The air in Washington, D.C., was thick with tear gas. The streets were a battlefield, littered with choking men who had once fought for this country and now found themselves fighting against it. The year was 1932, and the U.S. government had just ordered an armed assault on its own veterans—men who had marched to the capital not to overthrow the government, not to riot, but simply to collect the money they had been promised.

They called themselves the Bonus Army, and they had every right to be there.

The Great Depression had left them penniless, while Congress sat on their promised bonuses like some bureaucratic dragon hoarding gold. These were World War I veterans, men who had crawled through mud and machine-gun fire, gassed in the trenches and told they were fighting for something greater. Now, they were homeless and starving, building shantytowns in the capital, waiting for lawmakers to do the right thing.

The House of Representatives passed a bill to give them their money early. The Senate killed it.

That’s when Herbert Hoover panicked. He was already the most unpopular president in America, a walking punchline whose name was now slapped onto the shantytowns where the poor and jobless huddled for survival—Hoovervilles, they called them, a monument to his failure. And now, there were 40,000 desperate men camping outside his office, demanding what was theirs.

Instead of meeting them, instead of listening, Hoover called in the troops.

General Douglas MacArthur—never a man to do things halfway—rolled into the capital with tanks, cavalry, and 600 armed troops. Among his officers was a young, ambitious Dwight D. Eisenhower, who would later call the entire thing a national disgrace.

They attacked.

Tear gas filled the streets. Soldiers on horseback charged into the crowd. Bayonets were fixed. Gunshots rang out. Infants suffocated in the smoke. The veterans were driven out of the city—pushed across the Anacostia River, where their makeshift camp had stood for months. And then, as the final insult, the government set it on fire.

Washington, D.C., burned. The people watched in horror. And Hoover’s presidency was finished. Four months later, he was obliterated at the ballot box, swept away by the very outrage he had created.

The veterans had lost the battle. But by 1936, they had won the war—Congress finally passed a bill giving them their money. They got what they were owed.

But not before the government gassed, beat, and burned them out of the capital.

NINETY-THREE YEARS LATER, IT’S HAPPENING AGAIN.

The names have changed, but the betrayal feels the same.

Donald Trump spent years branding himself as a champion of veterans—but now, he’s slashing their jobs by the tens of thousands. His administration is cutting 80,000 federal positions, and because nearly one-third of the federal workforce are veterans, that means tens of thousands of men and women who served this country are now being thrown into the gutter.

They’re not just losing their jobs—they’re losing the very institutions they built. The VA is hemorrhaging workers. Veteran mental health services are on the chopping block. The men and women who put their lives on the line are being kicked to the curb so Trump can keep slashing the government apart, piece by piece.

And now, they’re marching.

MARCH 14, 2025: GET TO D.C.

This isn’t just about veterans. This is about all of us.

The Fourteenth Now! (14thNOW) movement has called for a massive protest in Washington, D.C., on March 14, 2025. Veterans will be there. Federal workers will be there. The people who were robbed of their votes in 2024 will be there. The people who have watched democracy get stripped for parts will be there.

And you need to be there, too.

This isn’t an internet protest. It’s not a petition. It’s not a symbolic statement. It’s the real thing. A massive, flesh-and-blood movement taking over the streets of Washington. A moment in history where the people who refuse to let this country fall apart come together and say not on our watch.

The march is peaceful, but it will be loud. It will be impossible to ignore. It will be one of the largest demonstrations against Trump’s second term.

The location is set. The National Mall, between 4th and 6th Streets NW. The time is set. The only thing missing is you.

PACK YOUR BAGS. GET ON THE ROAD. SHOW UP.

March 14 is eight days away.

That means you have just enough time to get your plane ticket, train ticket, bus ticket, rental car, or road trip plan together.

Make it a weekend. Call in sick. Get your friends together and drive to D.C. If you’ve been waiting for the moment to stand up, this is it.

Because history is watching.

The last time veterans marched on Washington, they were met with tear gas and tanks. The country saw it happen, and the president who ordered it was never taken seriously again.

Now, another disastrous president is about to make the same mistake.

What happens on March 14 will matter. What happens next will matter even more.

You can either watch it happen from your couch—or you can stand in the streets and be a part of it.

Get to Washington.

March.

Make history.