My Colored Battalion

The Second Battalion of the Three Hundred and Sixty-fifth United States Infantry (the battalion we are considering) was a remarkable organization, in many ways, in spite of many things, a wonderful organization. In the battle line and out of the battle line, before the armistice and after the armistice, there was not a phase of military art or of the awful game of war at which this battalion did not excel. At going over the top, attacking enemy positions, resisting raids and assaults, holding under heavy shell fire, enduring gas of all kinds, at patrolling no-man’s land, at drill, on hard marches, in discipline and military courtesy, at conducting itself properly in camp or in French villages, and in general all around snappiness, it excelled in all.

Much of this could be seen by going over the battalion and regimental records. But the greatest thing about that battalion is not a matter of direct record in the written data and reports. It is a matter of undying record in the minds and hearts of the men who were that battalion. I speak of the magnificent morale, their mutual pride, their teamwork, their spirit of earnest, cheerful willingness and their unsurpassed endurance and bravery in the performance of duty.

It will seem strange to most of you, almost impossible to many who saw service in other outfits, when I tell you that during my entire service with the Three Hundred and Sixty-fifth Infantry, which I began as a Captain in December, 1917, and ended as a battalion commander when the regiment was broken up at Camp Upton, New York, in March, 1919, not one colored officer under my command was ever placed under arrest, and not one colored officer was ever threatened with an efficiency board. And during the many trying months that I commanded the Second Battalion, both in and out of the front lines, only two enlisted men were tried by me as summary court--and they were acquitted.

The same is true of the nine hundred officers and men from all units of the regiment who live in or near Chicago that I brought from Camp Upton to be mustered out of service at Camp Grant. Those of you who were in Chicago remember how proudly the Camp Grant Detachment of the Three Hundred and Sixty-fifth Infantry paraded through the streets on March 10th, 1919, without a hitch or a single breach of discipline.

No doubt that is hard to believe, for it does upset a host of time honored theories and teachings and honest convictions about military discipline and efficiency, but the facts as stated can be verified. Members of that Battalion and Regiment are right among you. Ask them. These were by no means specially selected or picked outfits. The officers and men were of all kinds, all conditions, mostly draft men and from all sections of the United States. They were representative of their race as a whole, yet in every instance a little company or military police discipline or, in rare cases, a short conference with the captain or major did the work. Considering the excellent service rendered by the units in question and especially by the Second Battalion of that Regiment, I regard this as a great tribute to our American Colored Soldiers. There is much, very much that is worthy of serious consideration about the discipline, the efficiency and the morale of that organization.

And now at the outset, before I go any further with this lecture, I wish to tell you, my colored friends, that I am proud to have been the commander of that battalion. My talk necessarily will be mostly about that Battalion, for I commanded it during the Regiment’s experience in the battle lines and during the greater part of my service with the Division. And now more than ever I believe, as I had ample reason to believe then, that no battalion of any army whether white or black or of some other race or color could have done the same things and done them any better than did the Second Battalion of the Three Hundred and Sixty-fifth Infantry, One Hundred and Eighty-third Brigade, Ninety-second Division of the United States Army in France.

It may interest you to know, especially after what I have said about methods of securing discipline--for results count--that I won my commission as a major and what was far more, my job as a front line infantry battalion commander for efficiency under fire. I have a few citations and letters and one signed testimonial by white and colored officers who were witnesses, for coolness, bravery and the like. Thirty-five or forty officers and men were cited for bravery in Division orders. Medals? No, I have received no medals or special decorations. Nor has any living member, officer or man, of my Battalion. In fact, to my knowledge, not one living officer or man of the entire Three Hundred and Sixty-fifth Infantry has received any decoration or medal of any sort whatever--American, French, Belgian or any other kind. This, on the face of it, to anyone who knows the facts, would seem either a most glaring injustice or mistake.

Many of the members of my Battalion and of the Regiment, especially those who were with us at the time of the armistice and during all or part of the awful days and weeks just preceding it, feel and resent this most keenly. In the army you know everything must go through “military channels”--from company to battalion to regiment to brigade to division and on up. I recommended some of my officers and men for decorations. And if I know anything about meritorious conduct, real achievement, bravery, valour and the like, they richly deserved them. These recommendations reached brigade headquarters. It is my opinion that certain regular army officers saw fit to head them off.

Soon after the armistice we had a succession of strange regimental commanders, who showed no interest in pressing our case and so because of a combination of unfortunate circumstances the Regiment is medal-less. I understand our Brigade has received some recognition. I do not begrudge any officer or man his medal or medals if he actually earned them, but I do regret it that my Regiment and my own Battalion could be thus ignored. You may believe it or not when I say that I care nothing about medals for myself. What little I did in the cause of Democracy--by that I mean what I did for my Colored Battalion as well as in trying to help whip the enemy--is a matter with me and my own better self.

The citations of which I am incomparably more proud than of the citations I did get or the medals I didn’t get were not printed with ink nor stamped on metal. They were written with a point of fire into the brave, true hearts of my colored soldiers.

And who knows (if I may indulge in a little sentiment)? Who can tell? Perhaps those who bravely endured the tourtures of hell, because of the foolishness of vain oppressors in this wicked world and who uncomplainingly and unselfishly gave all they had, all any one could give--_gave their lives_--in defense of our great nation and in the cause of Democracy. Perhaps, I say, some of the spirits of that Battalion’s dead have already whispered in the glorious Realm beyond where the great, all-powerful God of justice, of love, of peace reigns supreme and with Whom man’s character is the only thing that counts. Perhaps they have whispered or will whisper, “Our Commander not only braved the fury of the Hun, but he scorned the petty prejudices of a few white persons and treated us like officers and men.”

Officers designated for service with the Eighty-sixth Division, which was to be formed at Camp Grant, Illinois, were ordered to report for duty August, 28th, 1917. I so reported and was assigned to the Three Hundred and Forty-first Infantry. Being a captain I was selected to command “G” Company. I received my quota of the first drafted men to arrive, on the second of September. They continued to arrive and in a few weeks I had two hundred and ninety-two men in addition to my five training camp lieutenants. The new organization had just gone into effect. Arms and equipment arrived slowly. There was more or less confusion; no one was right sure what to do and a company commander had a real job on his hands. Day and night I labored--drilled, studied, taught, did paper work, and then after three months or a little over, just when I was beginning to pride myself, like all the other captains, on having the best company in the regiment, and when we were all seeing visions of entraining for France, they began transferring our men--thirty or forty from a company at a time--to other divisions, and our hearts sank.

I tried to get transferred myself, for like many others, I wanted to soldier in France, not at Camp Grant. Company commanders were not being transferred to other camps, but just before Christmas I was ordered to report to the One Hundred and Eighty-third Brigade, a part of which was attached at Camp Grant. I was then assigned to the Three Hundred and Sixty-fifth Infantry, a regiment of that Brigade and of the Ninety-second Division (colored). I felt sure that the Ninety-second Division, since it was the only complete colored division, and there was not much danger of its men being transferred, would go to France long before the Eighty-sixth--and it did.

For a time I was with the supply company. Then I was transferred to the headquarters company, a rather uncertain and complicated organization in those days, with an authorized strength of seven officers and three hundred and fifteen men. I remained with that company until after our arrival in France.