Chapter 32

Near the end of July 1932 a skirmish at the foot of Capitol Hill grew into a small riot with bonus marchers throwing bricks at some policemen and the police defending themselves and shooting two men dead. The trouble had started when the officers were ordered to clear the buildings under pressure from the D.C. commissioners. By then more than 6,000 veterans and their families had taken the government's money and boarded trains for their homes, but at least twice that number remained in town, many in buildings scheduled for demolition.

On a hot Thursday afternoon, the 28th of July, ignorant of the morning's troubles, Sammy told his wife he was going downtown again. He loaded two sacks with potatoes, since he had given away all but his crabapples, and walked to the trolley stop. She tried to talk him out of it, pointing to the newspaper stories of scattered trouble in the city, stories they both had read.

By three o'clock he was on the Mall handing out potatoes to some of the men sitting or standing around their makeshift tents and scrap-board huts. He noticed little groups in excited conversations, but within the hour he had emptied his bags, waved to some men who recognized him from previous forays, and headed for the streetcar stop, hoping to be home in plenty of time for supper.

An odd clanking noise made him turn around and look up toward the Ellipse behind the White House. He rubbed his eyes and looked again. Led by an officer on a prancing horse, here came several companies of infantrymen wearing gas masks, marching right down Pennsylvania Avenue in good order, and they were flanked by four troops of cavalry who were spreading out over the Mall. While Sammy watched, the cavalrymen drew their sabers, flourished them and rested the blades on their shoulders. Behind them came some armored cars with machineguns mounted on their brows and then a half-dozen light tanks, the ones called Whippets. Sammy saw it all clearly as if it were a parade forming, and he could not believe his eyes.

The approaching soldiers starting throwing canisters of gas into the grassy areas where people were camped and some of the marchers began throwing back bricks and stones. The infantrymen stopped, straightened their line and fixed their bayonets onto their rifles and then once more marched forward, filling the Avenue from curb to curb and sweeping everything before them.

Sammy stood rooted, hearing their booted heels strike the street and the echoes of the officers' commands as one company flanked out on the Mall at the double. He caught a whiff of the tear gas and immediately thought of those terrifying days in the Argonne forest. When he could see that the officer on the horse was a general complete with golden aiguillettes, he decided it was time to move on.

He ran and soon found that others were running too. Sammy hurried across the grassy strip along the broad street, passed under the line of shady trees and out onto the broad Mall. He glanced back, saw that the soldiers were still coming, 120 steps a minute, holding a ragged line, and they were closer. Suddenly a horse thundered by, so near he could touch him and Sammy yelled, "What the hell are you doing?" at the soldier. The cavalryman wheeled his mount, shrugged his shoulders and galloped away, waving his sword as men, women and children scattered before him and his big mount's hooves tore up the sod. Here and there among the shacks, clouds of tear gas blossomed and flames flared up.

Sammy turned to face the broad street and saw tear gas billowing toward him, filling the leafy trees, and several more horsemen headed his way, waving their swords and hollering. He did not know which way to run so he decided to let the wave roll past and then walk to Georgetown and head home. He noticed he was still holding two empty gunnysacks and tossed them aside. A rider turned toward him and raised his saber. Sammy ducked, covering his head with his arms, and the cavalryman smacked him on the shoulder with the flat of his blade and yelled, "Move, you bastard, move!"