The Detroit tribune. (Detroit, Mich.) 1935-1966, 1936-02-08
BY Alma Bean Loving

vi as tOulC 10 HSi ONSI WIOuSHl
nerves.
The day had been warm and
every one in the hospital had
seemed TO feel its effects. Patients
were cross. Dortors more gruff and
nurses bearing the brunt of II all.
She turned in the direction of
Capital Hill with a feeling, she
imagined, a prisoner must expert
ence when Jail doors open for the
first time.
Mary wanted to see the SO called
bonus marchers. The thought had
persisted for several hours. A de-
sire to mingle with them as in war
days her hands had smoothed the
pillows of many of the country's
heroes. She was one who realized
their worth. their grit, and had
learned TO respect and love them
as brothers. Many had traded good
jobs for guns only to find them
selves, on returning, supplanted
by ones who had claimed eXemp-
ton on various preteXts, Some new
Ell regained their foot hold because
war had exacted its pound OF flesh.
She felt a certain kinship. Looked
on them as comrades.
Mary neared the magnificent
building with a feeling of awe. She
never approached it with out the
sensation of confronting some thing
almost holy. This building held the
reins that governed the destiny Of
this country The huge, high pill
lars, loftily sublime. The green
lawns. George Washington's
Utopia.
Mary Wells could now see the
men. Thousands of them. Grouped
around the Capital steps and its
enVirons. Her eyes grew mistily
tender as she gazed on the shabby
looking army of men once called
Americas finest. Waiting for the
success or defeat of the bonus bill.
All races, all creeds. Standing as
one man in this fight. Not for De-
mocracy-but subsistence.
There is no band now to fill
them with the spirit of patriotism.
No flag waving in their honor. No
crisp uniforms. Just weary, un-
kempt men.
Mary stared thoughtfully at the
men within her range Of vision and
wondered if Capital Hill had ever
Witnessed just such demonstra-
ton as this. Looking up to the
dome of the Capital she visioned
the father of his country looking
down with pity and sadness in his
heart. What would he say to this
group of forlorn citizens. The ones
once entrusted with the honor of
their country.
Some carried an air Of toler-
-a.nce, while some were grim and
moody. Others were braggadocious.
What does a country owe such
men?
Mary wondered if she knew any
OF them She longed to meet one
whose wounds she had dressed or
whose temperature she had taken.
Then their leader arose on the
white House steps. There was a
solemn hush as he spoke.
"Men we are defeated, but not
crushed. We now have an oppor-
tunity to show them we are still
real soldiers"
They broke into cheers and song.
Mary remembered other cheers
and songs while they were racked
with pain. Stoics when the cards
were stacked against them
For several minutes discussion
became general and excited.
AS Mary stood and watched
them, memories came and tugged
at her heart. Memories of past days
and nights. OF gun powder, poison
gas and air raids.
She wondered where those COM
rades were. Little Tim Clarity,
with his leathery, freckled face and
his bowed legs. A western man.
Tim always brought to Mary's
mind a picture she had loved in
child hood in her fourth reader. A
COW boy, astraddle his pony, look
ing off over the plains. A man con-
tent with the world. Tim would
sing his western songs. He sang
when the angel of death seemed to
be drawing near. Mary had pulled
him out by sheer grit and her
never say die spirit.
Then,-there was John Smith,
nick-named alias" by his buddies.
They declared he was fighting I'M
der a nome-de-plume. Might as
we'll call himself John Doe, and
they'd laugh. John did not mind
their joking. 1t was all in fun and
war. Big, splendid, courageous
John. A thinker. He didn't believe
in looking around thing, but
through it. He believed God in
tended a mans head for something
besides a hat. Quiet and studious,
but liked by every one. Won his
Cross of War by driving his brain
ahead of Heiniss and the Ger
man lost.