We took our meals at the same table and used these often wasted hours to weave precious strands of friendship that can best be created amongst people animated by the same aims and sharing the obligations of service. At my suggestion, we decided to hold daily meetings to prepare for submission to the Conference a plan which would embody the combined thoughts of our entire party. Dr. Welch had intended to devote his time at sea to writing an article on his old associate, Dr. Osler, but rather regretfully postponed his task and accepted his usual position—that of chairman. Dr. Holt was elected secretary so that, with Dr. Biggs as vice-chairman, we transferred to our gatherings the precision and expert management of the Rockefeller Institute.
Dr. Welch’s first thought has always been of public service. Before our country entered the war, he went to the President and suggested making ready our medical practitioners and hospitals for service. Mr. Wilson appointed him to the Council of National Defense, and some day the public will be surprised to learn how much he did toward that phase of preparedness. On the Leviathan he brought out what was best in us and proved, at the age of sixty-eight, the fallacy of the popular interpretation of Dr. Osler’s statement about the end of human usefulness at forty-five.
All of the physicians were animated by this same high motive: not to commercialize their talents, but to devote much of them to research work for the benefit of mankind. As all of them were recognized authorities in their respective fields, they stated their experience and knowledge in so convincing a manner that it was like reading the last word written on the subject.
After a few days of strictly medical discussion, I ventured to read them my conception of the proper future of the Red Cross as published in the New York Times of March 15, 1919, arguing that this noble organization ought now to become militant and endeavour to reach with curative and preventive measures into the innermost recesses of both hemispheres, where diseases originate and dense ignorance prevails. We all agreed that we must remedy the intellectual deficiencies as well as the physical weaknesses of the backward peoples, and, therefore, prepared a memorandum, later presented to the Conference, recommending a broad international programme of this character.
We landed at Brest, and hurried to Paris and immediately reported to Mr. Davison. There I met Mr. Hoover’s secretary, who said that “The Chief”—a title given Hoover by all his admiring adherents—was anxious to see me. I found Hoover concerned as to whether our contemplated organization would conflict with his exclusive authority conferred by President Wilson to manage all the American relief activities everywhere. I promptly relieved his mind, assuring him that the League of the Red Cross Societies had no intention of distributing food or in any way interfering with the American Relief administration.
Our first Red Cross meeting was held next day in Mr. Davison’s office at the Regina and then we presented our programme, urging its adoption as necessary to retain the interest and coöperation of the millions of adult and junior members of the American Red Cross. But, unfortunately, Mr. Davison relied largely on Colonel Strong, and his plans were adopted; they were conventional and confined to a limited field.
A few days later, Mr. Davison gave a dinner at the little old-fashioned house on the Quai de la Tourelle. The recruits from America were meeting the scarred veterans just returned from the front-line trenches. Here were the men that had fought dismay in Italy, typhus in Servia, who had worked wonders on the Bosphorus, and saved the babies of Roumania. We heard their modest reports through which their valour and their triumphs shone like so many pillars of fire. America had done these things: all non-combatant Americans had faithfully worked to develop the organization which made them possible; we newcomers from America, burning with the volunteer spirit and ready with a programme to continue that usefulness and extend it throughout all the world, were raised, as we listened, far above the material plane.
War-time regulations were still in force: all lights should have been extinguished at 9:30, and Frederic himself popped a worried head in at the door several times to tell Davison so. Therefore, when our host called on me for the closing speech, he said:
“I regret that you will have only five minutes for it, too. The curfew has rung three times already.”
In concluding my speech, I said: