Foch the Man: A Life of the Supreme Commander of the Allied Armies — Context and Discussion

The Opening Frame: Poem, Letter, and Dedication

The book's front matter is unusually rich. The dedication singles out 'the men of the 42d Division' for their conduct on September 9, 1914, a date tied to the First Battle of the Marne. This specificity grounds the biography in a particular action, not just general praise. The poem by an unnamed author uses three spirits—Love, Sacrifice, Freedom—to frame the war as a moral struggle. Lt.-Colonel Réquin's letter, reproduced in facsimile, adds an official stamp: he calls the sketch 'not yet history' but 'the story of a great leader of men.' This tension between immediacy and historical distance recurs throughout.

Foch's Maxim and the Lorraine Campaign

In the chapter on the Battle of Lorraine, Laughlin repeatedly invokes Foch's maxim: 'The best means of defense is to attack.' She describes his Twentieth Corps fighting into German Lorraine, then being forced to withdraw. The narrative is punctuated by Foch's self-questioning: 'What have we to do here?' This phrase appears twice, signaling a pattern of adaptive command. Laughlin admits uncertainty about a key event—'Just what it was is not clear—but doubtless will be some day'—a rare moment of acknowledged ignorance that respects the limits of contemporary knowledge. The excerpt also includes an intercepted German telegram, showing Laughlin's use of captured documents to dramatize Foch's impact.

Joffre's Order of the Day and the Structure of Command

Laughlin reproduces General Joffre's August 27, 1914 order commending the First and Second Armies for 'tenacity and courage.' She then asks pointedly: 'Now, where were those other armies? And what were they doing?' This rhetorical shift moves from praise to analysis, listing France's eight armies and noting that a ninth—under Foch—was soon formed. The passage reveals Laughlin's method: she uses official documents to build authority, then inserts her own questions to guide the reader. The list of army commanders (Dubail, Castelnau, Sarrail, etc.) provides a snapshot of the French high command, though she admits ignorance about the Seventh and Eighth Armies.

The Author's Voice and the Limits of Contemporary Biography

Throughout the excerpts, Laughlin's voice is direct and opinionated. She writes of Foch's disappointment at the failed offensive: 'How bitter was the disappointment to Foch we may guess but shall never know.' This blend of empathy and restraint characterizes her approach. She does not claim access to Foch's inner thoughts but infers from his actions. The book was published in multiple printings from November 1918 to May 1919, suggesting a wartime audience hungry for heroic narratives. Laughlin's style—using short paragraphs, rhetorical questions, and quoted maxims—makes the military history accessible. Readers should note that this is a contemporary portrait, not a retrospective analysis, and treat its claims as products of their moment.

Readers approaching this biography should attend to its framing devices: the dedicatory poem, the official letter, and the repeated maxims. Laughlin writes as a partisan, not a neutral historian, and her work captures the fervor of 1918. The excerpts show a writer who weaves documents, anecdotes, and her own commentary into a portrait of command under pressure. For a full understanding, compare her account with later histories of the Marne and Lorraine campaigns.

I remember Foch, that fierce old Christian soldier who found peace in the attack. It made me think of another quiet warrior, William Farrar Smith, whose Heroes of the Great Conflict; Life and Services of William Farrar Smith, Major General, United States Volunteer in the Civil War — Themes and Context rests near him on my shelf. Both men knew duty, and the lonely weight of it.