The Salvation of Music Overseas
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 naturally in the souls of the colored soldiers. In the midst of the French the artistic temperament of our soldiers found a warm welcome and a favorable atmosphere in which to unfold and find full expression; and, although it manifested itself in many ways, it found no other realm half so alluring as that of music. Individually and in groups, colored soldiers gave themselves to the enjoyment or serious study of music.
In the hut the average life of a piano was but of short duration. Every moment from early dawn to late night, this instrument was in constant use. One became so accustomed to its continuous sounds as to be unconscious of them. We returned to America hoping that for the remainder of our lives we might be spared hearing any form of “Blues,” for whatever else he might play, a fellow would finally finish with a touching rendition of some one of the many “Blues.”
There were melodies of joy and melodies of sorrow. We heard our soldiers on the coast of France chanting in unfailing rhythm as they unloaded the great cargoes from America. We heard them in Southern France singing in joyous abandon as they sailed Lake Bourget, ascended Mount Revard or hiked up to Hannibal’s Pass in the Alps. We heard them in the night watches at Romagne as they tenderly reburied their comrades who had fallen on the fields of battle. We heard them at the port again, as they looked longingly towards America and sang, “It’s a long, long trail.” Ever in our ears will we hear the harmony of those thousands of voices as they were blended in song for religious service, for the speed of work or for mere pleasure. Always this music breathed a wistful poignancy, but always it breathed, too, the matchless will and spirit of the race who sang. Nothing strengthened more the bond of loving sympathy that existed between the French and colored American than this musical temperament. Our bands played their way into the very souls of the French.
1. Lieut. James Reese Europe and Men of the 15th New York. 2. Band Master Oliver Mead. 3. Band of the 815th Pioneer Infantry, with Men on leave, at Challes-les-Eaux.
And these bands that always filled us with martial pride and dispelled all fear and dread! We think, of one night in our camp. The 807th Pioneer Infantry would entrain on tomorrow for the front. Under its enthusiastic and highly progressive bandmaster, Lieutenant Vodrey, this regimental band was giving its last show. Hundreds of black and white men filled every inch of the spacious hut from floor to rafter. In the front rows sat the regimental officers, camp officers and French friends. All eyes centered upon the stage where either the orchestra of fifty men was playing or Opal Cooper was singing in the sweetest and most expressive tones, or the men were demonstrating by act or stunt their wit and humor. The hut rang with applause or laughter all that wonderful evening. Fun and merriment ran high during the rather ambitious hut reception given the band after that evening’s entertainment, for they were trying to eat salad and sherbet without the use of forks and spoons which they had been told to bring but had quite promptly forgotten. It was rather difficult to realize that tomorrow those men would be facing toward the thundering guns at the front. We heard of the 807th band again and again as it won honors in France, playing before the crowned heads of the Allies; of their band leader making an enviable record at a French band school, and finally we met them again at Brest. There, with a pardonable pride, we bade them bon voyage as they returned home triumphantly bearing their laurels.
The fame of Europe’s Band, as it was familiarly called, spread over all France as well as America. One single occasion on which we were permitted to hear this band in France is worthy of note. We had been honored as delegates to the Conference of Allied Women held in Paris in August, 1918. The program, the delegates, entertainment, everything, including the garden party tendered by President and Mme. Poincaré, the afternoon at the home of Mr. and Mrs. Theodore Roosevelt, Jr., and the banquet at the Palais d’Orsay had quite won our hearty interest and admiration and we had reached the final and crowning session of the Conference. The great Theatre Elysées was crowded, although the lights were yet turned low. Someone informed us that the orchestra in the pit was composed of colored men. Immediately we came to our feet. Try as we might we could not see the men, but the leader, Lieutenant Europe, sat elevated, and so we recognized him. In spite of the addresses by great personages, in spite of the royal opera singer and the wonderful chorus, for the remainder of that evening our thoughts centered themselves about this band of colored Americans playing before the élite of Europe and America. It was a significant moment when, with a great martial note, this band of the 15th New York Infantry began the French National Hymn, summoning the great audience to its feet as President Poincaré and party entered their box. Time and time again the playing of these colored Americans thrilled the house into rapturous applause. After the audience had been dismissed and the lights again turned low, admiring friends, among whom were Mr. and Mrs. Theodore Roosevelt, Jr., stood by and the band played on lingeringly and tenderly as if somewhere voices were whispering that it would be one of the last great triumphs of its famous leader.
Music was one of the chief attractions furnished by the Leave Area for the tired, depressed men who were sent there for rest and recreation. There came the 803rd Pioneer Infantry Band under the capable direction of Sergeant Major Bailey. These men gave us so much joy and entertainment in their playing that not only did the Y make efforts to have them retained permanently in the Leave Area, but the French people were quite as eager to have them, and showered praises and flowers on them when at last they were ordered back to their regiment.
Then came the 815th with their fine Western pride and spirit playing their way, too, into the heart of the Area. We met them again at Romagne when, with the band of the 816th Pioneer Regiment, they were playing daily to counteract the depressing influences of their surroundings. We stood near them and watched with tear-filled eyes as they paid their humble homage on that memorable thirtieth of May when General Pershing had come to dedicate that largest military cemetery. We were with them again at the Port of Brest where, with their wonderfully stirring music they, too, fought in that battle for morale. We learned to know them well—those California lads—and to love them.
No finer men went to France than the men who composed the 802nd Pioneer Infantry, and that may account for the really high quality of the work of its band. No band seemed to adhere quite so closely to classical selections, and they would most naturally draw the French to their feet whenever and wherever they played. While resting in the Leave Area, they graciously gave us several concerts.
1. Bugler Hamilton White. 2. Band Leader Wm. Bailey. 3. Sgt. Jefferson, Saxophonist. 4. St. Nazaire Band. 5. Band of the 802d Pioneer Infantry. 6. Band of the 803d Pioneer Infantry.
We followed the history of the St. Nazaire Band with a certain pride and interest because, in the early days when we entered that town it was a small struggling group with but few instruments, the sounds from which can be but faintly described by the word horrible. It was encouraged by the Young Men’s Christian Association, who gave it a thousand dollars for instruments and music. We watched this band grow and lose its crudeness with almost incredible rapidity, until a year later, when it visited the Leave Area, it was our joy and pride. It is sad to record that at the very zenith of popularity, its history was saddened by the sudden and tragic death of Sergeant Stevenson, the assistant bandmaster, who fell from a pole at Chambery. Again the beautiful French spirit was demonstrated by the populace of the town in a mass of floral offerings at the funeral of this soldier. Always with the French it was “Nos fleurs et nos coeurs.” The writer shall always have a peculiar remembrance of the St. Nazaire band, for at the time of the signing of the armistice she had succumbed to a serious illness as a result of overexertion. For a day or two the outer world was rather vague to her consciousness, but she was brought back when the band passed the house playing with full tone and complete abandon “Over There.” Looking into the face of her associate she learned that the armistice had been signed and that this playing was but an incident of the jubilation that had been in progress for several hours.
The Regimental Band of the 805th Pioneer Infantry was organized very late, but it became famous overnight, especially at Chateau Chehery, near Grand Pre. The Regimental Headquarters were in the famous and beautiful Chateau de Chehery, and there the band entertained the French, British and Americans of high rank who were constant visitors.
The story of the 808th band who had the honor of playing for President Wilson as he sailed home from Brest in June, is best told by one of its members who wrote this letter while they were in France:
“When they left Camp Meade the watchword was ‘Over There,’ and as the band of the dashing 808th Pioneer Infantry played that tuneful strain upon leaving the good old United States of America, they gave courage and cheer to the three thousand boys in line, and filled the hearts of wives, sweethearts, mothers and friends with that kind of spirit which wins wars—an unbreakable faith. But I am to tell you of these boys ‘Over There’ and I am to get my story from the spontaneous expression of boys who just needed a strain of some good old ‘rag’ or quaint Irish ballad to spur them on to the next town or a beautiful symphony to lull them off to sleep as they lay in pain on their cots.
“This band of colored musicians has indeed upheld the tradition of its race, for their music contributes much to make the name of the 808th Pioneer Infantry popular at the front. To begin with, they are right at the front being only a few kilometers behind the line, and although in danger of attracting the attention of hostile forces, they realize that the spirit of the boys must be kept cheerful and refreshed. So, often they assemble in a well protected spot and play for the constant line of khaki as it moves along the road toward the enemy. And how those boys enjoy the music only they can tell. But from the quickened step, the straightened shoulders and the whistling and singing, one can really feel the refreshing and satisfying effects of the band. When the band stops playing, however, there is no question as to the appreciation of the music, for from hundreds of throats comes the cry, ‘Carry On!’
“There is small wonder, though, that these boys have developed into such a well-balanced band, for when one meets the ‘Chief,’ as he is familiarly known among his fellow officers, the reason is easily explained. With a natural talent for music, the ‘Chief’ combines years of training as bandmaster and leader. It was he, Lieutenant James E. Wheelock, who brought to the Carlisle Indian School athletic prowess which struck terror in the hearts of all followers of the pigskin in the East, and he also developed the Carlisle Indian School band into one of national repute, so now it is he, realizing the power of music, who adds his talent and leadership to the one great end. I must not fail, however, to give due credit to the boys under his brilliant instruction. Naturally gifted as musicians and with deep love for it, these colored boys have developed into a respected organization, and with a realization of their power, they have unhesitatingly given their services where they might cheer some homesick boy or ease the pain of those suffering from wounds of battle. Transported in trucks through mud and rain, they have gone miles to play in hospitals and rest camps, and have brought to our nurses some little respite from the constant cry of pain.
“These boys have also developed other features which bid fair to permit them always to retain a warm spot in the hearts of the boys of the American Expeditionary Forces. Could you but hear Terry and Bloxson pull off their skit entitled ‘Sick Call in the Army’ in that dismantled stable which the fellows have the nerve to call a theatre, or could you hear the melodious string quartette, or a beautiful saxophone solo, or the sweet voices of the band, you, too, would do as the hundreds of boys do who crowd that place every Monday—jump to your feet crying ‘Carry On!’ Let us thank these boys and Lieutenant Wheelock for their unselfish spirit.”
Other regiments, combatant and non-combatant, had their bands that won honor and praise in the same way as the few did with whom we had personal touch, and then there were great numbers of singers and shows. In any camp an impromptu musical program was not far to seek.
But everywhere the music of the colored soldier was a faithful index of the spirit behind the song. There might be heard painfully monotonous or sombre chords—but wait a little and the atmosphere would change. There would come creeping into the music aspiration and elevation. Always the psychologist could discern the sorrow, pain and rebellion of souls that suffered unjustly, but always he would also discern through the exaltation and nobility of the music that its fundamental basis was faith and vision.
Lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world.
Matthew 28:20.