“That dirty little Irish son of a bitch is an excellent plant manager.”
“He lied! It’s all lies!”
“It’s the truth! He kept a number of men from pressing charges against you. You should be grateful for that.”
“To hell with them! Groveling little snot-noses!”
“Your language is abhorrent! Who are you to call names? What have you contributed?”
“I don’t have to!”
“Why? Because you’re what you are? What are you? What extraordinary capabilities do you possess? I’d like to know.”
“That’s what you’re looking for, isn’t it? Isn’t it!? What can you do, little man? What can you do to make money?”
“It’s one measure of success.”
“It’s your only measure!”
“And you reject it?”
“You’re damned right!”
“Then become a missionary.”
“No, thanks!”
“Then don’t cast aspersions at the marketplace. It takes a certain capability to survive there. Your father knew that.”
“He knew how to maneuver. You think I haven’t heard? How to manipulate, just like you!”
“He was a genius! He trained himself! What have you done? What have you ever done but live on what he provided? And you can’t even do that graciously!”
“Shit!”
Elizabeth suddenly stopped for a moment, watching her son. “That’s it! My God, that’s it, isn’t it?… You’re frightened to death. You possess a great deal of arrogance but you have nothing—absolutely nothing—to be arrogant about! It must be very painful.”
Her son raced out of the room, and Elizabeth sat for a long time pondering the exchange that had just taken place. She was genuinely afraid. Ulster was dangerous. He saw all around him the fruits of accomplishment without the talent or the ability to make his own contribution. He’d bear watching. Then she thought of all three sons. Shy, malleable Roland Wyckham; studious, precise Chancellor Drew; and the arrogant Ulster Stewart.
On April 6, 1917, the immediate answer was provided: America entered the World War.
The first to go was Roland Wyckham. He left his senior year at Princeton and sailed for France as Lieutenant Scarlett, AEF, Artillery. He was killed on his first day at the front.
The two remaining boys immediately made plans to avenge their brother’s death. For Chancellor Drew the revenge had meaning; for Ulster Stewart it was an escape. And Elizabeth reasoned that she and Giovanni had not created an empire to have it terminated by war. One child must stay behind.
With cold calculation she commanded Chancellor Drew to remain a civilian. Ulster Stewart could go to war.
Ulster Stewart Scarlett sailed for France, had no mishaps at Cherbourg, and gave a fair account of himself at the front, especially at Meuse-Argonne. In the last days of the war he was decorated for bravery in action against the enemy.
CHAPTER 4
November 2, 1918
The Meuse-Argonne offensive was in its third or pursuit stage in the successful battle to break the Hindenburg line between Sedan and Mézières. The American First Army was deployed from Regneville to La Harasée in the Argonne Forest, a distance of some twenty miles. If the chief German supply lines in this sector were broken, the Kaiser’s General Ludendorff would have no alternative but to sue for an armistice.
On November 2, the Third Army Corps under the command of General Robert Lee Bullard crashed through the demoralized German ranks on the right flank and took not only the territory but also eight thousand prisoners. Although other division commanders lived to dispute the conclusion, this breakthrough by the Third Army Corps signaled the final arrangements for the armistice a week later.
And for many in B Company, Fourteenth Battalion, Twenty-seventh Division, Third Corps, the performance of Second Lieutenant Ulster Scarlett was a superb example of the heroics that prevailed during those days of horror.
It started early in the morning. Scarlett’s company had reached a field in front of a small forest of pine. The miniature forest was filled with Germans trying desperately to regroup under cover in order to execute an orderly retreat farther back into their own lines. The Americans dug three rows of shallow trenches to minimize their exposure.
Second Lieutenant Scarlett had one dug for himself just a bit deeper.
The captain of Scarlett’s company did not like his second lieutenant, for the lieutenant was very good at issuing orders but very poor at executing them himself. Further, the captain suspected him of being less than enthusiastic about being shifted from a reserve division to the combat area. He also held it against his second lieutenant that throughout their reserve assignment—the major portion of their stay in France—he had been sought out by any number of ranking officers, all only too happy to have their photographs taken with him. It seemed to the captain that his second lieutenant was having a hell of a good time.