He was a lady-killer—tall, dark-haired, handsome in his army officer's
uniform. Beaufort George Swancutt was his romantic name. Last week he
reached the climax of a disordered career, whose early details the Army
had somehow missed or ignored. After twelve hours of shocked, tight-lipped military censorship,
Colonel E. R. Sarles, commander at Camp Anza, near Riverside, Calif.,
finally told the story: Second Lieut. Harry J. Light and two girls were sitting in the Camp Anza
officers' club drinking beer with 2nd Lieut. Swancutt when the
lady-killer suddenly leaped to his feet, began firing his .45-caliber
service pistol. The girls collapsed, their fluffy hair awry. Shot in the chests, both
died. They were Lourdine Livermore, 18, and Dorothy Douglas, 19, of
Long Beach. Other women screamed. Swancutt fired more shots which
wounded Lieut. Light and Lieut. Aldace Minard. Then he rushed from the
club. He ran to the officers' quarters and called out Captain Aubrey G.
Serfling. When the astonished captain appeared, Swancutt shot him in
the belly, then dashed through the camp, still firing. Serfling later
died. Swancutt pinked Corporal Robert Sampson, leaped into a staff car, waved his .45 at Sergeant John
E. Roberts and made the sergeant drive him down the dark road. Near a police substation at Arlington he ordered Roberts to stop. Ray
Schlegel, an aircraft worker, Schlegel's wife, eight-month-old baby and
cousin were approaching in a car. Swancutt waved the Schlegels down. He
was ordering them out of the car just as Policemen E. F. Cole and A. B.
Simpson dashed up with guns drawn. Again the wild-eyed Swancutt opened fire. Two bullets landed in
Schlegel's chest, two hit Policeman Simpson, who kept firing as he
fell. Policeman Cole, a pistol marksman, blazed away. That was the end
of the rampage. Swancutt was lugged off to a hospital, charged with
murder, held for a military trial. Dark Past. That was the story. At week's end no one had given any reason
for 31-year-old Swancutt's violent behavior except, unofficially, that
he was a man who could not handle beer, that he was in love with
Dorothy Douglas. Several other things needed to be explained : In La Crosse, Wis., Swancutt was well and unfavorably known. He had been
divorced, had married his wife again . At the La Crosse police station are 15 entries against his
name. Among them: attempted suicide, drunk & disorderly conduct,
larceny. He was serving a 90-day sentence for vagrancy when his draft
board called him up. The police let him out to join the Army. Despite this record, he was admitted to Ft. Benning, Ga. Officers'
Candidate School. Somehow he got through Benning's tough, work-crammed
infantry course. Three months later the unstable Swancutt got his
commission.
