By ADDIE W. HUNTON and KATHRYN M. JOHNSON Illustrated BROOKLYN EAGLE PRESS BROOKLYN, NEW YORK...

REMARKABLE achievements are worthy of remarkable acclaim. This justifies our desire to add still another expression to those already written relative to the career of the colored American soldiers in the late World War. The heroic devotion and sacrifice of that career have won appreciative expressions from those who, from a personal point of view, know but little of the details. How much more then should they who walked side by side with those brave men in France realize the merit of their servi

THE great thrilling, throbbing spirit of war did not reach the United States until that memorable spring of 1918. Then it came in a mighty tidal wave of vitalized force and energy. Our country, woefully late, was at last awakened to terrific speed. Great human cargoes and innumerable tons of supplies held transports and ships to their guards. Cities, towns and villages were suddenly transformed into great inspirational centers of war activity. Meanwhile we were watching the map of France, noting

THERE are many American boys now who are quite familiar with the Louvre, Boulevards, Notre Dame and Napoleon’s Tomb at Paris but who know absolutely nothing of the Metropolitan Museum, Fifth Avenue and its Cathedral, or Grant’s Tomb. The many ports of France were particularly the home of the colored soldiers, so that landing at Bordeaux it did not seem strange to be greeted first of all by our own men. But it did seem passing strange that we should see them guarding German prisoners! Somehow we

IT was our privilege to go overseas as welfare worker under the auspices of the Y. M. C. A., and from the time we entered active duty until we finished our work at Camp Pontanezen, we can conscientiously say that we had the greatest opportunity for service that we have ever known; service that was constructive, and prolific with wonderful and satisfying results. The contact with a hundred thousand men, many of whom it was our privilege to help in a hundred different ways; men who were groping an

IT was our greatest hope, when we left that great city of the Middle West, in May, 1918, that we might have the privilege of serving those soldiers whom we had seen march proudly away about six months before, and entrain for the city of the South, there to prepare to take their part on the great western front, in the world’s greatest war. It was at once a joyous and heart-aching privilege to follow them from the spacious 8th Regiment Armory, through the penetrating breeze from Lake Michigan, in

THERE was little difference in the spirit of those who went to France as welfare workers and those who went as soldiers. Both felt the urge of the hour—both desired to be stationed where they could give most—serve most. Hence it was not strange that we reached the Y headquarters in Paris hoping to be forwarded to some one of the fighting units, and that during the ten days of preparation for the camp, we were looking wishfully toward the front. Indeed, one of us had come from Illinois, and had a

STEVEDORES, engineers, and labor battalions had been rushed to France to blaze the trail for the American forces. Already the 15th New York, the 8th Illinois, 371st and 372nd Regiments had worked and fought their way to the thickest of the carnage. The 92nd Division was waiting for the final word that would carry them across. And yet the twelve million colored people of the United States had not fully answered the call. None, however, were more willing to serve the country in its hour of peril.

PRESS and pulpit, organizations and individuals were beseeching and demanding in 1918 that the Red Cross add some of our well-trained and experienced nurses to their “overseas” contingent, but no favorable response could be obtained. Meantime, the Paris Headquarters of the Young Men’s Christian Association cabled as follows: “Send six fine colored women at once!” This call came so suddenly that for a while attention was diverted from the Red Cross issue that had been so uppermost in all minds. S

IT was a master mind that first conceived the idea of sending tired soldiers away from the shattered havoc of war and the incessant routine of camp life, to find rest and recreation. The most beautiful and historic places in France, left untouched by battle’s fire, were selected and opened as Leave Areas. Had the Young Men’s Christian Association done no other bit for the American Expeditionary Forces except equip and maintain these Leave Areas in France, it still would have done a colossal piec

THE relationship between the colored soldiers, the colored welfare workers, and the French people was most cordial and friendly and grew in sympathy and understanding, as their association brought about a closer acquaintance. It was rather an unusual as well as a most welcome experience to be able to go into places of public accommodation without having any hesitations or misgivings; to be at liberty to take a seat in a common carrier, without fear of inviting some humiliating experience; to go

THE chief educational work to be done among the colored troops overseas was that of teaching them to read and write, as large numbers were unable to sign the payroll. These men were drafted into the army often without regard to age or physical fitness. One man from Texas, upon delivering a company of men to a lieutenant whom he thought to be white, remarked that he had brought him a good bunch of Negroes, and had plenty more down there if he wanted them. At first, he said, they took all the men

THOSE who know the native love and ability of our race for music will not marvel at the statement that colored soldiers sang, whistled and played their way through the late war. There were days of hunger and thirst; days full of deathly fatigue; days filled with the dense smoke and deafening uproar of battle; days when terrible discriminations and prejudices ate into the soul deeper than the oppressors knew. But through it all there was salvation—the salvation of the music that welled so natural

ALTHOUGH the church as an organization and as the most direct exponent of the Prince of Peace, had no part in the welfare work during the war, yet it was the contributing and inspirational force behind the organizations and individuals who played such an important part in the developing and the maintaining of the morale of the soldiers of the American Expeditionary Forces. The chaplains were direct, but not official representatives of the church, while the Y. M. C. A., the Y. W. C. A., the Knigh

SPRINGTIME had come again, but so different from the spring of that other year. Then the voices of spring had been deadened by the thunderous guns around Verdun, Soissons, and Chateau Thierry. Then those guns with their deep and ominous challenge were holding the whole world in tense and fearful waiting. Women of every land were listening with tender yearning and burning anxiety for a word from their heroes on the fields of France. Men of mature years who had been a part of the conflicts of othe

THERE were days of travel from one post of duty to another, and days of recreation that took us away from the camp for a little but seldom away from the soldiers themselves. Army restrictions were as numerous and as intricate as the barbed wire entanglement of the front. But in spite of limitations, and in some instances because of them, we had many novel and interesting experiences in what we called Stray Days. Waiting, as simple as it seems, could sometimes be one of the most trying ordeals of

WE verily believe that the scriptural passage used as an introduction to these thoughts, is the rock upon which the colored people of America must build the superstructure of their civilization for all their future. It offers the only sure solution for their many difficulties, although it must be accompanied by righteous and indignant protest against injustice. Some were not anxious for the colored soldier to take a part in the great World War. They felt that it would be a needless sacrifice for