Cook's Army

From Newport, Wales, to London is roughly 200 miles by road, and by road a small army of 400 unemployed miners, old men with sticks and young men with fresh complexions, set out last week to present a petition "in boots" to Parliament calling attention to the suffering and distress in the Welsh coal mines.

There was a sharp tang in the cold, raw air as they started merrily to such songs as the "International" and the "Red Flag." Leading the procession were red flags and the two banners which read: "On to London, the seat of our trouble" and "We demand bread for our people, justice for the miners." All were stoutly shod and all carried an extra pair of "boots." A rolling kitchen and a motor truck filled with supplies followed them, and there was an ambulance with well-trained male nurses to look after sore and swollen feet.

Who financed the march? None other than that fire-eating "devil-dog" "Emperor" A. J. Cook, General Secretary of the Miners' Federation, who spent months raising the necessary funds. But where was the "Emperor"? Not among the marchers, but far away in London attending to "urgent business." True, he did wire the "boys" that he would be with them for a Sunday, but what is one day out of the 12 that the "army" expected to take to accomplish its journey? These were some of the questions and answers of supercilious critics.

Came the army to Bristol, first stop, where the good citizenry served tea to the foot-weary marchers and where pretty girls coaxed the younger marchers to trip a measure of jazz dancing with them. Later, the rolling kitchen got busy and soon after night fall a one-legged war veteran was serving hot food to the cry of "roll up"--the equivalent of the U. S. "come and get it."

Came the army to Bath, over an ancient road built for the war chariots of Julius Caesar. Bath, too, has its fair quota of pretty girls and they likewise enticed the young men from their weariness, while the older ones enjoyed rest.

Came the army to Chippenham, where hot tea and biscuits (crackers) were served to them at Labor headquarters. They came in the dead of night, their miners' lanterns swinging by their side. No pretty girls could lure them from their sleep.

Went the army on toward London.