Snap, Crackle, Pop

The Mead Committee was ready for Kentucky's Andrew Jackson May. Its members and lawyers knew what they wanted to ask the chairman of the House Military Affairs Committee about his tie-in with the Garsson brothers' shell game.

But at the last minute there was a phone call: ailing, 71-year-old Representative May was home in bed with a chronic heart disorder. The Garsson hearings went on, but they gave off only a series of scattered pops.

Mortar Trouble. One of the loudest snaps was touched off by letters from two combat veterans, ripping into the Chemical Warfare Service's highly touted 4.2 mortars. C.W.S.'s Major General Alden

H. Waitt admitted they were right. He guessed that ten to twelve G.I.s had been killed by premature explosions of 4.2 shells. Later he raised the total to 29 killed and 83 wounded. Finally in confusion he agreed to make a third report about the weapon that had been represented to civilians as one of C.W.S.'s great achievements.

Superior Cushion. Another minor incident made a familiar crackle. When Murray Garsson's son Captain Joseph H. Garsson--of the Chemical Warfare Service, of course--was court-martialed and convicted for refusing to obey an order to emplace his 4.2 mortar company on the battlefield, it was Andy May who had turned up to lend a helping hand.

In a letter to Ike Eisenhower, Kentucky's May had urged a special investigation because "his father is one of my warm personal friends." General Waitt, who had also frolicked through the Garssons' Hotel Pierre wedding reception (TIME, July 29), delivered the letter in person, and looked into the matter himself.

Probably the help given by Messrs. May and Waitt had not been needed. Even before they turned on the heat, the sentence of dismissal had been remitted on recommendation of the court. It looked as though Captain Garsson was more a victim of his own tactlessness than of cowardice. But he himself complained last week that his Army career had been uncomfortably cushioned. Reason: his superiors seemed to have orders from above to "take care of Garsson and protect him."

One example was quickly uncovered. The man who recommended his promotion to captain was wartime C.W.S. boss Major General W. N. Porter, now a civilian consultant for the American Cyanamid and Chemical Corp.

Second Wind. In the absence of their star witness, the Senators were having a field day with the Army, and particularly C.W.S.'s General Waitt. This week Comptroller General Lindsay Warren gave them their second wind. In a blast at the War Department, he named three officers who had stepped out of uniform and into fat jobs with the same companies for which they had just drafted contract termination agreements. Said he: cost-plus procurement "is the greatest device ever invented for pumping the Treasury."

But the big act was still Andy May. When he stepped on the stage, the rest would retire to the wings.

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