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GOP
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Today's memory was shared by reader J.C. in Kirkwood, MO:
My dad, John H. Anderson, served in the 92nd Infantry Division, 370th Infantry Regiment—the segregated group known as the "Buffalo Soldiers." I'm told that his was the only Black Division that saw infantry combat in Europe during World War II. By serving our country in a fight for democracy, even as a teenager, dad also helped support his mom.
As I came of age during the 1960's Civil Rights era, I've found my dad's service especially interesting. He enlisted in February 1943 and completed basic training at Fort Huachuca, AZ, the historic home of the all-Black Buffalo Soldier Cavalry Corps active during the 1800's Apache wars. Fort Huachuca became the primary training ground for the Army's all-Black infantry divisions during World War II.
Dad didn't talk much about the war, but he landed in Naples, Italy, and marched to Rome where an Italian artist sketched his portrait as a gift:
The Italians were excited to have liberators and most had never seen Black soldiers. My dad carefully rolled up the sketch and kept it in his field sack during his tour of duty.
Dad was a sergeant, heavy-machine-gunner and squad leader. He fought campaigns in Italy's Po River Valley and Apennine Mountains. Because of mountainous terrain, World War II Buffalo soldiers were sometimes forced to rely on pack animals for supplies and were terribly under-resourced. He told me about spending a cold Christmas Eve 1944 hunkered down on the mountainside as the ground shook under heavy artillery fire through the night.
White leadership during that war largely refused to acknowledge Black soldiers' leadership, courage and fighting abilities. Every action by Black troops was second-guessed through the lens of racism. Dad's division and his squad fought fiercely and persevered through engagements where he saw many fellow soldiers die in battle during enemy assaults.
Interestingly, Dad once refused an order that would have meant certain death for him and his squad. If he hadn't refused that order, my siblings and I would never have been born. He was "busted" for refusing the order but quickly regained his stripes because he was otherwise known as a soldier committed to getting the job done and doing it right. No excuses. Dad was trusted by his squad and everyone else who was willing to recognize his competence and courage.
Dad was once injured in action and returned to battle. But then, on the morning of April 5, 1945, the first day of the Allies' final European offensive, he suffered injuries when he and his squad took out a German tank and captured its crew near Lucca, Italy. This second injury marked the end of the war for Dad.
Many Black World War II soldiers who served abroad returned to the States to face continued race discrimination. Like Dad, most were not recognized until many years later for their feats of bravery and success in action. My parents searched for and eventually located records that led to Dad's service recognition with a Bronze Star and two Purple Hearts, delivered by an Army colonel on the day Dad retired from the U.S. Postal Service:
I learned a lot from my dad. At the top of the list are the importance of hard work, perseverance and always doing one's best. He preached the importance of knowing what's going on in the world and the value of being able to connect with people around the world.
During his war service, Dad gathered reconnaissance, using Italian to speak with people in the various towns and villages. At the age of 8, I discovered his Italian handbook and began to learn Italian and teach my 4-year-old brother, who was named after one of my dad's comrades who died in battle. To be sure, we didn't get very far. But throughout my life, Dad provoked my interest in foreign language study. I've intensely studied three and have dabbled in others.
Dad demanded that my siblings and I appreciate the importance of following orders and being on time... during the war, that was a matter of life or death. He was also willing to speak truth to power. My siblings and I were raised by the same rules by which Dad served this country: "Get the job done. Do it right. No excuses." I've taken from Dad the importance of knowing who I am, staying grounded in my values and knowing when to think for myself and act by my own convictions.
Thanks, J.C. (Z)