We went on up the stairs. The Director didn't like the elevators used, except for freight, so we all had to walk. Probably it was better for us too, I thought, comparing the slight shortness of breath I noticed on second floor with the way I'd hiked over the hills around Kumwha during the Korean truce talks of 1951, when there was nothing to do in my Battalion Aid Station but take morning sick call. But I'd sat in a lot of chairs since then.
The Conference Room, next to Dr. Hallam's office, was already crowded and he waved at us. "John, you find a spot somewhere along the wall. I'm afraid we can't seat everyone and I want department heads at the table. Pat, would you mind taking notes? Sit here beside me." He winked at her. "That is, if John trusts me."
The few remaining spaces were now filled and the Director stood up.
"Gentlemen, some of you know why I have arranged this meeting but the rest of you are still wondering. You may or may not agree with what I shall have to say, but, because of its unusual nature, I must have your promise that you will not repeat, outside of this room, what you will hear in the discussion that follows. Is that clear?" He paused and looked around the room. "Anyone who does not wish to give such a promise will please leave now, before we start."
I could see their faces from where I stood by the windows. Joe Armstrong, Chief of Medical Services, sat on Hallam's right. His dark, heavy-featured face was calm as he looked straight ahead. He knows, I thought. Beside him, Bruce Thompson, Chief of Surgery, lifted his bushy eyebrows and turned to whisper a quick question at Joe. Obviously he didn't know the secret, whatever it was. I looked on around the table. About halfway, I saw Ray Thorne, one of the best obstetricians in town and an old friend of mine. He caught my eye and winked. The Chief of Ob. and Gyn. wasn't there. Ray must be standing in for him. I wondered what the boss would have to say that could interest their department.
Hallam was talking again. "About a week ago, here in Vancouver there was a sudden outbreak of disease which, aside from a few unusual occurrences, seemed to be influenza. Now, in the past two days, we are confronted with thousands of new cases. You have seen the reports in the newspapers, I'm sure. I have been in contact with the public health authorities here, and also in the States of Washington and Oregon. The situation down there, especially in Seattle, Tacoma and Portland, is every bit as bad as it is here." He paused for a full five seconds. "Gentlemen, I believe this is no ordinary epidemic. I believe this may well be a man-made disaster!"
"For the love of God, George!" I don't know who said it, but it echoed all our thoughts. I could see the astonished and incredulous looks on the faces of all the experts as they watched him, standing there so straight and solid and sane.
My mind was racing about, trying to find reasons for his amazing assertion. Maybe he wasn't really serious, I thought, only to dismiss the idea immediately. Another look at that stern and sober face and I knew he meant it. And only a few moments ago he had been laughing and joking with Pat. I remembered a story I'd heard about him in World War II, how he had been in a Field Hospital with his New Zealand countrymen at Cassino and, during a heavy bombardment, had sat quietly joking with patients who could not be moved to safety. So, it could be true. If he could make jokes in the face of death, he could laugh during a disaster.
The buzz of conversation ceased as the Chief went on. "As of this morning there were fifty thousand cases in Vancouver city alone, with no tallies in, as yet, from Burnaby and New Westminster. More are being reported every minute. The hospitals are filling up even though they take only those with complications; and there seems to be no end of it so far. It's like the 1918 pandemic all over again but with some very peculiar differences." Again he stopped and turned to Dr. Armstrong. "Joe, do you see any differences clinically?"