Yet neither the critic nor the boys and girls knew what a fantastic scene they had just witnessed: Paderewski locked in absolute concentration on Beethoven and Schumann and the others, while the fate of his country waited silently for him on his desk.
When the recital was finally over--and he did not deprive the audience of so much as one bow--he went home and ate dinner. Then he went to work on the memorandum. Thirty-six hours later--at eight A.M. on Thursday morning--it was delivered to Colonel House. Paderewski went to bed for the first time since Monday night.
His fatigue seemed well worth it a week later when the Colonel came back from Washington. "The President was very much pleased with your memorandum," he said. "Now get ready. The first shot will be fired very soon!"
On January 22 President Wilson addressed Congress on "Essential Terms of Peace in Europe." Paderewski, who was touring in the South at the time, picked up a newspaper the next day and read these words: "No peace can last or ought to last which does not recognize and accept the principle that governments derive all their just powers from the consent of the governed, and that no right anywhere exists to hand people about from sovereignty to sovereignty as if they were property. I take it for granted ... that statesmen everywhere are agreed that there should be a united, independent, and autonomous Poland, and that henceforth inviolable security of life and worship ... should be guaranteed to all people who have lived hitherto under the power of governments devoted to a faith and purpose hostile to their own."
The words swam before his eyes. For the first time, the fate of Poland had been publicly mentioned as an official concern of the United States government.
On April 2, 1917, President Wilson came to an anguished but inevitable decision. He called upon the Congress to declare war against Germany. Full mobilization of the country's manpower was immediately begun. Two days later, Paderewski, addressing the "Union of Polish Falcons," the most important Polish-American group, called for the formation of a separate Polish army, to fight side by side with the Allies. An independent Polish army, he felt, would prove to the world as nothing else could that there was truly a Polish nation waiting for its moment of rebirth. After almost insurmountable difficulties, he finally won his point, and the governments of France and the United States allowed him to go ahead with his plans for the formation of the army. Two training camps for Polish volunteers were founded, and soon twenty-two thousand Polish-Americans had enlisted in "the Army of Kosciuszko." For help in transporting so large a number of men to Europe, Paderewski turned to the Secretary of the Navy, Josephus Daniels. He, in turn, knew just the man to assign to the Paderewski case--a young Assistant Secretary named Franklin Delano Roosevelt whose admiration for the pianist dated from childhood. With Roosevelt's enthusiastic, red-tape-cutting aid, Paderewski's volunteers were quickly sent to Europe. There they joined with the European Poles to form an army numbering nearly one hundred thousand men, fighting under the banner of the white eagle.