The Mitchel campaign was an incident--important and affecting, but only an incident--in the stirring summer and fall of 1917, when we had just entered the war. My trip to Europe that summer, on a government mission, fixed a new and broader purpose in my mind. While in Turkey in 1914 to 1916 I had seen only the German machinations and listened to the German apologies. Now I had observed the devastation wrought in France and heard from French and British lips their version of the war. Moreover, my talks with Joffre, Painlevé, Sir Douglas Haig, Sir Arthur Currie, and others, showed me how fearfully low the spirits of the Allies had fallen before we entered the struggle. Prussianism had defied and all but conquered the world; its victims were at the very edge of despair; as for America, it was not yet fully cognizant of the sad conditions prevailing in Europe, because censorship, guided by political considerations, prevented the full truth from crossing the Atlantic. When I returned in September, I was impressed not only with the necessity of continuing my activities to alleviate the suffering of the Armenians and the Jews and of doing all I could to eliminate the cause of that suffering, but I was much more impressed with the bigger thought of also doing all in my power to rouse American sentiment to the fact that this great struggle was dependent upon our activities to replenish the diminishing resources, both physical and moral, of the countries which were immersed in this tremendous conflict. I determined to make use of this special knowledge, which it had been my fortune to acquire, to help defeat the Germans. This dual determination made the ensuing period one of intense activities, varied, yet not conflicting. Things happened pell-mell, but are more coherent if grouped topically rather than chronologically. The Armenian outrages were constantly in my mind, and I wrote for the _Red Cross Magazine_ an article on the Turkish massacres concluding: