Break Up?

For the past six weeks Pelham Glassford, superintendent of the District of Columbia police, has served as the Government's grinning, good-natured host to the Bonus Expeditionary Force. The youngest Army Brigadier in France, he understood these tattered, jobless, hungry Veterans who without invitation had marched by thousands upon Washington. He helped them build crude quarters on Anacostia flats. He handled their scant funds for food, dug deep in his own pocket, none too well lined, for more. He kept the peace between a dozen rival factions and earned the affectionate respect of each. Altogether General Glassford gave Washington and the country a remarkable demonstration of mob management without benefit of tear gas, riot club or machine gun.

Last week Superintendent Glassford thought he was about to be relieved of most of his 12,000 charges when the Government at last moved to send them home. Taking his first official notice of the B. E. F., President Hoover recommended to Congress a $100,000 appropriation to send the men home, feed them on the way. House & Senate acted promptly. Each Veteran was to be advanced the price of a cut-rate railroad ticket, allowed 75-c- per day for food during the journey. No gift, the advance was in each case to be deducted from the final payment of the Veteran's bonus certificate. The offer was good only until July 15. The first day some 600 discouraged Veterans took advantage of the chance to ride home, applied for Government largesse. Perhaps a break-up of the B. E. F. was at hand.

The sagging spirit of the underfed B. E. F. appeared during its second parade. Early last week in the shuffling silent line of march from the Washington Monument to the Capitol were 4,701 men, 13 women, 17 children--about one half of the police census of the B. E. F. A drum and two bugles furnished all the music. General Glassford on a motorcycle circulated among the marchers, took the friendly salutes of leaders. Parades, he reasoned, do no harm, use up animal spirits. At the Capitol ranks were broken and the Veterans sprawled about to listen to political speeches.

The B. E. F.'s food situation became so acute that Commander-in-Chief Walter Waters flew to New York to beg supplies. There Adam Hat Stores, Inc. donated 90 tons of food, of which 1,500 Ib. of beef was rushed to Washington by plane. In Commander Waters' absence, Communist John Pace, leader of the Workers' Ex-Service Men's League, arose to attack his dictatorship. A thousand conservative Veterans began closing in on the noisy little Red. Suddenly out of nowhere appeared General Glassford. "Pace has just as much right to speak here as anyone," he shouted. "Any of you who disagree with him and don't want to listen, go to some other part of the camp and play baseball."

The ragged crowd, awed by such a show of fair play, fell back, let Pace finish his harangue, unharmed and unattended.

Later General Glassford encountered Negroes and whites brawling on the dusty ground. Pushing them apart with his bare hands, he warned: "We're all Veterans together and there'll be no fighting among Veterans."

Meanwhile Commander Waters loudly resisted the Government's attempt to sap the B. E. F. "The $100,000 offer is an effort to send us back to our home town so we can starve again," he proclaimed. "The Government isn't giving you any thing. It's lending it to you and you'll have to pay it back." His followers stiffened and the break-up seemed about to fail.

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