But Foch fought on.

The Americans had cleared the last corner of the Argonne of German machine-gun nests and gunners, and were widening their offensive on the Meuse.  The French had taken Laon, and were pushing on.  The British had taken Lens and Cambrai and were advancing on Douai and Lille.

On the 23rd of October the President of the United States referred the matter of the armistice to the Allies.  On the 29th, the Allied War Council met at Versailles to fix the armistice conditions.

(Foch meanwhile had launched an offensive against the Austrians on the Piave.)

Now, an armistice is supposed to be a cessation of hostilities for an agreed period, all combatants to remain as they were; if the parley for peace is not successful, the struggle is to resume where it paused, neither side having gained or lost, except as delay may or may not have been favorable to them.

Foch had not the smallest intention of granting the hard-pushed enemy that sort of an armistice—­time to recuperate, to parley while Winter came on and postponed the resumption of his offensive until Spring.  To do that meant to prolong the war probably another year, at enormous cost in lives, suffering, materials.

What he would grant would be an armistice in which the enemy, so far from keeping his positions would abandon them all and retire far behind the Rhine; in which the Allies, so far from keeping their positions, would follow the retreating enemy into his own country, and police it; in which the enemy, so far from resting on his sword, would hand it over—­his swords, and his cannon, and his machine-guns, and his fleet and his submarines and his aircraft and his locomotives; in which he would release all Allied prisoners and not ask the release of any of his captured men.

The terms were the most ignominious ever imposed upon a prostrate enemy.  The sole reason for referring to them as “armistice terms” was that peace terms are final and absolute, and these were not final—­they would be made much worse if the Germans failed to satisfy their conquerors on every point.

When the Allied War Council had agreed with Foch on the armistice terms, he said: 

“Within ten days or a fortnight I can break the German army in three, envelop a section of it, and take a million prisoners.  Is there any condition which, in the opinion of any of you, could be imposed upon the enemy then, more conclusive than those of the armistice?”

No one could think of anything that might add a jot to the completeness of Germany’s subjugation.

“Then, gentlemen,” answered the Commander-in-Chief, “we will proceed with the armistice.  When all is won that can be won for the safety and honor of France and her Allies, I cannot for the sake of prestige or gratification or personal glory, order action that would cost the life of any parents’ young son, any little child’s father.  I am a bereaved father.  I think of the fathers and mothers whom further fighting must bereave.  The enveloping advance which our armies could make in ten to fourteen days would cost us thousands of lives, many maimed men.  If those things must be to bring the triumph of Right, we can bear them again as we have borne them these years past.  But not for any other reason!”