the stern of the ocean liner, watching the coast of France recede into the distance.
I was going home, after seven years of service with the American Embassy in Paris, and while part of me was glad to be returning to America, a larger part of me knew I was leaving behind a large part of my life.
It was a cold, blustery day on the cusp of spring, and I had my overcoat buttoned to the top to ward off the chill that came from the ocean. I could feel tears welling in my eyes as I watched France fade away in the ever-growing distance.
Just then I felt the soft touch on my arm, and I looked over at the woman next to me, with the sleeping child on her shoulder. I looked in her eyes for just a moment, and saw reflected there the pain and weariness that had nearly consumed us over the previous two and a half years.
"Come, Robert, I must take the child down below," she said. "Why don't you join us. You will catch your death of cold out here."
"In a few minutes," I replied. "I'd like to stay alone for a moment. I have much on my mind. I'll be down shortly."
"As you wish," she said, and turned to go back toward the stairway that led to our cabin.
I looked back to get one final glimpse of the land I had come to love over the previous seven years, during that awful time when hell visited earth. But the land had already been obscured by the low-hanging clouds and the distance we had already sailed, leaving me with nothing but empty ocean with which to share my thoughts.
I thought back over everything that had happened over that period, of the friends I had made both in my own embassy and the embassies of other nations that had been allied with France, of Marcel and, of course, of Madeleine.
^ ^ ^ ^
Nov. 11, 1918
Paris, France
At 11 a.m. that morning, the guns went silent, ending the Great War after slightly over 51 months of bloodshed.
I was back at the American Embassy, awaiting the final word from Gen. Pershing's staff that the Germans had laid down their arms, in accordance with the terms of the armistice they had signed a few days before, and that the war really was over.
A few minutes before 11, the telephone rang in Ambassador Sharp's office. He picked up the earpiece, listened for a few seconds, then answered, "Good, congratulations."
After hanging the earpiece back on its receiver, he turned to us with a smile, and said the two words that we'd been waiting months to hear, "It's over."
We shook hands around the room with a sense of satisfaction, but without the jubilation that was sure to be felt around the world -- at least among the victorious Allies. Those of us in the diplomatic community knew there was plenty of work left to do.
For those of us in the American Embassy, we knew that winning the war was only part of the battle. We wanted to win the peace, as well, and we knew that doing so might put us at odds with our allies, the French and British.
But that would be a problem for the months ahead. Today was a day for celebration.
Minutes later, when the clock reached the top of the hour, the news began to spread all over Paris. Church bells rang throughout the city, and crowds of celebrants began to fill the streets.
Mr. Sharp had given us the rest of the day off, and I had made my way through the thickening crowds to Marcel's, where it had all started for me.
As soon as I entered the bistro, Marcel came over to me and we embraced in a way that only close friends do. There were tears of joy streaming down his face, which I knew reflected the palpable relief all over the world that this four-year long nightmare was finally over.
I made my way back to the kitchen, where I found Madeleine directing the cook and filling food orders. She saw me, and we hugged deeply, just letting the love flow from one to the other.
The previous months had been hard on us, and our relationship had been tested in profound ways, so that embrace reflected our hopes that maybe things would get better.
Madeleine hadn't worked in the bistro much in recent months, for a variety of reasons, which had much to do with the trials and tribulations that had beset us. My mind wandered back over the weeks and months, and I replayed the events in my memory.
Ironically, things began turning bad as a result of a blessed event.
I happened to be back in Paris in early August, 1917, when Madeleine reached me at the embassy with the news that she was pregnant.
Naturally, I was overjoyed. Our hopes that we had talked about when we had first been courting included filling our home with children.
However, Madeleine was sick a lot during that period with persistent morning sickness. After speaking to her physician, I was reassured that everything was progressing normally, so I returned to the front and Gen. Pershing's headquarters.
The pace of American arrivals was quickening, and my workload was heavy. Our troops needed to be trained in the new warfare that existed on the Western Front, and my expertise was needed both in lecturing the officers mostly, plus I was also being assigned to assess German troop strengths.
One of my signal skills was accurately gauging the relative strength of enemy troops in a particular sector based on a number of factors that included reports from secret agents working behind German lines.
Obtaining this information was the most dangerous part of my job, because it put me close to the front, and even occasionally required me to go behind the lines.
Still, the bulk of my work involved analysis of information and organizing that data in a form that was easily understandable to the generals and diplomats with whom I was working.
That was what I was doing on the fateful day in October when I got an urgent telegram from the embassy informing me that Madeleine had been hospitalized.
I managed to reach Marcel by telephone -- no small feat under the conditions -- and he informed me that Madeleine had miscarried the baby. There was more, but before he could tell me what it was, we lost the connection.
