Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1932-06-08
Those Silent Marching Men.

Those Silent Marching Men.
They did not follow the historic path
OF the proud pageants of the past that
have marched in triumph on Pennsyl-
vania avenue They marched the other
way. There were no resplendent flashes
OF gold or silver or polished brass from
the uniforms they wore. Their clothes
were idle-stained, torn. wrinkled and
nondescript. There were no fine bands
to blare for them the stirring. martial
music of victory. The few drums and
bugles were not enough to inspirit those
dragging, weary feet There were no
cheering thousands to acclaim them as
they marched-only a crowd of the
curious, mostly silent, now and then
breaking into muffled applause, lined
the way.
Yet they marched under the same
flag. Sometimes the flag was small,
sometimes it was large enough to bend
the makeshift staff to which it had
been nailed as the stiff breeze OF the
Summer evening caught and whipped
its folds, and the unarmed color guards
would reach forth strong. bare arms to
help him who bore it. They carried
their flags as men who know the flag
and are proud to carry it. There were
hundreds of flags in that long column
OF fours
There was nothing inspiring about
their march. But there was deep
sublime tragedy.
Perhaps the tragedy was one Of con-
trast. To those who watched them
pass there must have flashed across
the screen of memory vision of other
days, of other men who have marched
along this same parade ground-the
preparedness parade" President
leading the young soldiers so proud of
the shining new rifles on their Shout
ders, civilians in blue coats and white
flannel trousers, bearing tiny flags in
place of guns; schoolgirls and school
boys, everybody marching off to war;
the parade Of the First Division, SYM
bolizing the return of triumph flushed
Army from overseas, the General OF the
Armies at the head of glittering rank on
rank of disciplined veterans, young in
years, old in the ways of the wars; the
majestic procession that formed the
guard Of honor on the last march of the
Unknown Soldier to the victorious peace
of honorable death.
Who were these strangers. these
grim-faced, silent men-these inter-
lopers on this path Of the victors. who,
carrying their flags, marched the other
way? Where did they come from?
Whittier are they bound?
They are Americans, and some Of
them have faced the sun as they
marched on Pennsylvania avenue be-
fore-not, as they marched yesterday,
with the setting sun behind them. They
came from the far west, from the far
north, from the far south. They came
from home, wherever home might be.
And where are they going? Yester-
day they marched toward the Capitol.
For them the grandeur Of that dome,
chastely carved in white from the dusk
Of evening, meant refuge and they ap-
preached it as men who are tired and
would ask shelter for the night. They
did not go as men who would destroy
it, who have lost their faith and would
tear it down In the blindness Of bitter
establishment.
They still have faith. Is it faith
worth saving. this simple reliance on
their Capitol toward which they march,
bearing their flags? Is it wise to ridi-
cule them for their errand, as pitifully
futile as it may be? Is it not possible
to enlist them again in another war
for the preservation Of their Capitol
to make them understand that they
are not dependent upon 1t, but 1t is
dependent upon them? Cannot they
be told that It stands not for them
alone, but for their children and their
children's children, and for one hun
dred and thirty millions Of other Amer
leans whose claims upon it are just as
strong, whose reliance upon it Is as
complete? ~
Unknowing, they marched yesterday
IN silent. awesome protest against the
preaching of those whose empty words
have brought them here. Who knows
but what they have won victory, not
only for themselves, but for the Amer
ican people, victory against false
prophets who hold too lightly the
sacred duties Of high trust, and are