Ralph Tyler, the Negro newspaper man, who was sent to France as the official representative of the Afro-American press by the Committee on Public Information, has written many of the incidents, and told others from the rostrum. He has told how the small insignificant, crowded freight cars in which the soldiers traveled looked like Pullman parlor coaches to the Negro soldiers.
"To many of our people back in the 'States,'" wrote Mr. Tyler from France, "who saw our boys embark on fine American railroad coaches and Pullman sleepers to cover the first lap of their hoped-for pilgrimage to Berlin, the coaches they must ride in over here would arouse a mild protest. I stood at Vierzon, one of France's many quaint old towns recently, and saw a long train of freight cars roll in, en route to some point further distant. In these cars with but a limited number of boxes to sit upon, and just the floors to stand upon, were crowded some 1,000 of our own colored soldiers from the States. But a jollier crowd never rode through American cities in Pullman sleepers and diners than those 1,000 colored troopers. They accepted passage on these rude box freight cars cheerfully, for they knew they were now in war, and palace cars, downy coaches and the usual American railroad conveniences were neither available nor desirable.
"The point I wish to convey to the people back home is that did they but know how cheerfully, even eagerly our boys over here accept war time conveniences, they would not worry quite so much about how the boys are faring. They are being wholesomely and plenteously fed; they are warmly clothed, they are cheerful and uncomplaining as they know this is war and for that reason know exactly what they must expect. To the soldier who must at times sleep with but the canopy of heaven as a covering, and the earth as a mattress, a box freight car that shields him from the rain and wind is a real luxury, and he accepts it as such.
"There need not be any worry back home as to the maintenance of our colored soldiers over here. They receive the same substantial fare the white soldier receives, and the white soldier travels from point to point in the same box freight cars as afford means of passage for colored soldiers. In short, when it comes to maintenance and equipment, and consideration for the comfort of the American soldier, to use a trite saying, 'the folks are as good as the people.' There is absolutely no discrimination, and the cheerfulness of those 1,000 boys whose freight cars became, in imagination, Pullman palace cars, was the proof to me that the colored boys in the ranks are getting a fifty-fifty break."
"Two more stories have come to me," continues Mr. Tyler, "to prove that our colored soldiers preserve and radiate their humor even where shells and shrapnel fly thickest. A colored soldier slightly wounded in the Argonne fighting—and let me assure you there was 'some' fighting there—sat down beside the road to wait for a chance to ride to the field hospital. A comrade hastening forward to his place in the line, and anxious for the latest news of the progressing battle, asked the wounded brother if he had been in the fight; did he know all about it, and how were things going at the front. 'I sure does know all about it,' the wounded man replied. 'Well, what's happened to them?' quickly asked the trooper on his way to the front. 'Well, it was this way,' replied the wounded one, 'I was climbin' over some barbed wire tryin' to get to those d—n Boches, and they shot me; that's what I know about it.'
"A company water cart was following the advancing troops when a German shell burst in the ditch almost beside the cart. The horse on the shell side was killed, and the driver was wounded in the head. While the blood from his wound ran freely down his face, the driver took one look at the wreckage, then started stumbling back along the road. A white lieutenant who had seen it all stopped the driver of the cart and said:
"The dressing station is—"
"Before he could finish his sentence, the wounded driver, with the blood flowing in rivulets down his face, said: 'Dressing station hell; I'm looking for another horse to hitch to that cart and take the place of the one the shell put out of commission.'
"That was a bit of nerve, grim humor and evidence of fidelity to duty. A mere wound in the head could not stop that driver from keeping up with the troops with a needed supply of water."
Dr. Thomas Jesse Jones, who went to France under the auspices of the Y.M.C.A., sent back the following account of the burial of a Negro soldier at sea:
"A colored soldier was buried at sea today. The flags on all the ships of the fleet have been at half-mast all day. It mattered not that the soldier came from a lowly cabin. It mattered not that his skin was black. He was a soldier in the army of the United States, and was on his way to fight for Democracy and Civilization.
"The announcement of his death was signalled to every commander and every ship prepared to do honor to the colored soldier. As the sun was setting the guard of honor, including all the officers from commander down, came to attention. The body of the Negro trooper wrapped in the American flag, was tenderly carried to the stern of the ship. The chaplain read the solemn burial service. The engines of the fleet were checked. The troop ship was stopped for the only time in the long trip from America to Europe. The bugle sounded Taps and the body of the American soldier was committed to the great ocean and to God.
"The comradeship of the solemn occasion was the comradeship of real Democracy. There was neither black nor white, North nor South, rich nor poor. All united in rendering honor to the Negro soldier who died in the service of humanity."
First Lieutenant George S. Robb of the 369th Infantry was cited for "conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity above and beyond the call of duty" in action with the enemy near Sechault, September 29 and 30, 1918.
While leading his platoon in the assault at Sechault, Lieutenant Robb was severely wounded by machine gun fire, but rather than go to the rear for proper treatment, he remained with his platoon until ordered to the dressing station by his commanding officer. Returning within forty-five minutes, he remained on duty throughout the entire night, inspecting his lines and establishing outposts. Early the next morning he was again wounded, once again displaying remarkable devotion to duty by remaining in command of his platoon.
Later the same day a bursting shell added two more wounds, the same shell killing the captain and two other officers of his company. He then assumed command of the company and organized its position in the trenches. Displaying wonderful courage and tenacity at the critical times, he was the only officer of his battalion who advanced beyond the town and, by clearing machine gun and sniping posts, contributed largely to the aid of his battalion in holding its objective. His example of bravery and fortitude and his eagerness to continue with his mission despite the several wounds, set before the enlisted men of his command a most wonderful standard of morale and self-sacrifice. Lieutenant Robb lived at 308 S. 12th Street, Salina, Kansas.
Second Lieutenant Harry C. Sessions, Company I, 372nd Infantry, was cited for extraordinary heroism in action near Bussy Farm, September 29, 1918.
Although he was on duty in the rear, Lieutenant Sessions joined his battalion and was directed by his battalion commander to locate openings through the enemy's wire and attack positions. He hastened to the front and cut a large opening through the wire in the face of terrific machine gun fire. Just as his task was completed, he was so severely wounded that he had to be carried from the field. His gallant act cleared the way for the rush that captured enemy positions.
In August, 1918, back in the Champagne, a German raiding party captured a lieutenant and four privates belonging to the 369th Infantry, and was carrying them off when a lone Negro, Sergeant William Butler, a former elevator operator, made his presence known from a shell hole. He communicated with the lieutenant without the knowledge of the Germans and motioned to him to flee. The Lieutenant signalled to the four privates to make a run from the Germans. As they started Butler yelled, "Look out, you Bush Germans! Here we come," and he let go with his pistol. He killed one Boche officer and four privates, and his own men made good their escape. Later the German officer who had been in charge of this raiding party was captured and his written report was obtained. In it he said that he had been obliged to let his prisoners go because he was attacked by an "overwhelming number of blutlustige schwartzemaenner." The overwhelming number consisted of Elevator Operator Bill Butler alone.