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General John 'Black Jack' Pershing on Dealing with Islamic Terrorism A lthough the indigenous uprising following American victory in the Philippine Islands (conducted by our former allies in the fight against the Spanish) ended formally in July 1902, various insurgent groups were determined to fight on. Lomax, Victor W., “Oh Yes, Some Called Him ‘Black Jack’,” n.d. (C3078) Recollections of John J. Pershing by a native of Laclede, MO, Pershing’s home town. Lomax, Victor W., Papers (SUNP2851) Correspondence, photographs, newspaper clippings, and questionnaires concerning General John J. Pershing, Pershing Memorial State Park, and World. Pershing's first name is 'John,' for which 'Jack' is a nickname, and he was a white man who commanded black troops. Hence 'Black Jack.' The second story is more confusing, though. President Wilson abandoned 'watchful waiting' and appointed General John J. “Black Jack” Pershing to head a punitive force of 12,000 soldiers to locate Villa — dead or alive. Carranza was not enthusiastic about the incursion of an American army onto Mexican soil, and became even less so the farther south the soldiers marched.

• General Black Jack Pershing Biography
• General Black Jack Pershing In Mexico
• General Black Jack Pershing Quotes
• General Black Jack Pershing Pig's Blood

From the Old West to the Western Front, from a troop of Buffalo Soldiers to a million doughboys, Pershing’s globe-circling career is a virtual history of the U.S. Army.

He has all but faded from our collective memory: A terse, uncharismatic figure in a drab, old-fashioned uniform. During the war in which he commanded, he accepted no unconditional surrenders, invented no famous strategies. He never defied a president or harbored obvious presidential ambitions. And yet, no other American general ever held significant command positions in so many diverse theaters of war. No American general besides George Washington ever held such high rank. None ever commanded so many different types of troops, from one of the nation’s last all-black combat regiments to the first U.S. ground force to fight in Europe. And probably no American officer ever went on so stoically doing his duty after enduring such appalling personal tragedy.

He was General of the Armies John J. “Black Jack” Pershing, commander of the American Expeditionary Forces (AEF) in World War I. Over the course of his 38-year career, he fought Apaches in New Mexico, Sioux in the Dakota Territory, the Spanish in Cuba, the Moros in Mindanao, Pancho Villa in Mexico and the Germans in France. Along the way, he would pick up a law degree, a teaching position at West Point, a mistress in Paris and a Pulitzer Prize for his memoirs of the Great War. He had a knack for being in the right place at momentous times—Wounded Knee, San Juan Hill, the Argonne—and for influencing important people. He would command most of the generals who would shape the American century. Among his aides, and friends, he would count both George C. Marshall and George Patton, and he would find occasion to personally dress down Douglas MacArthur—however unfairly. And in his final command, he made decisions that would have enormous ramifications for American foreign policy to this day.

Pershing was a small-town boy, born in Laclede, Mo., on September 13, 1860, to a staunchly Unionist store- keeper and his wife. His earliest memory was of a deadly raid on his hometown by Confederate bushwhackers. His father survived but was ruined by the Panic of 1873. John was left to scratch out an education as best he could, working a farm with his younger brother when he was just 13, then teaching first black and then white schoolchildren while still a teenager himself. His ambition was to become a lawyer, but when he won an academic competition for the right to apply to West Point, he grabbed at the chance and left his home state for the first time.

Pershing graduated from the Point in 1886, near the middle of his class academically, but with the highest leadership honors as captain of the Corps of Cadets. He was a natural officer, both in spirit and appearance. In every photograph, at every stage of his life, he looked like a caricature of his profession. As biographer Gene Smith put it, “As an immaculate and snappy and severe and disciplined soldier of perfect military bearing, he was unsurpassable.”

Pershing demanded this severity—a constant emphasis on proper drill, dress, demeanor, readiness, attitude—both of himself and those he commanded. It would become a hallmark of his career, carried, at two critical junctures, to extremes that threatened to alienate all those around him. During his year as a tactical officer at West Point, he handed out so many demerits that the cadets subjected him to “silencing”—falling mute whenever Pershing set foot in the academy mess hall. They also saddled him with his nickname, not the newspaper-sanitized version, but the infinitely more derisive “Nigger Jack.” He was undeterred. In World War I, commanding a force that would number more than 2 million men, most of them newly drafted, Pershing issued the impossible order that the Point’s standards would apply to everyone: “The rigid attention, the upright bearing, attention to detail, uncomplaining obedience to instruction required of the cadet will be required of every officer and soldier of our armies in France.” Even a jilted fiancée—George Patton’s sister—would describe him at this time as “a little tin god on wheels.”

And yet, Pershing was a surpassingly adaptable soldier, one who continually saw beyond the parameters of his profession. It was as if his reliance on discipline and drill were a grip he kept on his own deeply passionate and inquiring nature— one he tightened whenever he feared it might fly out of control. This served him best when he had to struggle vigorously to keep his very command—the greatest command in U.S. history to that point.

He could not have anticipated any such challenges at the outset. Lieutenant Pershing graduated into a U.S. Army that consisted of fewer than 25,000 men, most of them assigned to desolate forts throughout the rapidly vanishing Western frontier. Its officer corps, just 2,000 strong, was hopelessly stagnant. Pershing himself took 15 years just to rise to captain. He spent much of his career fruitlessly chasing various hostiles across the empty Western landscape—Chief Mangus’ Apaches through the hills and mesas of New Mexico; Chief Big Foot’s Sioux across the Dakota Territory during the Ghost Dance uprising; Pancho Villa through the dust of Chihuahua; a band of Cree attempting to return to Montana from Canada.

In between, he duly provided the other eclectic services expected of an American officer at the time, spending four years teaching and drilling cadets at the University of Nebraska. He seldom complained about any of it. Not the loneliness and isolation of the distant forts; not the daunting weather extremes or trivial nature of many of his duties. He remained, instead, doggedly self-reliant, flexible and observant—all qualities that would serve him well. He didn’t just adapt to the West; he seemed to love it, including its native peoples. The treatment of the Indians, he would write, constituted “the most cruel, unjust, blackest page of American history”—even as he pursued some of them relentlessly. Later, he would fight a remarkably successful campaign against Islamic insurgents in a complex civil war halfway around the globe. He was a romantic without illusions, always eager to study, understand and even sympathize with the dizzying array of peoples he was supposed to fight.

Everything seemed to fascinate him. In a time when an officer’s career promised neither riches nor glory, Pershing made the most of it. Sent the long way around to fight the Moros in the Philippines, he visited with Parisian art students in the Latin Quarter and perused the Louvre and Versailles, where he would one day have to battle for the independence of America’s greatest army. Returning from his post as military attaché in Tokyo, Pershing took his young family on the newly completed Trans-Siberian Railway to Moscow, toured St. Petersburg, Berlin and the Waterloo battlefield, and lived for several months in Tours while trying to improve his French. A ladies’ man, he enjoyed (successively) a loving marriage and a loving, decades-long affair with a French-Romanian painter—and perhaps some briefer interludes that threatened to ruin his career and reputation.

They didn’t, in part because Pershing was also adept at making the right connections. Like Dwight Eisenhower, he was a consummately political general who advanced by not indulging in the spiteful politics of a peacetime army. It was no coincidence that he won the two biggest promotions of his career from two presidents—Theodore Roosevelt and Woodrow Wilson—who could not have been more different in temperament or loathed each other more. But then Pershing was always able to make the best of a situation. Stuck in Lincoln, Neb., for four years teaching military science to farm boys, he used the opportunity to get his law degree, pass the Nebraska bar, lead his charges to a national drill championship…and make friends with a congressman named George Meiklejohn, whose ambition of becoming assistant secretary of war Pershing helped to fulfill.

Thirty-five years old by the time his stint in Nebraska ended, still a bachelor, still a lieutenant nine years after leaving the Point, Pershing considered taking up the law. Instead, he accepted what a lesser man might have seen as yet another demeaning assignment, command of a troop of the 10th Cavalry—the all-black regiment cadets would later deride—at Fort Assinniboine, Mont. His troops seemed to like him, respect him, and gave him their own nickname, “Old Red,” during his two years there. When war broke out with Spain in 1898, Pershing, then stuck in a miserable tenure at West Point, begged for the chance to see action.

Assistant Secretary of War Meiklejohn found an opening in his previous posting, commanding a troop of the 10th Cavalry. The 10th was one of four African-American regiments at the time, commanded by white officers and stationed at Western outposts, as far as possible from white population centers. Getting them into position to invade Cuba was almost a war in itself: The black troops found that the cheering that greeted their troop train at every station stopped abruptly once they crossed into the South. Bivouacked outside Lakeland, Fla., they had to endure the animosity of local whites, who alternated between gawking openly at the sight of armed black men in uniform and vehemently denying them access to restaurants, bars, stores and brothels. Brawls, shootings and even a full-scale riot broke out between black regulars and white citizens and volunteers. Once deployed in Cuba, they had to endure the same poisonous rations, archaic weapons and erratic leadership as the rest of the invasion force in this most precipitous and chaotic of all the nation’s wars.

Pershing picked up a case of malaria in Cuba and was nearly killed in a stream by a Spanish artillery shell that landed close enough to leave him soaking wet. He led his men through the jungle and then in the desperate, improvised rush up San Juan Heights on the left of Teddy Roosevelt’s Rough Riders.

“If it had not been for the Negro cavalry, the Rough Riders would have been exterminated,” one of Teddy’s men claimed later. “We officers of the 10th Cavalry could have taken our black heroes in our arms. They had again fought their way into our affections, as they had fought their way into the hearts of the American people,” Pershing exulted.

In this, he could not have been more wrong, but he won a Silver Star, a captaincy—at last—and a command in the ensuing savage war in the Philippines. There, Pershing fought a strikingly modern counterinsurgency campaign against the fiercely independent Islamic Moro peoples. He alternated patient negotiation with the ruthless reduction of Moro strongholds, yet openly admired the intelligence, customs and even the cuisine of those he fought.

Pershing’s work in Mindanao won him the public praise of now- President Roosevelt, the man he had followed up Kettle Hill, who was intent on instituting military promotions based on merit rather than time served. In 1906 he raised Pershing from captain to general over 862 senior officers, making him military governor of Mindanao. Soon after, a story broke in the press that Pershing had kept a querida, or “sweetheart,” while on that first posting in Mindanao, fathered two children by her and subsequently offered her hush money not to expose him. It would not be the last time accusations concerning an affair threatened Pershing’s career (the next concerned an heiress who would become Douglas MacArthur’s first wife). He never quite denied the charges, but the War Department dismissed them out of hand. True or not, they were transparently the work of officers jealous of Pershing’s promotion.

In 1905 Pershing married Helen Frances “Frankie” Warren, the daughter of a wealthy, powerful U.S. senator from Wyoming. It was another propitious connection, but also seems to have been a love match. Frankie, nearly 20 years Pershing’s junior, was devoted to him, bearing him three daughters and a son in the first seven years of their marriage, while following him around the world without complaint. Spirited, loyal and intrepid, she was living with the children in the dilapidated officers barracks of San Francisco’s Presidio on August 27, 1915, just a week from joining Pershing at his latest post, at Fort Bliss in El Paso. In the early morning hours, a fire swept through their rooms, suffocating Frankie and the couple’s three girls, ages 3 to 9. Only their son, 6-year-old Warren, survived.

It was a devastating blow, one made worse by the fact that Pershing blamed himself for the suspected cause of the fire, a dining room floor he’d recently had varnished that had caught fire when some coals fell out of a grate. This supremely self-controlled officer was reduced to screaming and weeping openly before friends and junior officers, exclaiming, “I can understand the loss of one member of the family, but not nearly all!” Those around him feared he might go mad.

Yet within weeks Pershing was back on duty at Fort Bliss. He was needed there—and unbeknownst to him, he now stood on the verge of a dizzying chain of events that would shoot him to the top of his profession. His rise began with the Punitive Expedition, the campaign against the famous Mexican bandit chieftain Pancho Villa that must have seemed to Pershing yet another hopeless pursuit. For months prior, Pershing had conducted his patient brand of diplomacy to keep the revolution that had been raging in Mexico from crossing the border. He had boasted particular success cultivating Villa, who posed grinning for pictures with Pershing, and kept hands off American interests.

That changed when President Wilson, without consulting Pershing, allowed troops of a rival Mexican faction to cross American soil by rail, outflank Villa and largely annihilate his army. Vengeful and desperate, Villa responded by trying to widen the war, pulling 19 American engineers off a train in Chihuahua and murdering them by the railbed, then launching a bloody night raid against the garrison town of Columbus, N.M. Pershing was ordered to bring Villa to justice. Thus he would become the first, but far from last, American officer over the course of the century ordered to pursue a hazy objective, under an even cloudier set of restrictions. He was authorized by the deputy chief of staff to attack Mexican towns if Villa and his men were there, but he was not to use the Mexican railroads to resupply his force. His troops were to “do as soldiers in the circumstance must do,” and if Villa’s troops broke up into smaller bands, “our people must more or less scatter in order to follow him.”

Somehow, Pershing was able to “more or less” decode these equivocal directions and conduct a campaign that adroitly avoided setting off a full-scale war, but satisfied the administration’s need to save face. The Punitive Expedition punished its way 350 miles into Mexico, diligently pursuing Villa for 11 months and dodging several ambushes. Pershing’s command eventually reached a total of 11,000 men, almost a tenth of the U.S. standing army. He saw firsthand just how short even its best units were of the latest arms, vehicles, planes; how unprepared it was to fight a modern war.

This was information he would need. Within two months of Pershing’s return to El Paso in 1917, the U.S. had declared war on the Central Powers. Pershing was clearly the only senior officer young enough, fit enough and experienced enough to lead the planned AEF, and he had impressed superiors with his handling of the delicate assignment in Mexico. Yet the appointment was probably an even better choice than Wilson and Secretary of War Newton Baker realized, for it would be as much a diplomatic mission as a military one.

Pershing shipped out almost immediately, arriving in England on June 8, 1917. There and in France, he was greeted by giddy, cheering mobs and in response made all the right gestures: kissing Napoléon’s sword and laying a wreath on Lafayette’s tomb (where, as Pershing always insisted, it was his paymaster, Major Charles E. Stanton, who actually uttered the words, “Lafayette, we are here!”)

The only trouble was he had no one with him, beyond a hastily assembled staff of some 187 officers and civilians. Nor would an army materialize anytime soon. Despite all the lobbying for preparedness over the past three years by Teddy Roosevelt and others, the country had largely chosen to ignore the possibility it could be dragged into the most terrible war in human history. Months, maybe a year, would be needed before any sizable American force could be assembled, trained, equipped and shipped to Europe—and it wasn’t clear the Allies had that much time.

Even as Pershing arrived in France, the feckless Nivelle Offensive was grinding to a halt. The traumatized French army had suffered another 200,000 casualties over the course of two months, and mutinies would sweep through 54 combat divisions. Only the strictest military secrecy kept the enemy from realizing this and breaking through to Paris. That fall Russia capitulated to the Bolsheviks and then to the Germans, and the Italians collapsed at Caporetto. Some 265 German and Austrian divisions, Pershing feared, might now be massed on the Western Front for one last overwhelming offensive as soon as the weather improved.

By the winter of 1918, a quarter-million doughboys had arrived in France, but for the most part they lacked artillery, planes and transport. They were, in short, not an army. The British and French argued that they didn’t need to be. The Americans could be fed into the Allied armies as they arrived by the battalion, platoon or company, some 50 to 150 men at a time. The Europeans would supply all munitions and any officers above the rank of captain.

Pershing adamantly opposed that idea from the start. “The United States will put its troops on the battlefront when it shall have formed an army worthy of the American people,” he had announced soon after coming to France, and he stuck to his guns. One by one, they came to remonstrate with him— first the generals, Haig and Foch and Pétain, then the premiers, Lloyd George and Clemenceau. Even King George V traveled to Paris to tell Pershing he had to give his men over.

“I should have liked to argue with the king and set him right,” Pershing joked later, but the arguments grew more urgent and ferocious as the German offensive neared. Pershing was visiting Pétain at his headquarters at Compiègne in late March when he heard it coming, a low, ominous rumble of artillery that shook the furniture and rattled the maps in the French general’s office. Some 64 German divisions went over the top, driving a wedge 45 miles wide and 55 miles deep into the Allied lines, wrecking an entire British army and taking 90,000 prisoners. Another 65,000 poilus surrendered along the Aisne at the end of May, their retreating comrades crying out, “La guerre est finie!” as they streamed back from the front. German aircraft and artillery were now bombarding Paris.

The Allies raged at Pershing, appealed over his head to Washington, confiding in each other, in their diaries and in their memoirs that the American was an egomaniac, an incompetent. Pershing was “unable properly to train or command his troops,” Chief of the Imperial General Staff Sir William Robertson reported to the British War Cabinet. Marshal Foch, the newly anointed supreme Allied commander, warned Pershing that the British would be pushed into the sea and the French to the Loire, while the Americans would be left trying “in vain to organize on lost battlefields over the graves of Allied soldiers.” Prime Minister Lloyd George found Pershing’s stand “maddening” and seethed over his “invincible obstinacy” and “professional egotism.” Matters came to a head at a heated conference at Versailles, on June 1 and 2, 1918, when George told Pershing to his face, “We will refer this to your president.”

“Refer it to the president and be damned,” Pershing answered. He later argued more judiciously to Foch, “The time may come when the American army will have to stand the brunt of this war,” and insisted that meanwhile he would not “fritter away our resources.”

Pershing could be confident of his own standing, thanks to the un- wavering support of Wilson and Baker. But he alone still bore full responsibility for what was, in the words of biographer Richard O’Connor, “one of the most prolonged and coldly calculated gambles in military history.” It was based on several assumptions, one of them naïve, the rest highly perceptive. The American commander was understandably wary of British and French trench-warfare tactics, which through 1917 had cost the Allies over 2.5 million more casualties than they had inflicted along the Western Front. He also believed that no matter how many troops the Germans amassed along the Western Front, they would be unable to break through. Where Pershing was naïve was in maintaining that long-range rifle training and “fire and movement” tactics could replace trench warfare. The Great War was the war of the machine gun and the hand grenade—something his European allies had learned years before. Finally, Pershing constantly reiterated that the freshness and morale of U.S. troops—fighting together, under their own flags and commanders, uninfected by French and British pessimism—would also be instrumental in winning the war. In this, the fighting would bear him out, as inexperienced but enthusiastic American troops were able to break through against exhausted and demoralized German veterans.

Politically, Pershing’s position was unassailable. The U.S. approach to World War I must seem incomprehensible to many Americans today. That first American expedition on European soil was also the last time U.S. forces would fight as a junior partner, at least formally under the direction of a supreme commander who was a foreign officer. To do more than this would have been to seriously endanger the integrity of the AEF’s mission. The French and British generals had been reckless to the point of obscenity with their men’s lives. Who could know what they might do with a limitless supply of other people’s sons— and the consequences could have been enormous: The slaughter of vast numbers of doughboys at the behest of foreign officers might well have destroyed American support for the war. Even if it had not, the bitter memory of such losses could well have tipped the scales against intervention in World War II.

Yet as successive German offensives thundered on through the spring and summer of 1918, Pershing realized he would have to make some sort of compromise. If the Americans did not yet have an army in place, Pershing at last conceded, they could at least fight in division strength in coordination with the Allies. Starting on May 28, ever-increasing numbers of American troops— commanded by their own officers— swung into action. Throughout the rest of the spring and summer of 1918, they fought with considerable skill and élan, blunting the German thrust at Château-Thierry and counterattacking at Belleau Wood and Soissons.

Names of these battles and others soon became household words in the States, but the claims of American newspapers that they had “saved” France were exaggerated; at Château-Thierry the AEF had provided only two of the 45 Allied divisions used to stop the German advance. Ironically, the results bore out Pershing’s contention that the French and British could hold out until an American army was ready, but the pressure to hand over his men piecemeal continued.

As many as 250,000 doughboys were arriving every month now, and the logistical problems alone were overwhelming. Pershing responded as he always had, by working all the harder at his Chaumont headquarters, constantly touring the U.S. positions and encampments and paying more attention than ever to detail and discipline. He was equally unsparing of anyone under his command, lambasting or replacing some of his oldest friends from the regular army when he felt they were not up to their tasks. This could become excessive. Encountering the disheveled, weary Rainbow Division just after it served a punishing 82 straight days in the front lines, followed by a 37-mile march through the mud, he bellowed at Colonel Douglas MacArthur that his troops were “a disgrace!” and “just about the worst I have seen.”

To the men, Pershing was “that sonuvabitch [who] roared past our column in his staff car, spattering every one of us with mud and water from head to foot.” He seemed forever cold and unbending, even uncaring. Pershing contributed to this image, working hard to maintain his imposing aura as commander, posing ramrod straight for all photographs and even keeping his pockets empty to emphasize the trim of his uniform. At the same time, he was willing to listen to junior officers or men who had a legitimate complaint or suggestion; retained both his temper and a sense of humor; and worried constantly over the state of his soldiers. It was as if he were trying to physically impart to them his own immeasurable pride, self-control and self-confidence.

“When you stumbled upon a lost American doughboy in a godforsaken Lorraine hamlet,” the journalist Frank H. Simonds wrote, “his bearing, the set of his tunic, his salute, all authentically recalled the general who sat in Chaumont.”

By September he finally had an army, the First American Army—at 550,000 men, the largest in U.S. history, even if its supporting artillery and planes were still supplied by the French. It quickly crushed the Germans’ Saint-Mihiel salient, then turned within two weeks to assault the Meuse-Argonne sector, an area the enemy had made, in the words of Pershing’s chief of staff, James Harbord, “the most comprehensive system of leisurely prepared field defense known to history.” Here, Pershing’s remaining illusions about the murderous nature of trench warfare were shattered. The Argonne was a bloody 47-day slog, one in which Pershing committed close to 1.2 million troops and absorbed 117,000 casualties fighting a much smaller force.

In the end, though, the Germans broke—and it was the end. By the close of the battle, they were left without a single reserve division in the sector, and Hindenburg himself later wrote that the Meuse-Argonne was “our most sensitive point” and that “the American infantry in the Argonne won the war.” It may have been more a coup de grâce than the decisive blow, but the war was over within days, much to Pershing’s chagrin. Alone among the Allied war councils, he had insisted throughout on winning an unconditional surrender from Germany, not merely an armistice.

“We shouldn’t have done it,” he commented at the time. “If they had given us another 10 days, we would have rounded up the entire German army, captured it, humiliated it….The German troops today are marching back into Germany announcing that they have never been defeated….What I dread is that Germany doesn’t know that she was licked.”

It was a prescient insight. In 1944, while living out the final years of his long, pleasant retirement at Walter Reed Army Hospital, Pershing received a birthday message from another President Roosevelt that read in part, “None of us will forget that in 1918 you wanted to go through to Berlin. How right you were!” Such was the vindication of a leader who had taken care to understand both his allies and his enemies.

For further reading, Kevin Baker recommends: Black Jack Pershing, by Richard O’Connor, Pershing, General of the Armies, by Donald Smythe, and Until the Last Trumpet Sounds, by Gene Smith.

Originally published in the October 2007 issue of Military History. To subscribe, click here.

Following the war, he served as Army Chief of Staff.

He died at Walter Reed Army Medical Center in Washington on July 15, 1948. His funeral service, one of only a handfull ever held at the Memorial Amphitheater in Arlington National Cemetery, was attended by literally thousands of American citizens as well as by the leaders of government and the military. He was buried, as was his wish, under a simple white gravestone in Section 34 of Arlington National Cemetery, near the gravesites of his 'Doughboys' from World War I.

His grandsons, Army Second Lieutenant Richard Warren Pershing, who was killed-in-action in Vietnam in 1968, and Colonel John Warren Pershing III, are buried beside him.

PERSHING, JOHN J.
Brigadier General, U.S. Army
Commander
ecorations U.S. Army, Supplement V, 1941
Home Town: Laclede, Missouri
Date of Action: June 15, 1913

Citation:

The Distinguished Service Cross is presented to John J. Pershing, Brigadier General, U.S. Army, for extraordinary heroism in action against hostile fanatical Moros at Mount Bagsak, Jolo, Philippine Islands, on June 15, 1913.

Brigadier General Pershing personally assumed command of the assaulting line at the most critical period when only about 15 yards from the last Moro position. His encouragement and splendid example of personal heroism resulted in a general advance and the prompt capture of the hostile stronghold.

In the World War I era, no American military figure was better known than Gen. John J. 'Black Jack' Pershing.

So it was no surprise that reporters gathered like vultures circling a fresh roadkill when word got out in 1938 that Pershing was dying at a sanitorium in Tucson.

Pershing had accomplished the near impossible, whipping an ill-prepared American military into an effective, disciplined, 2 million-member fighting machine in World War I and then leading it to victory as its field commander.

The late Reba D. Grubb, who compiled a massive, two-volume history - 'Portrait of Progress, A Story of Tucson Medical Center' - collected details of Pershing's presence in the Old Pueblo.

He had been appointed chief of staff in 1921 and retired three years later as 'General of the Armies.' Thereafter, he resisted the temptation to get into politics and declined to make public strategy suggestions about the uneasy world of the 1930s and 1940s.

Grubb wrote that the general and his sister, May, were 'wintering' in Tucson in 1938, staying at the popular El Conquistador Hotel in February when he became ill. He was taken to the Desert Sanitorium of the Southwest, as TMC was known in its original incarnation.

The retired general was given medication and ordered to rest, but he was hospitalized at the sanitorium on February 22, attended by Col. Shelly U. Marietta of the Army Medical Corps, a nationally recognized heart specialist flown in from San Antonio at the family's request.

Pershing was reported to have suffered 'acute damage' to his heart muscles, with blood pressure dropping and a fever rising. He became comatose, and EKG testing showed 'progressive myocardial degeneration.'

In other words, Pershing, then 78, was dying.

His son and other relatives were summoned, and as word spread, a horde of radio commentators, newspaper reporters, Army officers and others gathered, wanting to be the first to tell the world that the old warrior had died.

The sanitorium's telephone system was overtaxed as calls came in, and more than two dozen newshounds hovered around the switchboard, hoping to assure themselves of an open line. They mooched cigarettes from each other and from visitors to the hospital and relied on the charity of hospital employees who not only tolerated their presence, but also sustained them with toast and jam, coffee and milk.

The intruders slept where and when they could, sitting in wheelchairs or sprawled on mattresses in the hallways and waiting room.

The rugged old general, known as a strict disciplinarian, regained consciousness, then once again lapsed into a coma. A doctor's statement indicated Pershing's condition 'appeared unfavorable.' His kidneys ceased to function, and uremic poisoning set in. Anxious reporters were told 'the end is approaching.'

Funeral arrangements were put in place, and a special rail car was waiting to transport his body to the East Coast. A World War I uniform Pershing wanted to be buried in was flown to Tucson. School would be dismissed, an honor guard was arranged, and florists stocked extra flowers.
But the old soldier outflanked the vultures.

He improved.

General Black Jack Pershing Biography

On March 2, he sat up and had a breakfast of Farina, though his intravenous tubes remained in place. By March 15, he was allowed out of bed for a brief walk. He soon left for New York City, accompanied by a doctor.

The following fall, fully recuperated, Pershing returned to Desert Sanitorium, bringing a retinue of servants and family members. He did so again in 1940, spending the winter season here.

On July 15, 1948, General of the Armies John J. Pershing died at Walter Reed Hospital in Washington, D.C. He was buried at Arlington National Cemetery.

The overeager reporters who descended on 1938 Tucson had misjudged his determination - and his demise - by a decade.

Over a century has passed since Pershing's birth and more than fifty years since his death, yet his memory stands tall in the land and his name rings firm in the historical echo of his times. General Pershing is the First World War, and the proof of this lies in the fact that after over fifty years no other general's name comes readily to mind when that war is mentioned.

Pershing was born into the opening fanfare of the golden age of Grant, Lee, Sherman, and Jackson -- four names that will stand linked forever before the fact of the preserved Union. Pershing's earliest toddler memories were of Southern bushwhackers raiding his hometown and shooting up the village. He was five years old when Lee surrendered at Appomattox Courthouse.

He grew to manhood and as a junior officer served under Generals Nelson A. Miles, Adna R. Chaffee, John M. Schofield, and William R. Shafter- - four men indelibly associated with the march of America across the shrinking plains, to Cuba and the Orient, while the 19th century wound its way out and the century of great wars came upon us.

In the First World War, however, Pershing played his part without peer-standing alone in his time as history would have it, and with no one to share the fame.

Pershing grew very old and lived on to see the new men come to flower -- MacArthur and Eisenhower, Patton and Stilwell, all of whom he outranked by an active commission as General of the armies by Act of Congress as long as he lived -- but never once did he attempt to put finger in the New War pie. Like a wise old soldier, he spent the Second World War quietly fading away.

In 1944, when Pershing was in Walter Reed Hospital, the Old Man was eighty-four years old, and he had been living up on top of the hospital in his specially-built set of quarters for the three years that the Second World War had been going on. The Old War was pretty far back in history by this time; yet it was a mark of the stature of Pershing that his nurses scheduled receiving hours each morning for seldom less than three or four people who felt impelled, by right of past association and present desire, to call and pay their respects when passing through Washington. It was a mark of the gallantry that never dies in old cavalrymen, one supposes, that the comelier nurses would grin at times and rub themselves where they swore they'd been pinched.

Of all men of his time, he seemed to have an unerring instinct for just where he fitted in the scheme of things. When age came upon him, he met it with the cool dignity that marked his intercourse with even his close friends. He made no effort to inflict his aging mind on the nation as a senior citizen. He wrote no carping, critical books. He did not sell his retired sword to commerce. He was, in essence, a dirt soldier who came up the hard way, but who loved his profession dearly enough to continue the pursuit of excellence in it-- the hard way.

So when his time came, he folded his cloak about him and quietly departed, almost a stranger to the new war that had come upon his country, but forever a part of the careful binding to meet threats that will bring victory once more when the time comes.

Pershing's father, John Fletcher Pershing, was a boss tracklayer for the North Missouri Railroad at Warrenton, Missouri, where he met Ann Elizabeth Thompson. On 22 March 1859, they were married. Soon after, they moved to a shanty on the farm of Judge Meredith Brown near Laclede. John Joseph was born there on 13 September 1860.

When the Civil War began, John Fletcher moved to Laclede and bought Lomax's General Store. He bought two farms, one 80 acres, the other 160 acres, and a lumberyard. He also became the sutler for the 18th Missouri Volunteer Infantry, then quartered at Laclede.

In 1865, a 'select school for small children' was opened in Laclede. John and his brother, James attended this school. Between 1870 and 1873, John Fletcher lost the greater part of his land holdings in speculation, and in 1876 became a traveling salesman. During this time, John Joseph worked on his father's farm and attended school, and later taught the Negro school at Laclede. Throughout this sometimes difficult period, the future General Pershing demonstrated the qualities which would always be paramount in his life: self-possession, competence, level-headedness, dependability, and the ability to see things through.

In October 1879, Pershing became the teacher of the school at Prairie Mound, nine miles from Laclede. During the summers of 1880, 1881, and 1882, he went to the State Normal School at Kirksville, Missouri. In the spring of 1882, Pershing saw an announcement for a competitive examination for an appointment to West Point. He had no desire to become a soldier but he saw an opportunity for an excellent education. On the advice of his sister, he took the examination and won the appointment.

Pershing was not a brilliant scholar. He graduated 30th in a class of 77. But the officers and his classmates at West Point recognized that he had a rare quality of leadership. General Merritt, then Superintendent of West Point, said that Pershing showed early promise of becoming a superb officer. He was elected president of the class of 1886. Each year he held the highest possible rank in the Cadet Battalion. Thirteen years before the Spanish-American War began, Cadet Captain Pershing commanded the Corps of Cadets when it crossed the Hudson from West Point to Garrison to stand at present arms while the funeral train of Ulysses S. Grant rolled slowly by.

Pershing did not think much of army life in peacetime and during his furlough he expressed a desire to take up the study of law. During his last year at the Point, he and four classmates formed a scheme for an irrigation project in Oregon, but nothing ever came of it.

After his graduation from West Point, Pershing was assigned to Troop L, 6th Cavalry, Fort Bayard, New Mexico. He reported for duty on 30 September 1886. He scouted hostile Indians and commanded a detachment which set up a heliograph line 160 miles through the mountains. This latter accomplishment was no small feat. The detachment was out about a month and lived off the country, which was inhabited by hostile Indians.

A group photograph of the 6th United States Cavalry, taken on the club steps at Fort Bayard, New Mexico, show among them the very junior Second Lieutenant Pershing, blue kepi cocked on his light blond head and a kid's grin on his face. For four years in the desert Southwest, he was on active service against the last of the Apaches. He served throughout the Santiago Campaign fighting at San Juan Hill, where he was cited for gallantry 1 July 1898, and for which he was subsequently awarded the Silver Star Medal. In the words of his commanding general, S. M. B. Young, he was 'the coolest man under fire that I ever saw.'

In 1887, Pershing was transferred to Fort Stanton, where he took part in maneuvers. In 1889, he stood second in pistol marksmanship in the California and Arizona divisions of the Cavalry and 22nd in rifle marksmanship in the Army. In 1891, he stood second in pistol and fifth in rifle marksmanship. On 23 November 1890, the 6th Cavalry was ordered to South Dakota. It arrived at Rapid City on 9 December 1890. That winter, a most severe one, was spent in putting down one of the final Sioux uprisings.

On 15 September 1891, Pershing took up his duties as Professor of Military Science and Tactics at the University of Nebraska. During the four years he held this post, he showed qualities of character that were prophetic of the way that he would acquit himself should the Army call him to a bigger role on a bigger stage. This statement is based entirely upon statements and letters contemporaneous with his service at Nebraska when he was still an unknown second lieutenant.

Upon his arrival at Nebraska, Pershing found few men, the interest in the battalion weak, the discipline next to nothing, and the instincts of the faculty and the precedent of the University against the Cadet Corps. The sentiment of the community faculty, and student body (and, in fact, that of the whole nation) was pacifistic. No one thought that there would be another war. The accepted recipe for army-making which William Jennings Bryan made famous and which World War I proved utterly false, was that 'A million men (would) spring to arms overnight.' He could have drawn his pay and courted popularity by drifting with the tide, but he was not made that way. Here as elsewhere, Pershing was a strict disciplinarian.

In 1892, the National Competitive Drills were held in Omaha. Pershing, after much opposition, entered a company. Using Company A as a nucleus, he built up a drill company. It drilled from seven until nine in the morning and from four until seven in the afternoon. In the maiden competition, Company A won the Omaha Cup and $1,500. That same year, Chancellor Canfield requested that Pershing be permitted to remain at the University another year. This request was granted by the War Department. While at Nebraska, Pershing studied law and graduated with the class of 1893.

On 1 October 1895, Pershing was ordered to join his regiment at Fort Assiniboine, Montana. He had been appointed a First Lieutenant in the 10th Cavalry. While on duty in Montana, Pershing was active in rounding up a large group of renegade Creeks and deporting them to Canada.

In June 1897, Pershing was assigned to West Point as an assistant instructor in Tactics. He was not a popular officer there because the cadets thought his discipline was too strict.

On 2 May 1898, after Colonel Henry of the 19th Cavalry had requested it and Major General Miles recommended it, Pershing was relieved from his duties at West Point and joined his Regiment at Tampa as Regimental Quartermaster. Pershing was mentioned in the report of LTC T. A. Baldwin, commander of the 10th Cavalry, to the War Department for his untiring energy, faithfulness, and gallantry. In this report he was also recommended for a brevet commission. On 26 August, Pershing was commissioned Chief Ordnance Officer of volunteers with the rank of Major and was ordered to Washington for that duty. Unfortunately, he was suffering from malaria and was confined at home.

On 10 March 1899, Pershing was placed in charge of the Division of Customs and Insular Affairs, a new division within the War Department. It was created to meet the emergency caused by the necessity of providing the military government for our new insular possessions: Cuba, Puerto Rico, the Philippines, and Guam.

On 17 August 1899, he was ordered to Manila, the Philippines, to report to the Commander of the Eighth Army Corps for duty. On 1 December, he was assigned to the Department of Mindanao and Jolo. In cleaning up the Moro insurrectionists, Pershing, as Adjutant General of his Department, was in active service from 27 November 1900 until 1 March 1901. He participated in the advance up the Cagayan River to destroy the stronghold of Macajambo. The expert handling of these expeditions was noted even in Washington: Secretary of War Elihu Root, the father of the Command and General Staff School at Fort Leavenworth, in 1903 said on record to D. Avery Andrews: 'If your friend Pershing doesn't look out, he will find himself in the Brigadier General class very soon.'

On 2 February 1901, Pershing was made a Captain and was transferred to the 1st Cavalry. In August of that year, it was ordered back to the U.S. Pershing applied for transfer to the 15th Cavalry, then taking up its station in the Philippines. The request was granted, and he served in various departmental roles until 11 October, when he took charge of the post at Iligan.

There, Pershing won the confidence of and made friends with a few Datos from the north of Lake Lanao. He learned the Moro language well enough to converse with the Moros.

After LTC Baldwin had advanced to Lake Lanao, captured Fort Padapatan, and founded Camp Vicars (named in honor of LT Thomas A. Vicars, who was killed during the attack on the Fort), Pershing was sent to the camp. He acted as Intelligence Officer and on 30 June 1901, he succeeded LTC Baldwin as Commander of Camp Vicars, the Colonel having been made Brigadier General.

On 28 September 1901, after numerous attacks had been made on the outposts of Camp Vicars, Pershing began the first of a series of four campaigns against the Moros. On the fourth one, he completely circled Lake Lanao, a feat never before accomplished by a white man.

General Black Jack Pershing In Mexico

After three and a half years of active service, Pershing was ordered home in June 1903. Before his departure, a movement was carried out among the officers of the Army to have Pershing made a Brigadier General as due recognition of his services and his demonstrated military ability. This movement was carried out by men best fit to judge Pershing's worth as a General Officer: Major Generals Davis, Summer, Murray, and Wood; Brigadier Generals Sanger, Burt, and Pandal.

While in Washington, after his return from the Philippines, Pershing met Miss Helen Frances Warren, whom he later married. Miss Warren's father was a Senator from Wyoming.

When Congress met on 7 December 1903, President Roosevelt, in his message to Congress, mentioned Pershing by name. It was in connection with that portion of his message dealing with the promotion system of the Army. He said that when men render such a service as Captain Pershing did in the Philippines, it should be possible to reward him without at once jumping him to the rank of Brigadier General. This is one of the few occasions when an Army officer has been mentioned by name in the President's message to Congress.

In 1904, Pershing was assigned to duty in Oklahoma City as Assistant Chief of Staff, Southwest Division. That fall, while on leave, he visited the Warrens at their ranch in Wyoming. On 31 October 1904, he was assigned as a student at at the Army War College and was ordered back to Washington.

When Congress met in December, the Warrens were again in Washington, and Pershing was assigned as a military attache in Tokyo. This assignment brought his long courtship with Miss Warren to a close. They were married on 26 January 1905, and sailed for Tokyo the following day. Pershing spent most of his nine-month tour of duty in Manchuria observing the Russo-Japanese War.

Shortly after Pershing's first child, Helen Elizabeth, was born, President Roosevelt promoted Captain Pershing to Brigadier General. However, Pershing's long years of service, his splendid record, and his achievements in the Philippines were all forgotten by critics. They also forgot that three years had passed since the President had urged Congress to remove the necessity of such promotions to reward merit. Also overlooked were the precedents for this promotion. Major Tasker H. Bliss, Captains Leonard Wood, Frederick D. Grant, Frederick Funston and Albert L. Mills had all been promoted to Brigadier General, the latter just before Pershing himself. All of these promotions were made in the considered interest of Army efficiency at a time when the service was bound by passively entrenched rank, living on the inertia of seniority. The many critics remembered only that Pershing was the son-in-law of Senator Francis E. Warren, Chairman of the Senate Committee on Military Affairs. 'His promotion,' they declared, 'was a flagrant example of pull.' In answer to such criticism, Roosevelt said, 'To promote a man because he married a Senator's daughter would be an infamy; to refuse him promotion for the same reason would be an equal infamy.'

Shortly after his promotion, General Pershing was asked whether he would prefer an assignment in the Philippines or to command the Department of the Gulf. He replied that he preferred active service and would leave the assignment to the War Department. Unfortunately, the War Department had some trouble seeing a clear decision through all the red tape. Pershing was ordered to report to San Francisco for further orders. He left Tokyo and went to San Francisco. He had just arrived there when he was directed to go to the Philippines. He had to get special permission to go by way of Tokyo to get his family and property.

Upon reaching the Philippines, Pershing was placed in command of Fort McKinley, near Manila. On 24 March 1908, Pershing's second child, Anne, was born at Baguio, the summer capital of the Philippines.

In the fall of 1908, war seemed imminent in the Balkans. Pershing was directed to proceed to Paris and, if war broke out, to go as a military observer. He and his family were in Paris for two months. When the hostilities in the Balkans died down in 1909, they returned to the United States.

Meanwhile the Moro situation in Mindanao and the Sulu Islands had again become troublesome. Governor Smith of the Philippines recommended that General Pershing return, but due to complications arising from malaria that Pershing had contracted in Cuba and the Philippines, he was prevented from returning there. He requested that no one be permanently assigned to the post.

On 24 June 1909, Pershing's only son, Francis Warren, was born in Cheyenne, Wyoming, Pershing's only child born in the United States.

In October of that year, Pershing, now recovered from his illness, sailed for the Philippines to take charge of the Moro Province as Military Governor. Under his leadership, the hostile Moros were disarmed, by peaceful methods when possible and by force when necessary. Peace was gradually restored.

On 20 May 1912, Pershing's fourth and last child, Mary Margaret, was born. Soon afterwards, the entire Pershing family was baptized into the Episcopal faith by Bishop Brent, a close friend of Pershing.

In 1913, General Huerta had seized the reins of the Mexican government. The United States refused to recognize the new government and diplomatic relations were severed. General Pershing, about to sail for home after four years of service in the Philippines, applied to the War Department for assignment to active service in the event of hostilities with Mexico. When Pershing arrived in Honolulu on 20 December 1913, he received orders to report to the 8th Brigade at San Francisco, the first Brigade on the roster in case of 'hostilities.'

On 20 January 1914, Pershing, with the 8th Brigade, began patrolling the Mexican Border, leaving his wife and his four young children in quarters at the Presidio of San Francisco. After a year's stay at Fort Bliss, Pershing decided to bring his family there. The arrangements were almost complete when a tremendous tragedy occurred at the Presidio on 27 August 1915: the quarters were destroyed by fire and Mrs. Pershing and the three little girls died in the holocaust. Only his son Warren survived. What this does to a man, no other can say. At best, a part of him must seal up forever, wherein the dead never grow up or grow older; only the broken heart that holds them in anguish does.

This tragedy was a part of the great and natural dignity of Pershing, of which Heywood Brown once wrote: 'They will never call him Papa Pershing.' It was dignity that impelled only the long- service soldiers to call him 'Black Jack' as a subtle accolade, not in derogation.

After the funerals at Cheyenne, Pershing returned to Fort Bliss with his son Warren and his sister Mae and took up his duties as commanding officer again. He sought and found solace in hard work. He finally regained mastery of himself, though it was feared for a while that he might lose his mind.

On 15 March 1915, Pershing led an expedition into Mexico to capture Pancho Villa. This expedition was ill-equipped and hampered by a lack of supplies due to the breakdown of the Quartermaster Corps. Although there had been talk of war on the border for years, no steps had been taken to provide for the handling of supplies for an expedition. Despite this and other hindrances, such as the lack of aid from the former Mexican government, and their refusal to allow American troops to transport troops and supplies over their railroads, Pershing organized and commanded the Mexican Punitive Expedition, a combined armed force of 10,000 men that penetrated 350 miles into Mexico and routed Pancho Villa's revolutionaries, severely wounding the bandit himself. There is a prophetic photograph surviving from those days: a picture taken at Nogales of Generals Obregon, Villa and Pershing. Behind Pershing and to his left stands First Lieutenant George S. Patton, Jr.

On 3 April 1917, the United States declared war on Germany. On 7 May, Pershing was ordered to Washington, and later that month he sailed to Europe with the nucleus of a General Staff.

The story of Pershing's appointment to the command of the American Expeditionary Force is not generally known, for it is loosely assumed that he fell into it naturally after the death of General Frederick Funston. But this is not so. Newton D. Baker, Wilson's Secretary of War, had had no previous acquaintance with Army matters before his Cabinet appointment. The Chief of Staff in 1917 was Major General Hugh L. Scott, a distinguished and capable officer, but in his 64th year, faced statutory retirement in a matter of months. When it became imperative to select a field commander, Secretary Baker took home the complete records of all general officers and spent almost 48 continuous hours examining them minutely against each other. It is a testament to Pershing's greatness that when Secretary Baker announced his choice, he was completely certain in his selection of General Pershing; there was no second on the record.

There was no American Expeditionary Force per se for Pershing to command at the time of his selection. The Regular Army had perhaps 25,000 men in 1917, and there was no divisional organization except for the hastily scratched-up 1st Division, elements of which were still landing in St. Nazaire in early July, three months after the declaration of war. There was no reserve as we know it today except the Officer's Training Camps of Plattsburg Movement. To attend one of these camps, prior to the declaration of war, a man had to buy his own uniforms, pay for his own food and incidentals, and transport himself to and from his home. He received no pay, but he could get an Officer's Reserve Corps commission and wear ORC in bronze on his collar. The National Guard outfits in most states were separate companies that quite possibly had never trained in regiment. A long enough time had elapsed since the Spanish-American War that politics had crept back into the selection of senior officers, taking precedence over qualifications.

Pershing was now entering upon the most difficult task of his career. He had the unenviable job of producing a completely organized army. It would take months, possibly a year, to get that Army into the field. Pershing soon found out that the English and French did not even want an American army; they wanted men.

Nobody but the Regular Army ever trained progressively for war in the United States before World War I, and the regulars never trained on the massive scale that European armies had since the days of Frederick the Great. The prevailing American belief was that if war came, one just blithely sprang to arms overnight. Again, in the words of William Jennings Bryan, 'never mind what arms you sprang to, or who fed you breakfast the next morning.'

Pershing's task was doubly difficult. Not only did he have to deny the men that the French and English needed, but he had to depend on those allies for supplies. The first divisions that arrived in France had been trained by the French, who expected this to be a permanent arrangement, and wanted the American troops to be brigaded with the French, under command of French Divisional Officers. This Pershing absolutely would not allow.

Pershing was not an 'overnight springer.' Having previously commanded four brigade-sized expeditions in hostile territory, he respected the supply and administration 'which come before all glory and without which there is no military diversion of fighting a war.' Furthermore, Pershing had spent many years training men. The two-sided maneuver, which later became Army doctrine, was modestly born in his unit at Fort Bayard, New Mexico, in 1886, when General Nelson Miles instituted 'raiding games' wherein one cavalry troop took the part of the raiding Apaches and the others countered their efforts. Pershing carried on the method of the Philippines-- building training into pyramidal structure from the individual through units to combined arms--and employed physically opposed maneuvers of two counterbodies of troops.

Pershing was one of the leaders in the movement for the establishment of a Supreme Commander, as opposed to a Supreme War Council. He also demanded that the American Army (then still in the process of building) should be included in the agreement.

Though they began randomly in the National Army of 1917- 1918 (some men were overseas two weeks after induction), the methods and training programs that Pershing inaugurated early in 1917 were the beginnings of the masterfully refined mobilization training plan of 1941-1945 that produced the finest, most far-flung army the world had ever seen. In spite of great pressure, official, diplomatic and otherwise, Pershing had been able to produce an integrated fighting force of two million men in 18 months, and to fight with it himself as field commander in the last few months of the war.

America's prominent position in world affairs today is largely the result of Pershing's activities in Europe. If he had less firmly insisted on an independent American Army, and American soldiers were divided among English and French forces, the power of the American government at the peace conference would have been negligible and the American nation would not likely be the world power it is today.

In the spring of 1918, the Germans began their last desperate drive on Allied positions. Realizing that a united front was necessary to stem this attack, Pershing placed the American troops under the command of General Foch of France, who had assumed the Supreme Command of Allied armies in Europe. Under the weight of the superior and brilliantly led fighting force, the German were crushed. Celebrations and decorations heralded the return of General Pershing and his Army to his country.

General Black Jack Pershing Quotes

General Pershing cannot be too highly commended for his attitude and actions since the war. He did not make the mistake of trying to tell the nation how it should be run, and above all, he did what few victorious generals have ever done: he stayed out of politics.

In 1921, Pershing was appointed Chief of Staff of the United States Army. In 1924, at the age of sixty-four, he retired from active duty with the title of 'General of the Armies' bestowed on him by Congress.

Ill health forced the famous soldier to retire from all public service soon after his retirement. Held in the highest esteem by contemporary members of his profession, his advice was sought on military matters despite his retirement. He advocated a program of military preparedness for his country and throughout the remaining years of his life he kept in close contact with military developments.

On 15 July 1948, John Joseph Pershing passed away at Walter Reed Hospital in Washington, D.C. Tributes of the greatest men of our time were given him on the days following his death. But men of the Army will always pay tribute to General John J. Pershing. A life such as his is a challenge to his followers in the military profession, and they have accepted that challenge. John Joseph Pershing, soldier and citizen, will live forever in the memory of the men of our victorious country.

General of the Armies John J. Pershing, then the nation's highest ranking military official, died on 15 July 1948, at the age of eighty-seven, at the Army's Walter Reed General Hospital, Washington, D.C. He had been a patient there since 6 May 1941, residing in a small wing set aside for him.

A plan to honor General Pershing with a State Funeral had been written ten years earlier when he seemed near death. After his recovery, the plan was closely guarded and over the decade following was substantially revised to incorporate changes directed by the Army Chief of Staff with the consent of F. Warren Pershing, the general's son. The version finally used was prepared in 1945 (and classified Top Secret), but it included some changes made later.

The plan met the preferences of General Pershing. Years before his death he had expressed a wish to be buried in Arlington National Cemetery and had selected a small hill in a southeastern section of the cemetery as his gravesite. The ground sloped away from this site to a level plot containing the graves of hundreds of men whom he had commanded in World War I. A military man for sixty-six years, General Pershing had insisted upon a purely military funeral. Accordingly, the plan restricted organizational participation in the ceremonies to the active Army, Navy, Marine Corps, and Air Force. The National Guard, the Organized Reserve Corps, and patriotic organizations were to be represented only in the audience invited to attend the funeral service.

The ceremonies were scheduled for 17-19 July. For twenty-four hours the general's body was to lie in the chapel at Walter Reed General Hospital, to be visited only by relatives, close friends, members of the hospital staff, and long-time fellow patients. For another twenty-four hours the body was to lie in state in the rotunda of the Capitol, where the public would be admitted. During the afternoon of the third day, General Pershing's body was to be escorted by a procession from the Capitol to Arlington National Cemetery for honors at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, funeral service in the Memorial Amphitheater, and last rites at the gravesite.

Following protocol established in the funeral plan, the commanding general of Walter Reed General Hospital, Major General George C. Beach, was to announce General Pershing's death first to President Harry S. Truman who would make the public proclamation. When General Pershing died at 0350 on 15 July, President Truman was en route by train to Washington from Philadelphia. General Beach was at Washington's Union Station when the President's train arrived at 0515 and notified the President's secretary.

At 0830 President Truman announced General Pershing's death from the White House in a statement paying tribute to the general. The Department of State later in the day issued the President's proclamation of a period of national mourning in which it was ordered that the national flag be displayed at half-staff 'upon all public buildings and at all forts and military posts and naval stations, and on all vessels of the United States' until funeral services had been held.

According to the order of notification, General Beach meanwhile sent word of General Pershing's death to the Army Chief of Staff, General Omar N. Bradley. Word, in turn, reached Headquarters, Military District of Washington, the executive agency designated to conduct the funeral, and the agencies of the Department of the Army staff responsible for specific details of the arrangements. (Table 3) The commander of the Military District of Washington, Major General Hobart R. Gay, acting as the direct representative of the President, coordinated arrangements for the ceremonies from an operations center established in the Pentagon early on 15 July. One of General Gay's first acts was to request the use of the rotunda of the Capitol for the lying in state ceremony. Such a request ordinarily results in an act of Congress, but in this instance, since Congress was in adjournment, the Speaker of the House, Joseph W. Martin, Jr., and the president pro tempore of the Senate, Arthur H. Vandenberg, gave joint consent. In an early administrative step, General Gay downgraded the highly classified funeral plan after the President announced General Pershing's death and authorized the extraction of information from it for release to the press.

TABLE 3-RESPONSIBLE ARMY AGENCIES, CEREMONIES FOR GENERAL OF
THE ARMIES JOHN J. PERSHING

Agency Responsibility

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Headquarters, Military District of Washington. Executive handling of all funeral arrangements and ceremonies.
Secretary of the General Staff -Assistance to the Pershing family, General Staff heads, Chief of Staff, Secretary of the Army, Secretary of Defense, members of Congress, and the President in their participation in the ceremonies.
Director of Personnel and Administration (delegated to The Adjutant General). Processing of all invitations, announcements, and orders pertaining to General Pershing's death and the funeral ceremonies.
Director of Organization and Training. . Selection and movement of ceremonial troop units stationed outside the Washington area.
Chief of Chaplains - Arrangement of religious services.

TABLE 4-PARTICIPATING UNITS, CEREMONIES FOR GENERAL
OF THE ARMIES JOHN J. PERSHING

Unit - Station

1st Battalion, 504th Airborne Infantry Regiment, 82d Airborne Division. Fort Bragg, North Carolina
3d Infantry Regiment, Fort Myer, Virginia
3d Mechanized Cavalry Reconnaissance Squadron. Fort Meade, Maryland
410th Engineer Construction Battalion.. Fort Belvoir, Virginia
456th Field Artillery Battalion, 82d Airborne Division. Fort Bragg, North Carolina
1 Battalion, Cadets, U.S. Military Academy, West Point, New York
2 Squadrons, Air Force troops, Boiling Field, Washington, D.C
1 Company, bluejackets, Potomac River Naval Command, Washington, DC
1 Company, marines, Marine Barracks, Washington, DC
US Army Band, Fort Myer, Virginia
US Army Ground Forces Band, Fort Meade, Maryland
356th Army Band, Fort Belvoir, Virginia
1 Squadron, Air Force planes

All military units that were to participate in the funeral were alerted by noon on 15 July; through the afternoon, officers representing units that were to act as escort in the funeral procession joined Military District of Washington officials in conference on details and procedures. Of the units with distant home stations, two battalions from Fort Bragg, North Carolina, were scheduled to move in convoy on 17 and 18 July into temporary quarters at Fort Belvoir; Virginia; a battalion of cadets of the US Military Academy, coming directly from summer field maneuvers, was to proceed by train from West Point to Washington early on 19 July, the day of the funeral.

Alongside the Military District of Washington operations center in the Pentagon, The Adjutant General opened a center on 15 July to process invitations, announcements, and orders, all of which already existed in draft form. He issued general orders announcing General Pershing's death to the Army and specifying that the flag be displayed at half-staff for thirty days 'at the headquarters of all military commands and vessels' under the control of the Department of the Army. Later, because special arrangements to accommodate the Army's longer period of mourning were lacking, the flags at several buildings in the Washington, DC, area occupied by the Army but administered by the Public Buildings Administration were raised to full staff immediately after General Pershing's funeral, as pre­scribed for government buildings in the Presidential proclamation.

By evening of 15 July, The Adjutant General's center had dispatched all necessary telegrams and letters of notification of death and had forwarded credentials to some 3,000 persons invited to attend the funeral. (Since the number of guests approximated the seating capacity of the Memorial Amphitheater, the public could not be admitted to the funeral service.) Among those who received invitations were the honorary pallbearers (officers and dignitaries) and honorary body bearers (enlisted men), among them Sergeant Alvin C. York of World War I fame. The center's staff over the nest three days was fully occupied in handling the responses to these communications.

Virtually all other preliminary arrangements, administrative and ceremonial, were completed on 16 July. Among changes to the basic funeral plan that had to be considered, some of them made near the last moment, was President Truman's decision not to deliver a eulogy previously scheduled for the funeral service. He also canceled the 21-gun salute that otherwise would have accompanied his arrival at and departure from Arlington National Cemetery. The honor in this instance, he considered, would constitute an interruption of the funeral rites.

Secretary of Defense James V. Forrestal changed his plans to participate in the ceremonies, electing to attend only the funeral service in the Memorial Amphitheater. He delegated his role in the ceremonies to Secretary of the Army Kenneth C. Royall.

A proposal that a six-star insignia be affixed to General Pershing's uniform was dropped in favor of the four stars the general had always worn. Finally, at the request of the Pershing family, a plan to display the general's medals during the lying in state period at the Capitol was canceled.

General Pershing's body was placed in the Walter Reed General Hospital chapel at noon on 17 July. The Ceremonial Company, 3d Infantry Regiment, furnished an honor guard, as well as a chapel guard to guide persons paying their respects. Hospital staff members and patients were admitted to the chapel from 1300 to 1900. All other hours of the period, ending at 1300 on 18 July, were reserved for the Pershing family and close friends.

At the closing hour General Gay, as escort commander, took charge of General Pershing's body at the chapel for movement in the procession to the Capitol for the formal lying in state. The 356th Army Band from Fort Belvoir, Virginia, played a hymn as body bearers (four Army, two Air Force, one Navy, one Marine Corps) moved the casket to a coach. The cortege of coach and family cars escorted by a scout car detachment from the 3d Armored Cavalry Reconnaissance Squadron, Fort Meade, Maryland, and Metropolitan Police proceeded at normal speed via 16th Street, Massachusetts Avenue, and New Jersey Avenue, reaching the East Plaza about 1330.

In formation to receive General Pershing's casket at the Capitol were the three service secretaries, the Army Chief of Staff and Deputy Chief of Staff, the vice chairman of the American Battle Monuments Commission, and a joint committee from Congress. This group joined the Pershing family and General Gay in escorting General Pershing's casket into the rotunda. The Army Band, attired for the occasion in gray uniforms which had been chosen for the band by General Pershing when he was Chief of Staff, played as the procession moved up the Capitol steps through a cordon of troops from the Ceremonial Company, 3d Infantry Regiment.

The casket was placed on the Lincoln catafalque in the exact center of the rotunda, the foot of the casket toward the east door through which the public would enter. The first relief of an honor guard from the Ceremonial Company took post immediately. Thereafter a succession of reliefs, each composed of one officer and four men, took post at half-hour intervals to maintain constant vigil throughout the lying in state period. From 1500 until 1900 on 18 July and again from 0900 until noon on 19 July, the public passed by the open casket in single file and left by the entrance on the west side of the rotunda. Hundreds of person had to be turned away at the closing hour, as preparations began for the procession to Arlington National Cemetery.

Troop units and other participating groups assembled by 1250 to form the procession; a receiving formation took position on the East Plaza, the remainder formed in march order on Constitution Avenue. The Army Band rendered honors as General Pershing's casket was borne from the rotunda at 1300 through a cordon of honorary pallbearers and honorary body bearers to a caisson at the foot of the east steps.

At the close of the plaza ceremony, the march units on Constitution Avenue moved forward at a reduced cadence until the cortege and other formations on the plaza had joined the column. The mile-long procession then moved at normal cadence toward Arlington National Cemetery via Constitution Avenue, 23d Street, Memorial Bridge, and Memorial Drive. A squadron of Air Force planes appeared overhead and 300,000 spectators lined the route of march despite a heavy shower of rain that fell soon after the procession started.

On reaching Memorial Gate of the cemetery, troop units not scheduled for further participation in the ceremonies kept near the head of the column; those scheduled for further participation only at the gravesite, who were next in column, left the procession and proceeded to their assigned dismissal point or next station. (Diagram 7) The remainder of the procession moved into the cemetery via Roosevelt and Wilson Avenues to the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. As the procession moved, the saluting battery of the Ceremonial Company, 3d Infantry, in position nearby the route of march, fired nineteen minute guns.

The ceremony at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier was brief. Salutes and musical honors were rendered as the casket was moved from the caisson to a catafalque on the plaza. A silence of one minute was observed. General Pershing's casket was then borne into the apse of the Memorial Amphitheater for the funeral service. Major General Luther D. Miller, the Army Chief of Chaplains, assisted by the Very Reverend John W. Suter, D.D., dean of Washington Cathedral, conducted an Episcopal funeral service. At its conclusion, the procession reformed on and below the plaza of the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier for the march to the gravesite. President Truman then left the cemetery.

The procession moved to the grave via Roosevelt, Porter, McPherson, and Grant Avenues, a large part of the audience from the theater following. At the graveside Chaplain Miller and the Reverend Dr. Suter offered brief prayers. The 3d Infantry battery, having repositioned its cannon near the gravesite during the ceremony at the amphitheater, fired a 19-gun salute.

It was 86 years ago that Frank Buckles, then a young World War I corporal, crossed paths with the greatest general of the time.
At an Oklahoma City reception, Buckles, then 18 and newly back from two years at war in France, caught the eye of Gen. John 'Blackjack' Pershing, the commander of U.S. forces in Europe.

The mighty general, a stickler for discipline, summoned Buckles from the throng to compliment his impeccable military demeanor and to chew the fat. It was a moment Buckles has cherished ever since.

On Saturday, Buckles, now 105, traveled to Arlington National Cemetery to pay tribute to Pershing at his simple grave. As one of only a dozen known World War I veterans still alive, Buckles is likely to be the last soldier who served under Pershing to personally honor the historic leader at his final resting place.

In a wheelchair but sharp-eyed, his face rosy and smooth, Buckles wore a half smile but didn't speak during an hour-long ceremony that drew the Army's 'Pershing's Own' band, several contingents of veterans groups, and about 100 others.

And while the purpose of the event was to honor Pershing, it was Buckles who drew the most attention. Attired in a black suit and wearing a black beret, he had come by car earlier in the day from the Charles Town, West Virginia, farm he still helps run, with his daughter and two friends. Buckles wasn't part of the official program, but he fast became the focus.

As word spread who Buckles was, cameras came out and people gathered to see him up close. It was hard for him to hear what the curious were saying, and his voice is airy with age, but he graciously posed for photos and shook hands.

One of his admirers was Jacob Cochran, 10, of Medford, Oregon, who is a member of a 'Young Marines' youth unit and determined to one day become a full-fledged leatherneck. Cochran, who already has mastered the posture of a Marine at attention, said he will treasure the autograph Buckles gave him. He promises to learn all he can about World War I.

'I'm very pleased, ma'am,' Cochran told a reporter.

If he researches Buckles, he will learn the Missouri-born man, at 16, so wanted to fight in World War I, that he tried to enlist at that age. The Marines turned him down twice because he was two years too young. The Navy said no, as well. Finally, an Army recruiter signed him up.

No sooner was he in uniform then he signed up to be in the ambulance service, which his sergeant said was the quickest route to get to the war in France. He served two years there, ferrying the wounded and dead. After the November 11, 1918 armistice, he helped transport German prisoners of war back home.

'We truly believed this was the war to end all wars,' Buckles said in a recent interview.

After the Great War ended, he got a civilian job with a steamship company in Toronto. In 1940, he was assigned to the Philippines, where he was captured and held for more than three years in a Japanese prisoner of war camp. He says he survived by helping other prisoners stay fit and hopeful.

U.S. paratroopers with the 11th Airborne Division parachuted in and rescued him and the other captives in February 1946. 'The skies opened up and the angels dropped from the sky,' is the way Buckles describes the moment.

He married later that year and eight years later moved to West Virginia, where he took up farming at age 53.

General Black Jack Pershing Pig's Blood

Still possessed of a whip-sharp mind, Buckles credits good genes, a lifetime of hard work (he mowed his hayfields on a tractor until he was 103) and an unwavering attention to fitness as perhaps some of the reason he has lived so long.

In recent years, Buckles had mused about making the trip to Arlington to pay his final respects to Pershing, a figure of immense historic stature after WWI. He says he hopes Americans will not forget the general, or the war that molded them both.

'It was a long time ago, now,' Buckles said. 'A long time.'

Casket Arrives At The U. S. Capitol

General Pershing Lying In State In The Capitol

Casket of General Pershing Leaving The Capitol

Procession To Arlington National Cemetery

The Procession Approaches Arlington National Cemetery

Ceremony at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier

Services At The Memorial Amphitheater

Gravesite Services - Rifle Volley

General Pershing As Chief of Staff
Courtesy of the United States Army