BUTCHERING OF THE "BULL." PRISON RIOT
AS THE war reached its peak, military prisoners began to arrive in ever increasing numbers. One day, while a large contingent of court-martial victims from overseas were lined up awaiting admission to the prison, somebody hung a sheet from a front-wall window on which had been daubed in black letters: "Welcome Home, Soldier!" There was a big to-do about that incident, but nothing was ever done about it.
Occasionally I would help out in the photographic department during the noon hour. One morning, while marching in line to the office, I had seen a young aviator being led in under special guard. He was heavily manacled. Handcuffs, anklets, and an iron band around the neck had been riveted on, and all three were connected with a dangling chain. He still wore a uniform of the U.S. Army and was carrying his rather unusual irons with a deprecating grin. Everybody, including "Bull" Leonard, remarked about the young man's pluck. An hour or two later in the record clerk's office, I was helping Wehde to fingerprint and photograph the new arrival. Tanner, in the blacksmith shop, had, we all hoped painlessly, hammered off the irons. Even in prison dungarees, "CaptainEddy" looked more like a soldier than a convict. We became acquainted at once. With both of us it was the kind of friendship that lasts. Captain Eddy explained that he had been an air corps instructor and that his sentence was life-imprisonment—plus ten years. I was anxious to learn more about him.
I had progressed in Mr. Reno's office to the point where I was now intrusted with precision analysis of disputed fingerprint patterns and points of identification from bromide enlargements. Also I had started to illustrate a book James Holt was writing on the subject. Furthermore, my work had been of such nature as to