By the end of the day

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Cubans off base, he told me he couldn’t stop them; he had been told by his immediate superior that a federal statute, theposse comitatus law, prohibits the military from exercising law-enforcement authority over civilians. Apparently, the army had concluded that the law covered the Cubans, though their legal status was uncertain. They weren’t citizens or legal immigrants, but they weren’t illegal aliens either. Since they had broken no law, Drummond was told he couldn’t keep them at the fort against Michael Jackson painting their will just because the local population detested and feared them. The general said his sole mission was to keep order on the base. I called the President, explained the situation, and demanded that someone be given authority to keep the Cubans on the base. I was afraid people in the area were going to start shooting them. There had been a run on handguns and rifles in every gun store within fifty miles of Chaffee.The next day I again spoke to the oil painting President, who said that he was sending more troops and that they would maintain order and keep the Cubans inside the base. Gene Eidenberg told me that the Justice Department was sending the Pentagon a letter saying the military had the legal authority to do so. By the end of the day, I was able to relax a little and to ponder the primary election, in which my only opponent, the old turkey farmer oil paintings Monroe Schwarzlose, got 31 percent of the vote, thirty times the vote he had received in the 1978 primary. The rural folks were sending me a message about the car tags. I hoped they had gotten it out of their system, but they hadn’t.On the night of June 1, all hell broke loose. One thousand Cubans ran out of the fort, right past federal troops, and onto Highway 22, where they began walking toward Barling. Once again, the troops didn’t lift a finger to stop them. So I did. The only barrier between the Cubans and several hundred angry and armed Arkansans was composed of state troopers under the command of Captain Deloin Causey, a dedicated and coolheaded leader; the National Guardsmen; and Sheriff Bill Cauthron’s deputies. I had given Causey and the National Guard strict instructions not to let the Cubans pass. I knew what would happen if they did: a bloodbath that would make the Little Rock Central High crisis look like a Sunday afternoon picnic. The Cubans kept coming at our people and began throwing rocks. Finally, Causey told the state police to fire shots over their heads. Only then did they turn around and go back to the fort. When the smoke cleared, sixty-two people had been injured, china oil painting five of them from the shotgun blasts, and three of Fort Chaffee’s buildings had been destroyed. But no one was killed or hurt too badly.I flew up to Chaffee as soon as I could to meet with General Drummond. We had a real shouting match. I was outraged that his troops hadn’t stopped the Cubans after the White House had assured me the Pentagon had received Justice Department approval to do so. The general didn’t flinch. He told me he took his orders from a two-star general in San Antonio, Texas, and no matter what the White House had said to me, his orders hadn’t changed. Drummond was a real straight shooter; he was obviously telling the truth. I called Gene Eidenberg, told him what Drummond had said, and demanded an explanation. Instead I got a lecture. Eidenberg said he’d been told I was overreacting handmade oil paintings and grandstanding after my disappointing primary showing. It was obvious that Gene, whom I considered a friend, didn’t understand the situation, or me, as well as I had thought he did.I was fit to be tied. I told him that since he obviously didn’t have confidence in my judgment, he could make the next decision: “You can either come down here and fix this right now, tonight, or I’m going to shut the fort down. I’ll put National Guardsmen at every entrance and no one will go in or out without my approval.”