Five Mile Beach weekly journal., 1917-01-12
THE JOYS OF
A RIOT
By M. QUAD
Copyright, 1916. by the Mcclure
Newspaper Syndicate.

What sort of a home has a patrplman
got? Well, it's a place where you go to
when you can't go anywhere else. Your
wife and children are almost strangers
to you"
81 thought it was a pretty good job"
I replied. "There's a pretty good sal
airy and your pension when you have
reached a certain age"
pretty good job!" he exclaimed in
contempt. 'Why, man, a longshore-
man or a ditch digger is not as tired
when his hours of labor have passed
and he is not so bunged up at the end
of a year. It's walk. walk, walk until
there is no more feeling in your feet.
It's watch, watch, watch until your
eyes need spectacles. It's worry and
trouble every hour you're on duty"
but l have seen a patrolman smile
and laugh l protested.
$50 have 1, and l smile and laugh
myself. but the occasions have been
few and far between. l have come
into the station house when relieved
at my post so exhausted that a man
could have pushed me over with his
fingers. | have piled into bed and shut
my eyes and just got a dream running
through my head when the call came.
It was a call for us to turn out and be
mighty prompt about it. There was a
riot going on half a mile away. Inc
walters In a certain restaurant were on
a strike and they were smashing things
I'D in a beautiful manner. A crowd OF
outsiders was collected and
ing them and taking part in the smash
Ing. Then, my son, is when you nave
seen the patrolman smile and laugh.
His chance was coming to get even.
We smiled and laughed as we tumbled
into the wagon and all WEAKNESS anu
all desire for sleep vanished away.
81 said our chance had come TO get
even. The strikers had made 1t nara
for us, but we want a show at some
thing or somebody to pay on OLD
scores. When you can't strike a man
who has buffeted and Inundated you
YOU turn and kick his dog or somebody
aelse's dog to get even. The horses go
away at a gallop.
''We lump out and form in line, and
the crowd laughs and boots at us. we
get the word to advance in line. and we
select the biggest men and those who
are hooting the loudest. The rioters
give way for a moment'and then hold
their ground. Every man of them is
armed with a brickbat, cobbiestone or
stick, and they are just as anxious LOT
a fight as we are. We do not seek to
kill, but they are ready to take life.
Crash! And we are into them. We
strike for their heads, their arms, their
hands. their knees and any other part
which will take the fight out of them.
They grapple with us. They seize US
by the arms, the legs, and try to grasp
our nightsticks. Sometimes there Is
only one opposing you. sometimes
there are five or six climbing over you
like a pack of wolves. Even If you
were a coward you cannot get away.
You have got to stand up and face 1t
and take your medicine.
''There is a JOY in it. my son. more
Joy than a soldier feels in battle. The
best man is going to win in that row.
You are hit with brickbatS a dozen
times a minute, but you don't feel the
hurts until afterward. You are knock
ed down by some missile striking you
in the face. but you don't stop to wipe
away the blood-you keep facing on.
From your prone position you strike
out with your club at the knees and
shins around you, and many a man
will limp for the next month.
Cup comes more wagons and more
men from other stations, and we begin
to drive that crowd. Some run away;
some seek refuge in doorways; some
mount to the roofs and from those
vantage points continue to hurl brick
bats down upon us. The row lasts
half an hour. At the end of that time
some rioter raises a call, and the street
is cleared In a minute-no, not cleared.
There are fifty men down and in need
of a surgeons care. They are the
wounded of the battle. Every one has
shed his blood for what he deems is
the principle of the thing. If you
could see those fifty laid out side by
side, with three or foul surgeons rem
dering first aid, you would be shocked.
"And how about us? Some have to
be carried to the wagon and bundled
in most any way, and those who have
escaped the lightest have a bad limp
at least, There is hardly a uniform
that is not ripped and torn and latter
ed. The men have bruised faces.
bleeding hands and bruised bodies
Every one of us needs the surgeons
care as soon as we reach the station.
There is 10 boasting about what this
man or that man has done. but there is
victory in the eyes of every one. We
have paid off old scores. We have got
even for fifty humiliations. We get
leave of absence for three days, and
then we are to be back and as good as
new. I tell you, my son, curious as it
may seem to you and others. that the
greatest joy in a patrolman's life is to
be one in n riot like Tint"