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 THE RED CROSS AND THE WAR 
 
 JUDGE ROBERT W. WINSTON 
 
 AT 
 
 ST. MARY'S SCHOOL 
 
 RALEIGH, NORTH CAROLINA 
 
 MAY 19, 1918 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2012 with funding from 
 
 University of North Carolina at Chapel Hil 
 
 http://archive.org/details/redcrosswarOOwins 
 
THE RED CROSS AND THE WAR 
 
 WHEN little Paul Dombey lay dying, he turned 
 his big, wistful eyes toward Mr. Dombey 
 and asked, "What is money, papa?" 
 
 "Why, money, money," gasped the startled Dom- 
 bey, "money can do anything, Paul!" 
 
 How mistaken he was! And how mistaken are 
 all people who think that money can do everything 
 in this war. Money can purchase guns and shot and 
 shell. It can supply food and clothing. But money 
 cannot minister to the wounded. It cannot sooth 
 the fevered brow. This is the work of a woman's 
 hand, and this is the office of a trained nurse and of 
 Red Cross workers. Our Government is supplying 
 funds, and more funds, to build ships and equip 
 armies and navies; but as to our dear wounded 
 boys in the hospitals of France, they must hear the 
 sound of a woman's voice, feel the touch of a 
 woman's hand and the soothing influence of her 
 presence. It is this that comforts our sons in 
 France; it is this that sustains us at home. 
 
 For these reasons the Red Cross Society of Amer- 
 ica is a personal and voluntary organization. Born, 
 on the bloody fields of Solferino, to mitigate the 
 horrors of war, it makes a direct appeal for support 
 
 
to the hearts and conscience of our people. It re- 
 ceives no assistance from the United States Govern- 
 ment. To work with it and for it is both an honor 
 and a stimulant. Its president is Woodrow Wilson. 
 The War Department audits its accounts, and it has 
 twenty-two million members. It has no salaried 
 officers, and every dollar which is given to it counts, 
 for there is neither extravagance nor wastage. Up 
 to this date it has received nearly a hundred million 
 of dollars and it has accounted for every penny of 
 the same. It is now proposed that we raise one hun- 
 dred million more, and the amount assigned to 
 Raleigh and to Wake County, of which your school 
 is a chapter, is $35,000. 
 
 When the Italian lines broke under the furious 
 onslaught of the Germans and Austrians last win- 
 ter, it was the Red Cross workers, behind the lines, 
 that heartened the fleeing soldiers, fed the hungry, 
 cared for the wounded, and saved the day to civili- 
 zation; and it is now the American Red Cross So- 
 ciety in France which provides for the family of the 
 French soldier and nerves him to stick, stick, stick 
 to the end. Up to March 1st nearly fifty millions 
 had been spent among our allies. 
 
 I see before me now 250 young women. Last 
 week, and the week before, I saw 300 of the finest 
 boys on the globe leave our midst for the battle- 
 fields of France. They are the very young men who 
 
 2 
 
are most interested in you. In God's own way it is 
 these boys, and such as they, who shall share your 
 future life with you. Every one of them is a hero. 
 Marcus Curtius, Arnold Winkelried, Horatius at the 
 Bridge, what have these heroes of song and of story 
 on our boys? Nothing. Christ died to save men 
 from hell and perdition. These young men will die, 
 if need be, to save you young women from worse 
 than hell. True, they are fighting for their country 
 and are every inch patriots; but, after all, dear 
 young women, it is for you, and you, and you, that 
 they fight. Behind every bayonet, as it flashes in 
 the sunshine of France and buries itself in the 
 bowels of some savage German, is the stimulating 
 memory of you, the girl he left behind. And the 
 honor and glory of being thought worthy of you — 
 the thought that you love and honor him — will 
 nerve and sustain him to the end. But one flutter of 
 your handkerchief, and he will storm the ramparts 
 of hell. Let us suppose that ten years ago it had 
 been known in Raleigh that one young man — just 
 one — had volunteered to save you and me from 
 direful calamity — to die for us — what crowds 
 would have gathered to greet him! What a hero 
 and a martyr he would have been ! How we would 
 have shed tears as we gazed upon him, and how our 
 bosoms would have swelled with emotion as we did 
 him honor! Yea, how we would have begged a hair 
 
 3 
 
of him for memory! And what have we now? 
 Thousands and tens of thousands of young men 
 coming forward to the conflict with a serenity and a 
 high-hearted gaiety, the only rivalry being who first ■ 
 shall be privileged to die for his country; the only 
 disappointment, to be held back from the firing line. 
 
 I know that you honor and love these gallant 
 boys. They at the front, and you at home, keeping 
 the fires burning on the altars, will, under God, 
 redeem the world from tyranny. And how supreme 
 must be your contempt for the dastard in war — that 
 cowardly fellow who gets himself exempt from 
 service. When the Greeks had been defeated by 
 the Asiatics, and Xenophon had called a council of 
 the braves, one fellow, Apollonides by name, arose 
 and counseled surrender. Then spake brave Aga- 
 sias: "This fellow is no Greek; he is an Asiatic. 
 See! He has both his ears bored!" 
 
 I charge you, young women, to join the Red Cross 
 Society, to co-operate with the Y. M. C. A. work, to 
 be one of the glorious canteen girls and of the 
 Woman's Council of National Defense, and some of 
 you to serve humanity as trained nurses on the bat- 
 tlefields of France. 
 
 Once upon a time, Dean Corwin made an appeal 
 to a great London audience for the little orphans 
 under his charge. The appeal touched every heart. 
 Women gave all their money and threw their jewels 
 
 4 
 
and ornaments into the cause. I do not ask you to 
 do this — though, what a cause is ours — just give all 
 the money you have, and save your jewels! 
 
 This war is a mirror in which each one sees his 
 own image reflected. To the man of faith the finger 
 of God is seen in the burnished rows of steel; to the 
 doubter the end of all things is at hand. To Wini- 
 fred Kirkland there is a "new death" born of the 
 war. To her the old death was but a barrier; the 
 new death is a bond. The old death hid away our 
 loved ones from conversation; the new death min- 
 gles their presence with our daily tasks. Today 
 brave grief is a sign of the soul's health. 
 
 But let's away with thoughts like these; they are 
 not for your fresh and youthful souls. The rather 
 let us fix our gaze with the steadfast eye of faith 
 upon the day of our final triumph, as triumph we 
 will; for ultimate truth has always triumphed, even 
 as the river flows into the sea. The democracies of 
 the world must justify their right to exist, and they 
 will. 
 
 The women of America are doing their part, as 
 women have always done, from the day of Martha 
 and Mary to the midnight death of Edith Cavell at 
 the cowardly hands of a people obsessed by the idea 
 of their own greatness and engulfed in the welter 
 of a paranoiac kultur. 
 
UNIVERSITY OF N.C. AT CHAPEL HILL 
 
 00032773142 
 
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 notice is sent to you. It must be brought to the North 
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