Good Hope Road: A Novel (29 page)

Jim and the Major were caught in the storm as they headed back to Anacostia. By the time they reached their rooms, father and son were both drenched to the bone.

It poured all night, finally petering out towards daybreak. A light steam was rising from the sidewalks when Jim finally woke the Major. The Major groaned and turned over. ‘Breakfast,’ a concerned Jim said. ‘You need to eat something.’

The Major muttered incoherently and was drifting off to sleep again when he remembered. He sat up in bed, looking at Jim with bloodshot eyes. ‘The Capitol. What time is it?’

It was already crowded by the time they got there, but somehow the indefatigable Connor managed to track them down. ‘They stopped the Death March at dawn,’ he cheerfully filled them in. ‘There’s going to be thousands of us here today anyhow, waiting to hear what Congress decides.’

Today, 16 July, was the last day that Congress would be in session for the year. If they adjourned without revisiting the Bonus issue, all legislation on the Bill would officially be shelved until further notice.

Alarmed by the ever increasing numbers pressing upon the Hill, the police had organised themselves into cordons. More veterans kept arriving by the minute. A huge contingent from Anacostia showed up, banging on drums to sound their advance. The crowd rushed forward, galvanised by the gusto of the newcomers as the police blew furiously on their whistles and tried to maintain order.

The Major staggered, carried forward by the momentum of the crowd. Jim grabbed hold of his arm, steadying him. Despite the balmy temperatures and the press of bodies around them, the Major was shivering. He clasped his arm protectively about his father’s shoulders, buffering him from the crowd. ‘We should leave,’ he yelled. ‘You need to see a doctor.’

The Major shook his head.

The crowd appeared to have doubled in just over an hour and was turning increasingly rebellious. There was another collective surge forward as they pressed against the cordon. For a few tense moments, it seemed as though there was a full-blown riot in the making, when a volunteer nurse grabbed a megaphone.

‘Come on, boys!’ she cried. ‘Who’s singing “America” with me?’

Connor let out a whoop. ‘The Flower of Saint Theresa, we call her,’ he shouted in Jim’s ear. ‘She had a flower shop in New York, but when those damn Wall Street bankers closed her down, she decided to dedicate her life to service instead.’

‘Come on,’ the Flower urged in her nurse’s uniform, blond hair shining. ‘Come on, boys, together – “America”!’

‘You heard the lady,’ the leaders of the march yelled, following her example. ‘Let’s not have any trouble now, not after all we’ve been through. Let’s sing, boys, let’s give Congress a show like they’ve never seen before.’

The crowd fell still, a great calm descending upon the Hill. ‘Sing!’ she urged again, and they did. All the veterans gathered there, thousands now, their voices lifting together in song.

‘
My country, ‘tis of thee,
Sweet land of liberty,
Of thee I sing
;
Land where my fathers died
,
Land of the pilgrims’ pride,
From ev’ry mountainside
Let freedom ring!
’

The powerful beauty of the anthem, of so many voices singing in perfect unison, raised the gooseflesh on Jim’s arms. Beside him, his father was mouthing the words; when he looked over at the police cordon, many of them were standing to attention as they too, sang along.

‘
My native country, thee,
Land of the noble free,
Thy name I love
.’

The sound of close to ten thousand voices raised together in song was so profoundly affecting that orders were issued from within the Capitol – the police cordons were to be disbanded. The Bonus Army would be permitted to occupy all of the steps of the Capitol provided they left a walkway for members of Congress. Furthermore, the veterans could send a delegation to the Speaker of the House, to present their case.

The leaders huddled, putting together the delegation, with Connor immediately nominating the Major. They presented the Speaker with a petition not to adjourn Congress, but merely to recess and reconvene, so that the Bonus Bill might be reconsidered. The Speaker accepted the petition without comment.

There was nothing to do now but wait.

When he returned outside with the rest of the delegation, the Major looked even more pale than before. By sheer force of will, he’d controlled his shivering while in the meeting, but he felt cold, so cold, as if he’d been swimming in snowmelt. He sat down heavily next to Jim, avoiding his son’s worried gaze.

Connor looked delightedly about him. ‘Have you ever seen anything like this? What a show our boys are putting on today. I ain’t much of a betting man, but something will come of this, it’s gotta. Good Hope Road,’ he said exultantly to Jim. ‘I told you, didn’t I? The road of good hope.

‘Say!’ he exclaimed. ‘The Major all right?’

The resourceful Connor found a doctor nearby and they rushed the Major over. ‘Bronchitis leading to pneumonia,’ he pronounced. ‘He fainted, you said?’

The veterans, meanwhile, continued their vigil. There were so many men amassed along Pennsylvania Avenue that finally at 10:30 p.m., an anxious White House announced that President Hoover would not after all be making the traditional trip to Capitol Hill to oversee the adjournment of Congress. Just under an hour later, at 11:26 p.m., the seventy-second Congress of the United States adjourned. Many Congressmen left stealthily through back doors and the underground passages of the Capitol to avoid encountering the men still waiting hopefully outside.

It was a while before the Bonus marchers began to realise that the Capitol lay empty. There was nobody inside; Congress had adjourned without taking any action on the Bonus Bill. A crushed stillness fell over that vast crowd. Slowly, in twos and threes, the veterans began their disappointed exodus back to the camps. Behind them, the Capitol loomed over the skyline, the dome of its cupola glittering against the inky, starless night.

19 July 1932

————————————

WASHINGTON, 19 JULY
.

With the Anacostia River and a summer sunset for a background, Major General Smedley D. Butler, retired officer of the Marine Corps, called on the Bonus Army tonight to stand firm. Thousands of Bonus marchers remain hunkered down in the camps even after the adjournment of Congress a few days ago.

‘If you want to go home and haven’t the courage to stick it out here, then go on home,’ Butler shouted. ‘But the rest of you, hang on. As soon as you pull down your camp flags, this thing will evaporate into thin air.’

Butler, who some months ago was shut off the radio for profanity during the course of a speech, took full advantage of the fact that there were no censors here tonight. With a ‘damn’ or a ‘hell’ in every few words, he evoked rousing applause as he addressed the veterans. Blue shirt-sleeves rolled up, white collar opened, and dripping with perspiration in the evening heat, Butler exhorted and berated. Men hung on to his every word, with even the camp mascot, Rooster Curtis, pausing in his pecking at the base of the podium as if to hear what the General had to say.

‘It makes me so damned mad to hear some people speak of you boys as tramps. There isn’t as well-behaved a group of citizens anywhere as you are. They didn’t call you that in ’17 and ’18. I never saw such fine soldiers. I never saw such discipline.

‘You’ve got a great issue. This is the greatest movement of any kind in the history of the United States. This is the greatest demonstration of Americanism this country has ever seen.’

‘I’m coming to DC,’ Madeleine declared. ‘It’s been far too long as it is, and now you say that you might be there another week or more! I’m coming, and that’s all there is to it.’ Her voice lowered throatily. ‘I miss you.’

He rested his forehead against the wall, filled with longing.

‘Are you going to say anything?’

The memory of her face swam into sharp focus. The silk of her skin against his own, that day in the water.

‘Jim? Are you there?’

‘Yep.’

‘Well, say something!’

‘It’s awfully hot here,’ he offered.

‘James William Stonebridge!’ The indignation in her voice carried clearly over the wires. ‘Is it too much to ask that you say you miss me too?’

He grinned. ‘I’ll see you soon.’

It was now 23 July, exactly a week since the Major had collapsed on the steps of the Capitol. He’d burned with fever for days, hacking and coughing, even in his sleep. Finally, he’d broken into a sweat, rambling in delirium as he tried to throw off the covers. At one point during that night, he’d woken. He muttered something.

‘What?’ Jim asked, startled.

The whites of the Major’s eyes showed as he cast about. ‘Henry,’ he mumbled.

Jim bent closer. ‘Who?’

The Major burst into an agitated stream of French. Flinging the covers aside, he tried to rise. Jim held him back, but he struggled with surprising strength, the veins in his neck blue against the mottled skin as he strained. He groaned as he fell back against the pillows. Another unintelligible stream issued forth from his lips. He moaned again, and fell into a deep sleep.

That had been the turning point, after which his condition had steadily improved. The doctor pronounced his patient well on the path to recovery. Still, given his weakened condition, there was danger of a relapse. It was advisable that he rest for at least another week, he cautioned; travel was not recommended.

Jim had expected his father to chafe at this, but to his astonishment, the Major nodded resignedly. ‘Connor and the boys,’ he asked weakly. ‘How’re they holding up?’

‘Holding on. Here,’ Jim said, handing him the latest copy of the
BEF News
, ‘thought you’d like to read this. Butler’s address at Anacostia.’

‘He’s a good man,’ the Major muttered, scanning the article. He wanted to leave right away for the Anacostia camp, and frowned when Jim said he couldn’t, not yet. ‘Stop playing nursemaid, boy,’ he rasped irritably.

Jim stood his ground. ‘I suppose this means you’re getting better,’ he said unperturbed. ‘That’s what Ellie says anyhow – that if someone ill starts to get mad, it means they’re on the mend.’

The Major snorted. ‘Ellie also once told me to wash my head in sage tea. It would make the hair grow back again, she promised.’

‘Sage advice.’ Jim grinned. ‘She sent you a message, to get well soon. Suggested I get my hands on a bit of raw goose fat. You’re to rub it into your chest every night, she says it will get the chills out in no time.’

The Major shuddered at the prospect, the movement bringing on a fresh bout of coughing. He leaned back against the pillows, suddenly tired.

‘Stop staring like a jackass, boy,’ he said hoarsely. ‘It’s just a damn cough.’ He looked up at his son. ‘I’m fine,’ he said, his tone gentler. ‘You’ve had to follow your old man for days around the Capitol as it is. I’m fine,’ he repeated. ‘Go on, get out there and enjoy the day. We’re going to Anacostia tomorrow,’ he added as Jim was at the door. ‘
Tomorrow
, and I’ll have no arguments about that.’

‘Yes, Sir, Major Sir!’ Jim said, grinning as he mock saluted his father. He was shutting the door behind him when he paused. ‘Wasn’t too bad, you know.’

The Major looked up enquiringly.

Jim fiddled with the doorknob. ‘Wasn’t too bad at all, following my old man about,’ he said, the words coming out in a rush.