time.”
“Jesus.”
“Oh yes. Did your men actually shoot at that German pilot?”
“Hell, yes. Every swinging dick in my command shot at the son of a bitch. And who knows, maybe we even hit him.”
“And what do you think he reported?”
Patton grinned wickedly. “He’s a pilot and all pilots lie like rugs, even the crazy ones and they’re all crazy. He probably said he’d spotted a major American force moving on German positions, and that he bravely attacked it through a hail of bullets and barely escaped with his life.” He laughed. “Hell, I’m even smarter than I thought I was.”
Luke rolled his eyes. “Christ, George.”
Another shell crashed into the ground in front of them, close enough for them to feel the vibrations. They didn’t think the Germans were shooting at them. Instead, they were firing at places where they thought American units might be hiding. It was time to leave.
CHAPTER 5
Elise Thompson felt she had the best of both worlds. At nineteen, she was two years out of high school and now a trusted assistant to famed movie producer D.W. Griffith. David Wark Griffith was a Kentuckian who was raised to be a loyal son of the lost Confederacy. Thus, he would never have hired Elise had he known she’d been born in Chicago and moved to Los Angeles when she was twelve. He hated Northerners.
Griffith had made several major motion pictures, including Intolerance and Birth of a Nation . Now he was part of a new company, United Artists, and the future looked good for United Artists and the movie industry, much of which, in the last decade, had moved to the Hollywood section of Los Angeles.
Griffith’s latest epic, and one he hoped would help him recoup that portion of his reputation lost when Intolerance turned out to be an expensive bust, was titled Victory at the Marne. It was going to be Griffith’s salute to the German victory that had changed the world. To him, the Germans were white people, while the French, along with being incompetent and dirty, also were racial mongrels. He felt it was shame that the Brits had gotten caught up with such Gallic rabble, but such is life.
The fifty-five-year-old Griffith’s logic said the world was a better place because of the German victory. Germany and the United States, which to him meant the Union, were natural rivals and he hoped to portray the Germans as the potential saviors of white civilization. Some had condemned Birth of a Nation as racist and he rejected those criticisms. The movie told the truth as he understood it and had been brought up to believe.
To portray the 1914 battle of the Marne with the realism he demanded, trenches had been dug and impressive fortifications built on land fifty miles south and east of Los Angeles. Hundreds of extras wearing German, French, and British uniforms milled around waiting for the climactic battle scenes that were about to be filmed. Dummy cannon and machine guns were everywhere. Elise still wondered just how anyone could believe southern California resembled the interior of France. However, most people were like her and had never seen the interior of France and had nothing with which to compare.
Griffith had heard rumors of fighting between German and American soldiers along the Mexican border, but decided it didn’t concern him at all. Just a border incident, he thought. Whatever was going on was more than a hundred miles away and none of his business.
Elise was exhausted and happy. One other reason she’d gotten a job with Griffith was the fact that she wasn’t an aspiring actress using the clerical job to suck up to him, sometimes literally. She hated the young women who’d spread their legs or open their heavily lipsticked mouths to get a part in a movie. Thank God for real actresses like Mary Pickford and the Gish sisters who didn’t need to do those things. Elise considered herself a good girl, but was not a prude and knew full well where babies came from and what made men happy. She
“Jesus.”
“Oh yes. Did your men actually shoot at that German pilot?”
“Hell, yes. Every swinging dick in my command shot at the son of a bitch. And who knows, maybe we even hit him.”
“And what do you think he reported?”
Patton grinned wickedly. “He’s a pilot and all pilots lie like rugs, even the crazy ones and they’re all crazy. He probably said he’d spotted a major American force moving on German positions, and that he bravely attacked it through a hail of bullets and barely escaped with his life.” He laughed. “Hell, I’m even smarter than I thought I was.”
Luke rolled his eyes. “Christ, George.”
Another shell crashed into the ground in front of them, close enough for them to feel the vibrations. They didn’t think the Germans were shooting at them. Instead, they were firing at places where they thought American units might be hiding. It was time to leave.
CHAPTER 5
Elise Thompson felt she had the best of both worlds. At nineteen, she was two years out of high school and now a trusted assistant to famed movie producer D.W. Griffith. David Wark Griffith was a Kentuckian who was raised to be a loyal son of the lost Confederacy. Thus, he would never have hired Elise had he known she’d been born in Chicago and moved to Los Angeles when she was twelve. He hated Northerners.
Griffith had made several major motion pictures, including Intolerance and Birth of a Nation . Now he was part of a new company, United Artists, and the future looked good for United Artists and the movie industry, much of which, in the last decade, had moved to the Hollywood section of Los Angeles.
Griffith’s latest epic, and one he hoped would help him recoup that portion of his reputation lost when Intolerance turned out to be an expensive bust, was titled Victory at the Marne. It was going to be Griffith’s salute to the German victory that had changed the world. To him, the Germans were white people, while the French, along with being incompetent and dirty, also were racial mongrels. He felt it was shame that the Brits had gotten caught up with such Gallic rabble, but such is life.
The fifty-five-year-old Griffith’s logic said the world was a better place because of the German victory. Germany and the United States, which to him meant the Union, were natural rivals and he hoped to portray the Germans as the potential saviors of white civilization. Some had condemned Birth of a Nation as racist and he rejected those criticisms. The movie told the truth as he understood it and had been brought up to believe.
To portray the 1914 battle of the Marne with the realism he demanded, trenches had been dug and impressive fortifications built on land fifty miles south and east of Los Angeles. Hundreds of extras wearing German, French, and British uniforms milled around waiting for the climactic battle scenes that were about to be filmed. Dummy cannon and machine guns were everywhere. Elise still wondered just how anyone could believe southern California resembled the interior of France. However, most people were like her and had never seen the interior of France and had nothing with which to compare.
Griffith had heard rumors of fighting between German and American soldiers along the Mexican border, but decided it didn’t concern him at all. Just a border incident, he thought. Whatever was going on was more than a hundred miles away and none of his business.
Elise was exhausted and happy. One other reason she’d gotten a job with Griffith was the fact that she wasn’t an aspiring actress using the clerical job to suck up to him, sometimes literally. She hated the young women who’d spread their legs or open their heavily lipsticked mouths to get a part in a movie. Thank God for real actresses like Mary Pickford and the Gish sisters who didn’t need to do those things. Elise considered herself a good girl, but was not a prude and knew full well where babies came from and what made men happy. She
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