She leaned back. “Aren’t you worried that Germany is threatening to sink neutral ships? All your hard work could sink to the seafloor.”
What a miserable lot of people these Germans are! That’s what I wanted to say. Discretion being the better part of valor, I said, “Yes, but we can’t cower. Kaiser Wilhelm has no right to prevent us from sending humanitarian aid.”
“Aid for French soldiers, you mean. You’ve picked a side.”
The right side, I thought. “The side of humanity,” I said, wondering how this conversation was going wrong when I should’ve had her eating out of my palm. Perhaps I’d worn the wrong hat . . .
Miss Miller smiled. “Surely you worry for your nephew in the trenches.”
“Yes. Of course.” Victor’s letters were months out of date, but he wrote of the privations, the lack of ambulances, and the seemingly random ways in which his comrades were blown to bits. We were quite sure that wasn’t even the half of it. “But we’re very proud of him too.”
“Wouldn’t you like to bring him home?” she asked. “I must confess, it wasn’t only an interview I came for today. By now, you must have heard of the Woman’s Peace Party.”
I’d read only a little something of it in the papers. Enough to know it had been started by suffragettes I admired. “I’m curious to know more.”
“It’s all in the name. It’s a political party for women and for peace. As we like to say, men brought about this slaughter in Europe. Only women can stop it. We put higher value on human life because we give life. And once women have the vote, there will never be another war.”
She’s obviously never seen a herd of actresses willing to gore each other over a starring role.
“Well, I’d certainly like to see that theory put to the test . . .”
“We should very much like for you to join us. We’d put you in charge of a fundraising committee to produce literature promoting peace.”
How flattered I was, although the details sounded vague. “What do you mean by literature promoting peace?”
“Pamphlets. Propaganda. Recruitment to the peace movement. You see, in April, distinguished women from all over the world will meet at The Hague for an international conference to demonstrate solidarity! We want our pamphlets to say our feminine bond cannot be divided by the trenches men have dug between us.”
I stirred my teacup faster, trying to digest this, then tilted my head, hoping her words would make more sense viewed from a different angle. “A lovely sentiment, but how will this bring an end to the war?”
“Perhaps we women must go, arm in arm, to the trenches and demand the soldiers stop fighting.”
I dropped my spoon. “While I love a dramatic gesture, you should know the Germans paid no mind to the demands, nay, even the heartbreaking pleas, of the women and children they attacked.”
She gave a tragic sigh. “Of course we’d insist the protection of women and children must be made the first tenet of civilized warfare.”
“The kaiser doesn’t give a fig for the rules of war and—”
“You sound like a partisan.”
Remembering bleeding, orphaned, homeless children, I asked, “Tell me, did Germany accidentally trip and fall into neutral Belgium? I teach my boys that might doesn’t make right, and that there’s nothing more American than standing up to a bully.”
It was more than I had intended to say, but what a relief to say it even as the reporter’s eyes narrowed. “The American public supports neutrality.”
“For now.” Public opinion could be shaped, and I was no bad sculptor. Out of more than 120 countries in the world, only 7 were democracies, and like Willie, I believed we should stand by them. America should be in this fight. “I fear your peace convention will be futile at best, damaging at worst. I cannot be part of it.”
“You’re making a mistake. I’m sure your heart is in the right place, but you don’t seem to understand the complexities of this war.”
“Don’t I? With all due respect, you weren’t in France at the outbreak of the war. I was.”
“You didn’t stay, though, did you? You fled. Which would be all well and good if you weren’t now flouting the president’s policies and trading on your husband’s name in a self-aggrandizing endeavor to put America’s sons in harm’s way.” She stuffed her notebook back into her handbag, then added a parting shot. “At least we’re willing to risk our own lives for our beliefs.”