Back at my quarters in BOQ I walked on air. Aunt Lucy with her everlasting dustcloth fiddled around the gilt sword knot of the class of 1871 prize sword. And as she dusted it, she hummed the final verse of the spiritual she had sung so often for me.
“I’se goin’ to lay down my burden—
Down by the riverside, down by the riverside, down by the riverside.
I’se goin’ to lay down my burden,
Down by the riverside.
I ain’t a goin’ to study wah no moh!”
Tossing my helmet and goggles onto the bed and reaching for my suitcase, I began packing my duffel for the return trip to Washington. Aunt Lucy was folding my best blue blouse with its shiny three stripes and, best of all, my new gold wings pinned on its breast. Under her breath she kept humming.
“I ain’t a goin’ to study wah no mo!” I stopped to look at her.
“Aunt Lucy,” I demanded, “is it by accident or design that you keep singing that song at me?” Aunt Lucy chuckled.
“Well, sah,” she replied in her deep contralto, “ah thought maybe now you done learned to fly like de angels, you might like to think a little about peace.”