The 1945 Black Wac Strike at Ft. Devens DISSERTATION Presented

The 1945 Black Wac Strike at Ft. Devens

DISSERTATION

Presented in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree Doctor of Philosophy in the Graduate School of The Ohio State University

Sandra M. Bolzenius

Graduate Program in History

The Ohio State University

2013

Dissertation Committee:

Professor Judy Tzu-Chun Wu, Advisor

Professor Susan Hartmann

Professor Peter Mansoor

Professor Tiyi Morris

Sandra M. Bolzenius

2013

Abstract

In March 1945, a WAC (Women’s Army Corps) detachment of African Americans stationed at Ft. Devens, Massachusetts organized a strike action to protest discriminatory treatment in the Army. As a microcosm of military directives and black women’s assertions of their rights, the Ft. Devens strike provides a revealing context to explore connections between state policy and citizenship during World War II. This project investigates the manner in which state policies reflected and reinforced rigid distinctions between constructed categories of citizens, and it examines the attempts of African

American women, who stood among the nation’s most marginalized persons, to assert their rights to full citizenship through military service. The purpose of this study is threefold: to investigate the Army’s determination to strictly segment its troops according to race and gender in addition to its customary rank divisions; to explore state policies during the war years from the vantage point of black women; and to recognize the agency, experiences, and resistance strategies of back women who enlisted in the WAC during its first years. The Ft. Devens incident showcases a little known, yet extraordinary event of the era that features the interaction between black enlisted women and the

Army’s white elite in accordance with standard military protocol. This protocol demanded respect all who wore the uniform, albeit within a force segregated by gender,

ii race, and rank. It is this conflict that gave rise to one of World War II’s most publicized court-martials, the black Wac strike at Ft. Devens.

iii

Dedication

I dedicate this dissertation to African American servicewomen who have waged “Triple-

V” campaigns for themselves, their communities, and the nation.

Vita

1977...... Bishop Watterson High School

1987...... B.S. Education, Ohio State University

2004...... M.A. History, Ohio State University

2013 to present ...... Graduate Associate, Department of History,

The Ohio State University

Fields of Study

Major Field: History

Minor Fields: African American History; Modern United States History

Table of Contents

Abstract ...... ii

Dedication ...... iv

Vita ...... v

Table of Contents ...... vi

List of Tables ...... vii

Acknowledgments...... viii

Introduction ...... 1

Chapter 1. The Army Diversifies ...... 28

Chapter 2. Introduction to the WAC ...... 73

Chapter 3. The Problems of Placing Black Wacs ...... 116

Chapter 4. Wacs Take a Stand ...... 165

Chapter 5. The Strike ...... 199

Chapter 6. Trial and Verdict ...... 238

Chapter 7. The Civilian Reaction...... 286

Chapter 8. Mutinous Behavior ...... 333

Chapter 9. Dissemblance through Military Protocol ...... 377

Conclusion ...... 430

Bibliography ...... 471

List of Tables

Table 1. Comparison of white and black Wacs' AGCT Scores, Ft. Devens, April 17, 1945 ...... 141

Table 2. Comparison of White Wac and Black Wac Assignments, March 9, 1945 ...... 186

vii

Acknowledgments

This dissertation’s journey has been unusually lengthy as other journeys, far from

Ohio State University, have waylaid its completion for over a decade. Consequently, this project has required the sustained faith of others in it and in me. Three persons in particular have stood this test of time. Without them, this dissertation would not have been possible. Professor Susan Hartmann has been there for me since the beginning of my graduate studies and is largely responsible for my interest in the strike at Ft. Devens. I first learned of the incident through her book The Home Front and Beyond in which she laid important groundwork for further studies of women in the military. During the research phase of this project, I most enjoyed sharing with her each new breakthrough interview and exciting archival find. Susan read numerous versions of my manuscript, including those written during my breaks from the university and after her recent retirement. I am grateful for her insight and guidance, many wonderful dinner conversations, and her willingness to be part of this project every step of the way.

Likewise, I am indebted to Professor Judy Tzu-Chun Wu and her stalwart commitment to the completion of this project. Her incisive commentaries were invaluable to managing, among other aspects of this dissertation, the multiple-identity contours so crucial to the story. Additionally, the independent graduate writing groups she sponsored set a needed pace for my progress and ensured numerous critical assessments for each chapter. I am grateful to Judy for supporting me and being such a terrific advisor after Susan’s retirement. She is without a doubt a first rate scholar and mentor. As an Early Modern

European historian, Geoffrey Parker’s primary field of study may seem worlds apart from

viii my own, yet his contributions to this twentieth-century American story have been essential. Having read earlier drafts, he shared his celebrated knowledge of constructing historical narratives through delightful conversations--occasionally spiced with subtle advice on moving forward. From the start, Geoffrey believed in this project, and he believed in my desire to complete it. He nudged me to this end, or, as we have often said,

“he made me do it.” I am most grateful to these three Ohio State professors, mentors, and friends for their unwavering support, generous time, inimitable expertise, and patience in this endeavor.

I also greatly benefitted from a host of other professors at Ohio State University.

Professor Tiyi Morris emphasized the theoretical foundations of African American women’s history that proved invaluable to my analysis, and Professor Peter Mansoor alerted me to intricacies of military history that I would have otherwise overlooked. I would like to thank them for their dedication to this project as members of my dissertation committee and for the critical direction they provided. Additionally, Paula

Baker and Hassan Jeffries guided my foundational studies through essential readings and discussions. Birgitte Soland, Stephanie Shaw, and Lilia Fernandez aided the development of the history of the Ft. Devens Wac strike through scholarly commentaries and personal encouragement. To these and other professors, including Mark Grimsley and Kevin

Boyle, I am profoundly grateful.

My graduate student colleagues also have been supremely supportive. Whether during seminars or independent writing groups a number of them have provided crucial feedback of my work. Thanks to Aaron George, Peggy Solic, Adrienne Winans, Jeffrey

Vernon, Leticia Wiggins, Delia Fernandez, Andrew Skabelund, Liz Perego, Brandy ix Thomas, and many others who diligently spent hours reading hours reading lengthy drafts of unpolished chapters. I also extend my appreciation to Joseph Arena, Keishia Lai,

Marcus Nevius, John Brown, Reyna Esquivel-King, Noel Foster, and Joel Higley. Their professional interest in my work and personal camaraderie have greatly enhanced this journey.

I also owe a debt of gratitude to those whose personal accounts of the Wacs who served during World War II have uniquely enriched the narrative. Anna Morrison, one of four Wacs court-martialed at Ft. Devens, kindly revisited the episode for me despite its painful memories. Stacie Porter, the surviving daughter of another court-martialed Wac,

Alice Young Porter, sent me articles from her mother’s scrapbook about the strike, opened her home to me as I visited nearby archives, and introduced me to other family members who could shed light on the topic. Stacie’s pride in her mother’s action ensured that younger generations of her family knew about the incident long before I came along.

Teresa Barnes, Professor of African History at the University of Illinois, has generously shared with me excerpts from her scrapbook about her great-aunt, WAC officer Margaret

Ellen Barnes Jones. I sincerely hope that this dissertation meets the expectations of those who entrusted these treasures to me.

Friends and family have also been part of this endeavor through their interest in and support of my work. The steadfast encouragement by the incredible Strasser family has been more inspiring than they know. Likewise, I thank Meta Peterson, Chikako Cox, and Tim. I am grateful to Connie Hammond who volunteered much of her time to edit the final draft, as did Dr. Ruth Staveley, who provided feedback for earlier versions as well.

My chief-editor throughout these years has been Lee Bolzenius, who also doubles as my x chief-supporter and beloved mother. I also thank my brother Dan Bolzenius. Were it not for his dramatic accounts of the ancient Melian dialogue and other historical tales when I was in the single-digit age bracket, I do not know that I would have developed the same interest in history that has led to my own story-telling.

I am grateful to the organizations and individuals who have facilitated this project. This includes the Ruth Higgins and the Robert Bremner scholarships and the

Bradley Fellowship; these awards provided the financial support for archival research and the time to complete the dissertation. The individuals include the knowledgeable and helpful archivists at the following institutions: the National Archives at College Park,

Maryland, the Library of Congress and Mary McLeod Bethune House in Washington,

D.C., the Truman Library in Independence, Missouri, the Women’s Army Corps Museum at Ft. Lee, Virginia, and the Ft. Devens Museum at Ft. Devens, Massachusetts.

Lastly, I thank the first Wacs who served during World War II, thereby paving the way for women who later enlisted. In early 1978, I was one of them as I headed to Ft.

McClellan, Alabama, one of the two Army posts at the time that provided basic training for women. Immediately on arrival, I lined up with the other troops of Company E to collect fatigues, mint green shirts, dress greens, and various other Army uniforms. Nearly all required Army insignia, so on the left lapel of each, I duly pinned, as ordered, a brass disk bearing the raised profile of Athena, the Greek goddess of war. A month later, the drill sergeant entered the barracks and ordered its female recruits to remove the Pallas

Athene insignia. “Why?” we asked. She shot back, “We’re all soldiers now.” Her curt retort that brooked no further discussion masked a monumental moment. Unbeknownst to any of us at the time, the Army was dissolving the Women’s Army Corps. For over xi thirty years, the Pallas Athene had designated female soldiers as part of this separate force. Its absence suddenly signified our transformation from Wacs to soldiers in the

Regular Army.

I remember the moment well, including the lack of discussion in the barracks regarding the removal of the insignia from lapels. After all, the women in my company had assumed we were soldiers when we enlisted. What did yet another brass pin needing spit-shine polishing matter to those of us who had worn it for just a month? Certainly, the drill sergeant’s dispassionate delivery gave no hint of anything special afoot. She might as well have issued a routine order to “fall-out” (in formation), “give me twenty” (push- ups), or prepare for an inspection. Only decades later did the dry brevity of her reply strike me. The Pallas Athene surely carried greater significance to this non-commissioned officer than to newbie recruits. Was her seeming indifference a way to refrain from expressing her thoughts on the passing of an era? She may well have recognized the advantages of being fully part of the Regular Army, but then why did she not speak to us about them? Whatever the reasons, neither she nor anyone else referenced our fleeting status as we removed our Pallas Athene. Consequently, it was only when I began researching the Wac strike at Ft. Devens that I realized the significance of that act for women in the Army, and for me personally. For at least one month – like Alice Young,

Anna Morrison, Mary Green, and Johnnie Murphy -- I, too, had been a Wac.

xii Introduction

On March 6, 1945, Mary H. Smith visited the Philadelphia branch of the National

Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP) with a disturbing letter in her hand. It was from her niece, a member of the Woman’s Army Corps (WAC) stationed at Ft. Devens, Massachusetts. In the letter, Pvt. Harriet Warfield described widespread racial discrimination in the Army, claiming that her commander relegated African

American Wacs to menial duties. Mrs. Smith found a sympathetic advocate in the local

NAACP representative, Carolyn Moore, who immediately dashed off a letter to

Thurgood Marshall, the organization’s chief counsel. Moore warned Marshall that

Warfield and two other Wacs at Ft. Devens were considering a strike, “reportedly favoring courts-martial since that will give them an opportunity to air their grievances.”

Stressing urgency in resolving the matter, Moore added that the situation could soon get out of hand.1

By the time Marshall received the letter, the move toward a strike at Ft. Devens had spread among others in the unit. As Warfield had indicated, the women in her company felt the WAC was not living up to its assurances that qualified women would be

1 Letter, Carolyn Moore to Thurgood Marshall, March 6, 1945, “Discrimination in the U.S. Armed Forces, 1918-1955,” NAACP Papers, Reel 12 (0934), Part 9, Series C, (Columbus: Ohio State University) microfilm), The Library of Congress.

1 eligible for available assignments regardless of race.2 Instead, their commanding officer,

Colonel Walter Crandall, routinely assigned black Wacs to orderly duties at the base hospital and white Wacs to more desirable positions as medical technicians and clerks.

Despite numerous complaints lodged over several months through their chain of command, the women’s officers had failed to respond to their grievances. Frustrated by lack of action via official procedures, they decided on a collective action to draw attention to their plight. On the morning of March 9, 1945, virtually all of the on-duty personnel of the black WAC Detachment, fifty-four women in all, staged a strike in protest of the discriminatory treatment they felt the Army accorded them. Their action was a court-martial offense.

At last, the women had found a way to force the Army to respond to their concerns, though not in the manner they had hoped. The next day, authorities detained four of them, each of whom had announced her preference to “take a court-martial” rather than resume race-based menial duties. What began as a large collective action now rested on the shoulders of just four Wacs. Though low-ranking African American women, privates Mary Green, Anna Morrison, Johnny Murphy, and Alice Young had challenged one of the nation’s most powerful institutions over its treatment of black

Wacs.

2 According to the military policy, there “would not be discrimination in the types of duties to which Negro women in the WAAC may be assigned.” Mattie E. Treadwell, United States Army in World War II, Special Studies, The Women’s Army Corps (Washington, D.C.: Department of the Army, 1954), 590.

2 Despite the power imbalance that favored the military, the Army’s decision to court-martial the Ft. Devens Wacs would unexpectedly prove as onerous for its officers as it did the four defendants. Immediately, the press converged on the case. Wacs were a recent phenomenon and black Wacs, just 6,400 of the 150,000 total who served in the corps during the war, were an even greater curiosity. Civil rights groups steadfastly supported the Wac defendants, well aware that black servicewomen presented a captivatingly fresh platform to denounce racially discriminatory policies. The Army had its civilian defenders, too, and these deplored any act of military disobedience. News of the incident spread rapidly through the nation. Within a week, citizens from across racial divides were weighing-in, many expressing sympathy for the “girls” and clamoring for justice on their behalf. So swift and unrelenting was the uproar that in the three week span between the strike and the final ruling, the women and their action had engaged the attention of the WAC Director, caused the resignation of a senior career officer, and required the intervention of the Secretary of War. It had also bewildered a number of high-ranking officers and their staffs, who openly questioned how a routine disciplinary hearing for an obvious act of insubordination could have warranted such widespread debate.

Why the surge in interest in a case involving low-ranking enlisted African

American servicewomen? After all, outside of the black community, black Wacs had garnered scant notice before the incident and, in fact, those involved in the Ft. Devens strike were guilty of disobeying orders. This dissertation considers this question through an examination of the black Wacs – their motivations, treatment, and resistance to racial and gender discrimination – and an analysis of racial and gendered military policies 3 during World War II. The study presents the early history of the WAC through the experiences of African American servicewoman; shows how the state, in this case the military arm of the U.S. government, attempted to shape American attitudes through its policies; and explores the resistance of African American Wacs and the broader community to policies that were particularly discriminatory. This study reasserts the presence of black Wacs during World War II.

While the collective historical memory of the nation largely celebrates the U.S. military personnel who served in the 1940s, even today it rarely acknowledges the role of black women. Volumes of academic studies and hundreds of novels and Hollywood films have featured the commendable acts of others in uniform, most of them (albeit not all) white males. The last four decades have seen increasing recognition of the role of

Americans of other ethnicities and of women who also contributed to the effort though, until very recently, they have rarely focused on black women. The impression left, therefore, is that during the war, as a groundbreaking analysis of African American women’s invisibility quipped, “all the women are white, all the blacks are men.”3

Certainly, black women represented a comparatively small proportion of the military, just four percent of the WAC that itself constituted just two percent of the entire strength of the U.S. Army. On the other hand, 6,400 black women enlisted in the WAC while just one-thousand women joined the all-white Women’s Airforce Service Pilots (WASP). The

3 Gloria T. Hull, Patricia Bell Scott, and Barbara Smith, eds., All the Women Are White, All the Blacks Are Men, But Some of Us Are Brave: Black Women's Studies (New York: Feminist Press, 1982).

4 attention given to the widely publicized (and photographed) Wasps has continued to elude African American Wacs.4

Similarly, the exploits of black servicemen as they fought the war abroad and discrimination at home are well known, perhaps most symbolically through the Tuskegee airmen who also faced courts-martial for resisting racist treatment. Consequently, resistance against segregation in the military appears in the existing literature to be one championed by men alone.5 The over a million black soldiers who served far outnumbered their female counterparts in the WAC, yet black women also engaged in resistance measures against the Army’s discriminatory policies. Tellingly, of the seventeen most publicized racial disturbances of 1944 and 1945 involving military personnel, two centered on Wacs.6

One of the most notable cases of resistance to racism in the military during the war is the Ft. Devens strike of 1945. Today, however, this strike is all but forgotten.

Nearly sixty years after Anna Morrison’s courageous participation in the action, she

4 No doubt the heavy dependence of the Army Air Force (AAF) on Wasps’ flying expertise to train male pilots, test planes, and ferry personnel and aircraft and supplies explains much of this deserved attention. Black women, however, did not enjoy such opportunities to prove their value. WASP Director Jacqueline Cochran strongly discouraged those who attempted to volunteer. Susan M. Hartmann, The Home Front and Beyond: American Women in the 1940s (Boston: Twayne Publisher, 1982), 45-47.

5 Two films featuring the Port Chicago Mutiny are History Undercover: Port Chicago Mutiny A&E, 1998 and Mutiny, Trimark Home Video, 1999. An excellent literary source is Robert L. Allen, The Port Chicago Mutiny, (New York: Warner Books, 1989). Two films based on the Tuskegee airman are The Tuskegee Airmen, HBO Home Video, 2010 and Red Tails, Twentieth Century Fox, 2012. A recent thorough literary study is Todd J. Moye’s Freedom Flyers: the Tuskegee Airmen of World War II (Oxford: Oxford University Press, USA, 2010).

6 See “Some Mutinies, Riots, and Other Disturbances,” in Florence Murray, The Negro Handbook, 1946-1947 (New York: Current Books, Inc. 1947), 373-374.

5 could not recall a single inquiry about the incident from curious contemporaries, journalists, or academic researchers.7 Few know about the erstwhile efforts of Morrison,

Green, Murphy, Young, and the other black Wacs who helped pioneer American women’s entry into the armed forces. Few, therefore, are aware of black servicewomen’s courageous acts of defiance during the war that challenged the Army’s discriminatory policies. Through a thorough examination of the Ft. Devens incident, I hope to help restore these women to the historical context of World War II. Not only were they among the first WAC recruits, but their distinctive identity as both African Americans and as women lend a unique layer of experiences of military personnel.

Through a micro history of the Ft. Devens case, I intend to contribute to the scholarship of African American servicewomen who served during World War II. To define the external factors impacting their experiences, I explore the state policies that segmented the Army by gender, race, and class. My research is therefore situated in the histories of gender and race in the twentieth century, women and African Americans in the military, and whiteness and white privilege in American society.

My study builds on Susan Hartmann’s The Home Front and Beyond: American

Women in the 1940s and Leisa Meyer’s Creating GI Jane: Sexuality and Power in the

Women's Army Corps during World War II.8 Early contributors to the growing field of women in the military, Hartmann and Meyer examine the state’s dilemma during the

7 Author’s interview with Anna Morrison, 26 March 2002.

8 Hartmann, Home Front and Beyond; Leisa Meyer, Creating GI Jane: Sexuality and Power in the Women's Army Corps during World War II (New York: Columbia University Press, 1993).

6 tumultuous 1940s as it sought to temporarily extend women and African Americans’ workplace boundaries without altering the nation’s gender and racial status quo. The authors premise their analyses on the intersectionality of multiple identities, unveiling state agendas that attempted to modify entrenched stereotypes without expanding conventional gendered parameters. For instance, when the state (Congress, the War

Department, and eventually the Navy and Marines) recruited women into the ultra- masculine domain of the military, it created separate auxiliary forces for them. In this manner, the state expected to transfer the women’s assistance role from the household to military bases. Conflicts arose when women either sought to break through boundaries or did not fit into them in the first place. The Ft. Devens strike stands among both

Hartmann’s and Meyer’s anecdotal examples to project these multiple intersections of gender, race, and sexuality within the military.

Though sparse, the earliest literature specifically devoted to African American women in the military lays important groundwork to examine military policy and troop experiences. Martha Putney’s When the Nation Was in Need is one of a handful of published studies of black women in the WAC.9 The author’s background as a historian and a Wac during World War II provides both scholarly analysis and first-hand accounts from the vantage points of black Wacs. Recalling the additional hurdles these servicewomen faced as both women and African Americans, Putney notes – on nearly

9 Martha S. Putney, When the Nation Was in Need: Blacks in the Women's Army Corps during World War II (New Jersey: Scarecrow, 1992). Two other valuable sources are Brenda Moore’s To Serve My Country, To Serve My Race: The Story of the Only African American WACs Stationed Overseas during World War II (New York, New York University Press), 1996. Moore has also published Serving Our Country: Japanese American Women in the Military during World War II (New Brunswick, N.J.: Rutgers University Press, 2003).

7 every page – the myriad measures, small and large, she and her comrades took to protest discriminatory treatment. One of her examples is the Ft. Devens strike. My research also draws on the history of African American men in the military. This far more extensive body of literature reflects the length and continuity of black soldier’s service, the millions who have served since the colonial period, and the connections of fighting and protecting the state to proving manhood and entitled citizenship. These sources provide the rich background history of race and the military as they detail the negotiations between the state and civil rights leaders during times of crisis. Occasionally, they also reference the

Ft. Devens strike as further evidence of the long, brutal tradition of segregation in the military and African Americans’ resistance to it.10

Collectively, these studies of African Americans in the military mark World War

II as a critical crossroad in the civil rights movement. Not since the Civil War had the

United States required, and courted, the extensive cooperation of African Americans. The latter who used this leverage to aggressively advance their civil rights agendas, especially demanding integration of the armed forces. Army officials refused to countenance integration, warning that it contravened the social norms of its troops and would therefore severely disrupt the military efficiency. Because the War Department needed African

10 Among the sources providing a long view of African Americans in the military are Philip S. Foner’s Blacks and the Military in American History: A New Perspective (New York: Praeger Publishers, 1974) and Richard Dalfiume’s The Desegregation of the U.S. Armed Forces: Fighting on Two Fronts, 1939-1953 (Columbia: University of Missouri Press, 1969). The scholarship of black servicemen continues to grow, though recent studies focus on specific aspects of the military rather than providing overviews as do these earlier works. Nevertheless, recent publications also greatly inform my research and conclusions. Two examples are Adriane Danette Lentz-Smith’s Freedom Struggles: African Americans and World War I (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2009); and Todd J. Moye’s Freedom Flyers: the Tuskegee Airmen of World War II.

8 American military troops and civilian support, however, it offered compromises.

Throughout World War II, it issued directives ordering the equitable treatment of all soldiers regardless of race, albeit tacitly within the confines of segregation. The contradictory nature of these policies ensured that the War Department would not be able to deliver on this promise, yet official directives that both endorsed and ordered equal treatment gave African Americans a seminal platform to demand it. Furthermore, the

Army’s hierarchal structure, massive bureaucracy, and accountability to civil authorities increasingly sensitive to racial issues necessitated a standard system of military protocol for the uniform treatment of its personnel. World War II proved to be a turning point in race relations in the United States, though the slope of the change curve was not as steep as African Americans had expected or hoped.

For other citizens of various ethnic backgrounds, the change during World War II was far more rapid. This was especially true for non-Anglos of European descent who teamed into the U.S. during the 1800s, not as whites, but as Irish, Italians, and

Hungarians. Accepting cultural differences as biologically inborn, immigrants and nativist alike fed into racial hierarchies in which Anglos presided and southern and eastern Europeans trailed behind. Not until after World War II would Americans transition from describing the various European nationalities as separate “races” to viewing them as different “ethnicities,” a term that fundamentally softened seemingly irreconcilable divides denoted by racial demarcations. As Thomas Guglielmo has illustrated in his study of Italian immigrants in Chicago during the early twentieth

9 century, non-Anglo immigrants were not “white on arrival.”11 They were, however, by mid-century gaining “whiteness,” and few venues conferred the adaptation as efficiently as the U.S. Army.

Because the Army typically met troop shortfalls by enlisting immigrants with few other options, it had long provided a gateway to Americanization and citizenship. During the Civil War, mainly Germans and Irish immigrants fought alongside Anglo American nativists. After the Civil War, newly arriving young men from Southern and Eastern

Europe gained a home, salary, and eventually citizenship papers though military service.

Diverse members of the Army regularly negotiated their perceived racial differences as they learned to live and soldier together.

Engagement in major battles overseas gradually convinced Army officials that a strong military force required a united force. In World War I, this led to an

Americanization program designed to lessen racial strains and create greater solidarity within its non-black units. Though successful, the program’s achievements were greatly undermined when discharged troops returned to segregated neighborhoods and familiar prejudices. During World War II, the Army revived the program to once again instill cooperation among its troops. As Thomas Bruscino has argued, the War Department, with deliberate purpose, celebrated the similarities of all European-Americans, regardless

11 Thomas Guglielmo, White on Arrival: Italians, Race, Color, and Power in Chicago, 1890-1945 (New York: Oxford University Press, 2003).

10 of national origin, in order to mediate a softening of America’s rigid racial divides and unite its forces.12

Meanwhile, the Army remained a segregated force, primarily between its black and white troops. Within this racial dichotomy, soldiers of European heritage fell on the white side of the divide as did Native American recruits and men of Chinese and

Mexican ancestry. Too few in number for the Army to segregate, these non-European categories became during the war, at least for Army purposes, white. (In contrast, the

Army segregated Puerto-Ricans recruited from the island and Japanese-Americans, the former mostly likely due to language barriers and the latter over security concerns.) As these soldiers worked, lived, trained, and fought together, many formed personal bonds that showcased a unified America of diverse people -- though under the banner of whiteness. Racism did not disappear among these troops as the complaints by Jewish,

Native American, and other minority soldiers verify, yet the meaning of “race” was changing, most favorably for Americans of non-Anglo European descent. Once classified

12 Thomas A. Bruscino, A Nation Forged in War: How World War II Taught Americans to Get along (Knoxville: University of Tennessee, 2010). The experiences of non-African Americans and non-European American soldiers and Wacs during World War II are beyond the purview of this dissertation, yet it must be noted that their inclusion into the white segment of the Army did not offer automatic respite from prejudice. A century of immigration laws and Supreme Court rulings over citizenship qualifications had codified persons around the world within a hierarchical structure of identity based on eugenic notions of race, national origin, and physical appearance. These state policies limited the rights of non-European immigrants and their progeny. For instance, Chinese Exclusion Acts denied persons of Chinese heritage, including those born in the United States, citizenship while aggressive Mexican border control operations charted in the 1920s increasingly identified those of Mexican ancestry as illegal aliens. Such state policies, in turn, validated strict immigration quotas for those deemed unassimilable. As a matter of practicality, the relatively low number of troops of non-European minorities in the Army typically precluded their segregation, but it did not prevent racial discrimination. Mae M. Ngai, “The Architecture of Race in American Immigration Law: A Reexamination of the Immigration Act of 1924,” The Journal of American History. Vol. 86, No. 1 (June 1999), 67-92. 11 as inferior to whites, they were suddenly identifying, and being identified, as white and enjoying aspects of white privilege. Historian David Roediger’ has labeled non-Anglo

European-Americans during this transition period “in-between whites,” a term that captures the gradual upward motility they experienced during the mid-twentieth century.13

As the World War II experiences of many black men and women in uniform illustrate, interest in similar upward mobility for African Americans did not resonant for all whites, whether established Anglos or in-between whites. At Ft. Devens, white officers expressed genuine befuddlement over African Americans’ and white liberals’ criticisms for assigning the majority of their black Wacs to cleaning duties. Rejecting charges of racism, they insisted that the women were best suited for this kind of work, as noted by their overall weak Army test scores. Indeed, Army officers professed to be at a loss as to how else they might have utilized black Wacs.

The emerging field of whiteness studies provides contexts for such deep-rooted, faulty sentiments. In The Possessive Investment in Whiteness, George Lipsitz ascribes them to white American’s acceptance, often unconsciously, of a racial dichotomy that uniquely privileges them. Relating whiteness to a commodity (with “a cash value”)

Lipsitz argues that even as a cultural construction, it has “all-too-real consequences for the distribution of wealth, prestige, and opportunity.” With the economic advantages of whiteness so high, he reasons that public policy and prejudice work hand in hand to

13 David R. Roediger, Working toward Whiteness: How America’s Immigrants Became White; The Strange Journey from Ellis Island to the Suburbs (New York: Basic Books, 2005). 12 protect white privilege.14 Thomas Sugrue’s, Lizabeth Cohen’s, David Katznelson’s, and

David Roediger’s studies of state policies and social constructs convincingly corroborate

Lipsitz’s theory as they unfold how housing covenants and divergent educational and employment opportunities have seamlessly preserved the status of fully entitled citizenship status to middle class males, while blocking others from the same benefits.15

To examine the wide span of state policies and their impact on military personnel,

I center my research on black enlisted Wacs and the policies that shaped their lives and service during World War II. These women’s unique experiences and perspectives provide an alternative access point to uncover the range of personnel circumstances and military policies during the war years. It is a methodology most notably encouraged by

African American women scholars during the 1970s and 1980s in response to the paltry amount of credible scholarship on black women.16 Frustrated with the existing literature’s presumed homogeneity of all black women, they roundly rejected the subsummation of their experiences into those of others, invariably black men or white women. In most

14 George Lipsitz’s, The Possessive Investment in Whiteness: How White People Profit from Identity Politics. Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 2006, vii.

15 Ira Katznelson, When Affirmative Action was White: An Untold History of Racial Inequity in Twentieth Century America (New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 2005); also see Lizabeth Cohen, A Consumers’ Republic: The Politics of Mass Consumption in Postwar America (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2003) and Thomas J. Sugrue. The Origins of the Urban Crisis: Race and Inequality in Postwar Detroit (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2005), Roediger, Working toward Whiteness.

16 The Combahee River Collective was a collaborative initiative of African American women scholars. In 1982, Gloria Hull, Patricia Bell-Scott, and Barbara Smith edited a pivotal volume of essays about African American women for the purpose of laying the groundwork for the new field. This book, All the Women Are White, All the Blacks Are Men, But Some of Us Are Brave crystallizes their rejection of misrepresentations of black women that defined them as “the problem” rather than considered society’s role in marginalizing its populations as the problem.

13 cases, black women did not exist at all in the literature, their historical presence negated, their experiences forgotten. Determined to restore black women to history, these scholars sought methodologies that would enable them to retrieve their subjects’ deeply buried past. Considering history through its most marginalized persons provided a useful framework because it led to the experiences of black women who are often relegated to the periphery of society. It also revealed hidden agendas of patriarchal policies that ensured the perpetuation of black women as an underclass.

Central to an analysis of black Wacs and state policies is the military’s reliance on a classification system. During World War II, this system was based on presumed natural differences (specifically, race and gender) and amplified by the traditional rank hierarchy of the military.17 From the military leadership’s perspective, a person’s race and sex conveniently defined his or her general character and capabilities. As a result, these factors typically took precedence over other considerations – from individual skill mastery to military efficiency – when officials determined assignments, postings, and the overall potential of each recruit. No American service during World War II better represented the military’s stringent categorization of troops than the nation’s largest and most diverse force, the U.S. Army.18

17 So ancient a tradition is the military hierarchy of officers over enlisted men that marking the divide as a social class dichotomy may appear awkward to some readers. As Judith Steihm clarifies, the higher educational requirements of officers suggest an overall relatively higher economic and social status than those of enlisted personnel. Furthermore, the military structure guarantees that officers always outrank enlisted troops regardless of time in service, performance records, or skill sets. Lastly, enlisted service personnel typically remain in only one classification throughout their military careers, while officers assume additional specialties and duties as they advance in rank. Judith Hicks Steihm, It’s Our Military, Too!: Women and the U.S. Military (Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1996), 61-62.

18 Dalfiume, Desegregation of the U.S. Armed Forces, 62. 14 With over twelve million troops, including women for the first time in its history, the U.S. Army of the World War II era represented a veritable “sociological laboratory” of the nation’s diverse population. Contemporary social reformers reveled in the possibilities this laboratory permitted, urging the Army to use this advantage to extend opportunities to African Americans and to female citizens. A phalanx of formidable organizations and individuals converged upon the Army to highlight the patriotism and value of their constituents, including the NAACP, the National Council of Negro

Women, its renowned president Mary McLeod Bethune, the black and liberal presses, liberal congressmen and women, and, not surprisingly, First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt.

These progressive proponents encouraged the Army to take full advantage of its respected role as the premier armed defender of American ideals of equality and justice.

Given the gratitude of the American public, the backing of the Constitution, military enforcement measures, and a disciplined rank structure, the Army could, they argued, override civilian traditions that consistently impeded equal opportunities for all American citizens.

Conservative forces countered that American democracy already ensured equal opportunity for all Americans, though it could not instill the natural abilities and personal drive needed to make the best use of this freedom. The partiality of the Army’s all-white, all-male leadership to the status quo encouraged the military’s concurrence with this stance. Official reports evaluating the service of black troops reinforced it. One of the most prominent of these, the extensive 1922 post-World War I assessment of black combat soldiers, evaluated African American soldiers as unintelligent, lazy, and lacking leadership abilities. Consequently, they constituted a problem for the Army. From the 15 War Department’s perspective, they had given several African American units the opportunity to prove themselves in combat, and they had failed. Interestingly, the report concluded that during national emergencies, the state needed to make use of all available citizens, including the “physical defectives and the women.”19 It would utilize African

American troops if a crisis arose, though, for efficiency reasons, as a segregated force.

The 1922 study would guide much of the War Department’s understanding of African

American troops during its next crisis, World War II.

During the war, the Army adhered to its policies of segmenting unconventional forces, citing reasons of military efficiency and recognition of long-established social customs. Consequently, it segregated black troops from white troops. Similarly, the Army created a separate corps for its new female recruits. These segmentations inevitably identified African Americans and women as peripheral to the main force, thereby hampering their full acceptance as legitimate service personnel and limiting their opportunities to prove their usefulness to the mission at hand.

With the induction of women, the segmentations in the Army mushroomed. The

War Department divided its personnel between officers and enlisted, blacks and non- blacks, and males and females. It then subdivided each of these categories by rank, race, and gender. These segmentations effectively prioritized one side of each divide over the other. For example, commissioned officers officially outranked enlisted personnel; whites unofficially (due to racial equality statements) presided over blacks; and, by

19 Memo, G-3 for Chief of Staff, 28 Nov 1922, AG 322.97 (11-28-22) (1), as sourced in Ulysses Lee, United States Army in World War II, Special Studies: The Employment of Negro Troops (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Government Printing Office, 1966), 32.

16 congressional order, male soldiers constituted the main force and female Wacs the supporting effort. Leadership directives bear out these inter-category inequities: Though whites could command African American units and men could have authority over WAC units, in neither case, could the reverse occur.20

All Army personnel fell under the War Department’s umbrella regulations, yet each category and its subcomponents were also subject to meticulous modifications of these regulations. Accordingly, each side of the divide either bestowed or limited privileges. For instance, racial policies that restricted most African American troops to service support units conversely freed additional white troops for combat, the respected and much coveted role. Similarly, gender policies limited the service of Wacs to the end of the war when the WAC was slated to dissolve. Male soldiers, with the exclusive option to reenlist, made better candidates for prized training programs and job placements.21 The compounded impact of these policies inevitably ushered the vast majority of black Wacs, regardless of aptitude or time in grade, into menial jobs with little chance for advancement.

The Ft. Devens case demonstrates how closely the military’s classification of troops mirrored the civilian social structure that funneled black women into menial work.

American society, by custom and through state policies, restricted most African

20 The Army did not change this stipulation until 1967 when it allowed women in command positions over men. Linda K. Kerber. No Constitutional Right to Be Ladies: Women and Obligations of Citizenship (New York: Hill & Wang, 1998), 264.

21 Men’s orders read the same, “the end of the war plus six months,” yet the limitation was far more real for Wacs whose corps was slated for termination after the war. Men, therefore, would have the option to reenlist whereas women would not. Unknown at the time, the Women’s Armed Services Integration Act of 1948 would provide for the continuation of the WAC after the war.

17 Americans to highly physical labor and most women, whose first priorities were to their families, to temporary employment. Rather than these restrictions simply doubling for black women, they combined to exclude black women from both norms, physical labor for men and temporary work for women. Into the 1940s, the majority continued to work as domestics, laundresses, and sharecroppers with few means to secure the era’s appropriately feminine career as housewives. Subsistence wages forced black women into lifelong employment of long hours away from their families.22

Similarly, the military expected black women in uniform to settle for assignments that were highly physical in nature. This included laundry work, pushing loaded food carts in hospitals, and cleaning heavy pots during KP duty, jobs that white Wacs did not usually do, at least not for extended periods. Seemingly unable to conceive of black women beyond their popular stereotyped role as menial workers, Army officers defaulted to civilian conceptions and assigned two-thirds of black Wacs to orderly duties.23 This mirrored the prewar civilian labor force in which seventy percent of employed black women worked as service workers.24

22 The Army also assumed that families were women’s first priorities and therefore did not enlist women of any race who had children under the age of fourteen. Wacs could obtain early discharges to aid parents far more easily than soldiers. The WAC automatically discharged pregnant Wacs, whether single or married.

23 Janet Sims-Wood’s 'We Served America Too!': Personal Recollections of African Americans in the Women's Army Corps during World War II (UMI Dissertation Services, Ann Arbor, MI. Facsimile edition printed 1995), 8.

24 “Negro Women War Workers,” United States Department of Labor, “Percent of Negro Women among Total Employed Workers in Specified Occupational Groups, April 1940 and April 1944,” 16. 18 By factoring in the Army’s use of black female troops, the incident at Ft. Devens allows for further gendered and racial analysis of the Army’s classification system. Army directives permitted post commanders to requisition troops according to their preferred racial and sex parameters. As a result, white Wacs transferred immediately after the six to eight week basic training program to fulfill urgently-needed personnel shortages while black Wacs remained at Ft. Des Moines for months marching and policing (cleaning) the grounds. In order to move these troops into duty stations, the Army occasionally sent full detachments of black Wacs to select military installations. Not all were welcomed. At Ft.

Devens, Colonel Walter Crandall, commander of the base’s Lovell Hospital, vehemently opposed the posting of black Wacs to his command and did little to hide his disinterest in working with them. At their court-martial, Murphy, Young, Morrison, and Green pinned the reasons for their strike on Crandall’s neglect of their training, assignments, and promotions. A broader examination of the case reveals that the Army’s near negation of black women, from its initial planning and classification policy provisions, ensured similar neglect down the chain of command and across the force.

Asserting their rights and challenging injustice were not unfamiliar obligations for the African American Wacs who served during World War II. Historically, black women have stood at the forefront of American social causes, from consumer boycotts to labor unionizing to civil rights actions.25 Drawing on this legacy, the Wacs at Ft. Devens and

25 The scholarship of black women’s activism includes a number of excellent studies detailing the work their efforts. A few are listed here: Jacqueline Jones, Labor of Love, Labor of Sorrow: Black Women, Work, and the Family from Slavery to the Present (New York: Vintage Books, 1986); Melinda Chateauvert, Marching Together: Women of the Brotherhood of Sleeping Car Porters (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1998); Stephanie Shaw, What a Woman Ought to Be and Do: Black Professional Women Workers during the Jim Crow Era (Chicago: University 19 on other posts, especially those stranded in menial duties, resisted the Army’s neglect of their service and treatment by holding it accountable for the “equal” provisions of its essentially “separate but equal” policies.26 Most black Wacs protested through less indictable acts than the detachment at Ft. Devens, refusing to attend segregated clubs and events or, conversely, appearing in white-only areas to force integration.27 Others shared their discontent with family members (as did Pvt. Warfield), supportive organizations (as did Warfield’s aunt), and occasionally the press.28 In fact every black Wac challenged the inequities and invisibility black women suffered as civilians on the day they enlisted. As a uniformed member of the military, each had defied the domestic and agricultural worker stereotype and compelled the Army to defend, at least officially, her equal status to all other members of the WAC.

The Army as a platform to assert citizen rights first opened to women at the beginning of World War II. In 1941, facing a dangerous deficit of troops as another world

of Chicago Press, 1996); Barbara Ransby, Ella Baker and the Black Freedom Movement: A Radical Democratic Vision (Chapel Hill, North Carolina: University of North Carolina, 2003).

26 The Army did not specifically label its racial policies as “separate but equal.” Nevertheless, it aligned its segregation regulations along the southern model that claimed legitimacy in the Supreme Court’s Plessy v. Ferguson ruling in 1896. During World War II, it issued numerous statements insisting on its commitment to equal treatment of soldiers and Wacs regardless of race.

27 Black Waacs persistence refusal to sit at race-designated tables during basic training led to the integration of the mess hall at Ft. Des Moines, Iowa. Putney, When the Nation Was in Need, 53- 54.

28 Contacting the press could also lead to drastic disciplinary measures. At the beginning of the war, fifteen Navy messmen wrote a letter to The Pittsburgh Courier warning black men not to enlist in the Navy due to its racial discrimination. All were quickly given dishonorable discharges. Doris Kearns Goodwin, No Ordinary Time Franklin and Eleanor Roosevelt; Susan Hartmann, Home Front in World War II (New York, Simon & Schuster, 1994), 162-163, 166.

20 war loomed, the War Department presented a bill to Congress requesting an auxiliary military force of women. Congress responded with rancorous debate over the propriety of women soldiers. Many concurred with the representative who asked, “Who then will do the cooking, the washing, the mending, the humble homey tasks which every woman had devoted herself?”29 Despite the bill’s designation of the corps as a temporary measure to bridge the perilous personnel gap, opposition remained fierce, that is, until the attack on

Pearl Harbor later that year. Congress then conceded, though with the caveat that the new corps could work with the Regular Army, but not be part of it. The following May,

Congress established the Women’s Army Auxiliary Corps (WAAC).

Congress’s emphasis on women’s peripheral military status immediately complicated the WAAC’s mission. Most problematically, the corps featured specially tailored ranks and rules for its female members that led to untenable confusion over women’s position in the military. Within a year, Congress replaced the WAAC with the

WAC so that by July 1943, the new corps’ policies and benefits more closely aligned with those of the Regular Army. Women with dependent children under fourteen were still ineligible for enlistment, and those who joined remained restricted to jobs classified as feminine. Nevertheless, the WAC had official military standing alongside, if not within, the Regular Army that its predecessor had not.

By the end of 1942, all military services – the Navy, Marines, and Coast Guard – could boast of a women’s corps, though the Army was the first, and for a time the only

29 Treadwell, Women’s Army Corps, 25.

21 one to admit African American women into its ranks.30 This notable distinction belies the interest of the Army and WAC leadership in this category of troops. Whereas the War

Department had vigorously negotiated with Congress to induct white women and with civil rights leaders to gain their support for recruiting African American men, it abruptly announced – without discussion – that it would also enlist black women. The announcement suddenly terminated the percolating debate over incorporating black women into the WAC. The War Department’s decision delighted African Americans, yet sidestepping pertinent discussions over black women’s enlistment and treatment would not bode well for African American Wacs.

The persistent demands of civil rights leaders for racial integration suggest a possible reason for the War Department’s sudden inclusion of black women in the corps.

Negotiations with civil rights leaders over black men’s conditions had already forced military officials into unsettling compromises. For instance, though the Army would retain segregation, it agreed to a proportional ten percent representation of African

Americans in the Army based on the national population. Additionally, Congress had only reluctantly established the right of women to serve. Apparently unwilling to invite a confrontation over the combined issues of race and gender, the Army simply accepted black women in the WAC with an absence of fanfare.31

30 The Navy established the WAVES on 30 July 1942. It did not admit black women until the end of 1944 and then less than a hundred though these women served in integrated units. The Marine’s SPARS also accepted white women in 1942 but refused to enlist black women until after the war. Morris J. MacGregor, Jr. Integration of the Armed Forces, 1940-1965 (Washington D.C.: Center of Military History, 1981), 86-88.

31 The issue of accepting black women in the corps was frequently discussed in Congress. At least one senator and two congressmen proposed a non-discriminatory clause in the WAAC bill. The 22 Adding black women to the Army’s highly segmented forces would prove to be far less simple than expected as their entry automatically activated further subdivisions of troops. Black Wacs could not work or train with other Wacs or African Americans.

Further exacerbating the problem was the fact that the Army made few preparations for this new contingent outside of segregating them from white servicewomen. WAC officers had no choice but to accept black Wacs as part of their force, though their management of these troops, who they felt deterred white enlistments, might best be described as damage control. Throughout the war, the WAC expressly forbade nearly all publicity of black

Wacs and, despite its flailing struggle to attract another sixty thousand women, resisted a sustained program to enlist black women. WAC officials primarily dealt with this contingent when managing backlogs of black recruits at its training center, complaints about and by black Wacs, and disciplinary issues. The 1922 War Department’s assessment of black soldiers referred to them as problems; in the 1940s, WAC officials expressed a similar disregard for its black women.

The black women who forged onward and enlisted in the WAC became part of a proud tradition of African American military service, its roots extending as far back as the colonial period. It was also a tradition entrenched in racial discrimination. For four hundred years, the service of black soldiers rarely diverged from the pattern set in the earliest days of colonial militias: calls to serve only after insufficient numbers of white men were available, conscription when battlefield fatalities reduced the number of white

War Department insisted that there was no need as it would accept them under the same stipulations as white Wacs and black soldiers.

23 volunteers, assignment mainly to labor battalions rather than combat units, and restriction primarily to the lower enlisted ranks. Once Americans created a standing Army, another pattern emerged: immediate discharges after hostilities subsided and military service reverted to a steady job with regular pay. Throughout the centuries, black soldiers typically responded by enthusiastically volunteering for military service despite these inequities. Through unstinting shows of patriotism, they hoped to demonstrate their overwhelming support of the nation’s war efforts and value to the military.

Civil rights leaders were well aware that times of war were prime occasions to further their agendas given the Army’s genuine need to attract black troops and avoid large scale domestic conflict. During World War I, for example, they successfully negotiated the opening of an officer training program for black men.32 Segregation remained firmly intact, however, as did rampant discrimination. More black recruits might be led by black officers, but they were still relegated to labor battalions and were the first discharged after the war. Twenty years later, as German and Japanese military aggression threatened to draw the United States into another global conflict, just 1.15 percent of the Army consisted of black soldiers, including a mere five officers.33 African

Americans had little recourse to assert their rights during peacetime.

32 Admitting the dubious nature of the compromise, the NAACP’s Board Chairman, Joel Spingarn, explained that segregated officer training was the lesser of two evils since the South wanted neither integration nor black officers. Dalfiume, Desegregation of the U.S. Armed Forces, 8.

33 The Navy consisted of nearly the same proportion of black personnel. The Marines did not have any black men on its rolls since it did not enlist African Americans until World War II. MacGregor, Integration of the Armed Forces.

24 Despite the Army’s greater inclusion of African Americans in its forces and enlistment of women for the first time during World War II, prominent civil rights activists and women leaders were well aware of the secondary status of nonwhites and women in uniform. Nevertheless, they strongly encouraged these citizens to enlist.34

After all, the military paid troops according to their rank rather than their race and sex, provided travel opportunities, and opened the possibility of advanced training. These were rare advantages for economically, politically, and socially marginalized American.

Moreover, the Army offered the prized benefit of confirmed citizenship status – or so it was hoped.

Americans traditionally regarded the uniform as a sign of an individual’s patriotic commitment to protect the nation, its people, and its principles. Those who wore it, especially during wars, typically garnered high regard for their service.35 In a society marked by constructed differences, however, tensions commonly erupted over awarding such honored status to those who did not meet the standard racial and gender profile of a soldier. Collectively, over a million women and minorities accepted the risk and donned

34 Among the nation’s most prominent advocates for race and gender rights were Mary McLeod Bethune and Eleanor Roosevelt. Margaret Chung, an influential San Francisco physician and Chinese American “mother” to military personnel, helped established the WAVES. (For a biography of “Mom Chung,” see Judy Tzu-Chun Wu’s Doctor Mom Chung of the Fair-Haired Bastards: The Life of a Wartime Celebrity (Cambridge: University of California Press, 2005).Within Congress, Representatives Edith Nourse Rogers, Margaret Chase Smith, Emanuel Celler, Vito Marcantonio, and Adam Clayton Powell vigorously promoted military service as a route to full citizenship. (Most of these notable activists of the 1940s spoke on behalf of the Ft. Devens WAC defendants.)

35 In his book on the integration of the military, Dalfiume notes, “Throughout American history the black American viewed his military service in the nation’s conflicts as proof of his loyalty and as a brief for this claim to full citizenship.” Dalfiume, Desegregation of the U.S. Armed Forces, 1.

25 the uniform anyway, eager to claim their expected entitlements to full citizenship. The expansion of citizen rights was hardly the Army’s intention when it agreed to diversify its force, yet, as the Ft. Devens incident illustrates, inclusion into the military bred such expectations. Military service was that rare venue that offered otherwise marginalized citizens a route to claim full rights and respect.

The structure of this dissertation follows a chronological framework. I begin by previewing the circumstances that led to the Ft. Devens incident including the background history of enlisted black soldiers, women’s efforts to serve before the establishment of official women’s corps, the fractious 1941-42 congressional battles over a women’s corps, and finally the Army’s adamant stance regarding its sudden diversification when it claimed that it was “not a sociological laboratory.” Introducing the four main characters in Chapter Two, I discuss the reasons Ft. Devens Wacs and other

American women enlisted in the 1940s, their experiences in basic training, and the impact of WAC policies on their, and on white Wacs’, training and employment. Chapter

Three describes the difficulties of placing black Wacs into Army positions after basic training. Chapter Four considers the civil rights movement – from local initiatives to a national network of civil rights organizations, the black press, and notable activists – that nurtured an environment for activism. Chapters Five, Six, and Seven detail the strike, the subsequent court-martial and verdict, and the civilian reaction to a case involving black women in the military. Chapter Eight looks at comparable courts-martial of other black

Wacs and soldiers during World War II. The contextualization of the Ft. Devens trial reveals the prevailing standards of military discipline for black troops and the unusual circumstances female defendants presented military courts. Chapter Nine returns to the 26 Ft. Devens case as the Army, black Wacs, and other military personnel sought to extricate themselves from the incident. I conclude by revisiting the premise of the U.S.

Army as a sociological laboratory and discussing the broader implications of the case.

During March and April of 1945, the Ft. Devens strike and subsequent court- martial transcended racial lines to become one of the most provocative news stories of the war. Shortly after the case was brought to a close, President Franklin D. Roosevelt’s death shook the nation and decisive victories overseas marked the last months of the war.

News of the incident nearly vanished from the public domain. Many of the exploits of other military personnel that dominated the era’s media during the war did not, and today they provide the basis of the nation’s memory of the war. This memory has rarely included accounts of the black women who also served. Consequently, in the past eighty years, the contributions of black servicewomen – indeed, the mere existence of them – has been largely forgotten outside of anecdotal references by scholars who kept their story alive and a handful of newspaper reports and autobiographies.36 Buried under the formidable efforts of white and black soldiers and the pioneering spirit of white Wacs are equally compelling stories of the black Wacs. These accounts lend important insight and complexity to current understandings of World War II’s military personnel and policies.

The Ft. Devens strike and the women who sparked it, deserve to have their story told in full.

36 Two of several important biographies in this regard are Charity Adams Earley, One Woman's Army: A Black Officer Remembers the WAC (College Station, Texas, A&M University Press, 1989) and Katie McCabe and Dovey Johnson Roundtree, Justice Older than the Law: the Life of Dovey Johnson Roundtree (Jackson: University Press of Mississippi, 2009). A source of collective personal memories is Janet Sims-Wood’s 'We Served America Too!” 27 Chapter 1. The Army Diversifies

“The Army is not a Sociological Laboratory.”37

Facing the prospect of a second world war in the late 1930s, American military leaders assessed the preparedness of their services and found them woefully understaffed.

Furthermore, they realized that the tremendous personnel needs of the expected conflict would require more personnel than available among the nation’s pool of white men, their primary source for recruits. As the nation’s largest service, the Army boldly took the lead by aggressively recruiting from broad segments of society. Its need for more troops paved the way for African American men to enlist in larger numbers than at any time since the

Civil War and, for the first time in the Army’s history, for women to serve in an official military capacity.38 In another unprecedented move, the War Department agreed to enlist black women along with white recruits in its newly established Women’s Auxiliary Army

37 Colonel Eugene R. Householder, Adjutant General’s Department, to Black Press Editors, prepared speech delivered at Editors Conference, December 8, 1941, Ulysses Lee, United States Army in World War II, Special Studies: Employment of Negro Troops (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Government Printing Office, 1966), 142.

38 The Army Nurse Corps (ANC) represents a notable exception. Congress authorized the corps in 1901 in order to bring the nurses the Army typically hired into its military command structure. The Army enlisted the women, but did not consider them full members to be accorded equal pay, standard ranks, or more than minimal veteran benefits. The specialized nurse corps provided the blueprint for the Woman’s Army Auxiliary Corps (WAAC). Ironically, the ANC did not gain equal status and rank until 1944. Mattie E. Treadwell, United States Army in World War II, Special Studies, The Women’s Army Corps. (Washington, D.C.: Department of the Army, 1954), 5-6.

28 Corps (WAAC).39 By the war’s end, the Army looked far different than it had just five years earlier when it had been an entirely all-male and virtually all-white force.40 In 1945, nine percent of its service personnel were black soldiers and two percent were Wacs.41 Of this latter category, four percent were African American women.42

During World War II, service members from all segments of society shared a palpable zeal to defeat fascism and make the world safe for democracy. Beyond this noble purpose, however, the expectations of Army officers and their female and minority troops greatly differed. The military hierarchy, for instance, had enlisted minority and female soldiers for the sole practical reason of supplementing its forces, not to expand citizen rights that would alter the status quo. Their non-conventional troops, on the other hand, desired to contribute to the war effort on a par with white men, learn new skills,

39 Established in May 1942, the Women’s Army Auxiliary Corps (WAAC) existed for one year. In July 1943, the Women’s Army Corps (WAC) replaced it. To avoid confusion in the narration of events, I generally refer to the corps, whether the auxiliary corps or the later women’s corps, as the WAC. When essential to the context, however, as in this reference, I observe the WAAC/Waac denotation.

40 The Army preferred to employ women to fulfill particular functions such as typists and clerks. Kirsten Elizabeth Gardner, “The Women’s Army Corps, 1942-1946: Establishment, Recruitment, and Experience,” (M.A. thesis, A.B. Georgetown University, 1993), 18.

41 Throughout this study, I refer to men in the Regular Army as “soldiers” and women in the WAC as “Wacs” in order to readily distinguish between these two categories. Certainly, Congress and the War Department recognized two separate categories when it established a separate women’s corps. My distinction, therefore, acknowledges the Army’s view of Wacs as assistants to soldiers rather than full-fledged soldiers. Nevertheless, it should be noted that WAC recruiting literature, the media, and the women themselves regularly labeled Wacs as “soldiers.” I do not dispute this label, but rather, for this project, maintain a separation for clarity of the narrative.

42 Over a million black soldiers and 150,000 Wacs, including 6,400 black Wacs served in the Army during World War II. Treadwell, History of the WAC, 766; Martha S. Putney, When the Nation Was In Need: Blacks in the Women’s Army Corp during World War II (Metuchen, New Jersey: The Scarecrow Press, 1992), 41; Susan Hartmann, The Home Front and Beyond: American Women in the 1940s (New York: Twayne, 1982), 31-32.

29 expand their opportunities, and gain status as fully entitled citizens. Consequently, women and minorities in uniform expected the Army to treat them with the respect traditionally accorded to service members. Many felt satisfied that the Army had met this challenge, yet many more rankled under its underutilization of their skills, disparagement of their abilities, and often outright discrimination due to their race and gender. While these troops pushed for further acceptance in the military, many of their officers, genuinely baffled over the clamoring for social change during a time of war, geared the military’s policies to maintain existing racial and gender hierarchies.

To underscore its interest in retaining the status quo, the War Department reasserted its customary segregation policy for African Americans and, in conjunction with Congress, created a separate corps for its new female recruits. The resulting segmentations ensured differential treatment based on each troop’s race and sex. For

African American servicewomen, who occupied the lower rungs of society’s racial and gender hierarchies, these multiple segmentations were unusually isolating. They could also prove galvanizing, however, as the strike at Ft. Devens demonstrates. Since the causes of this March 1945 action are steeped in the long record of African American soldiers and in the first years of the women’s corps, it is to those histories that we now turn.

The military service of African American men vies in length of time with that of white American men, yet it is complicated by its intermittency. From the colonial era to the Korean War, white authorities restricted black men’s admission into the military, relaxing prohibitions only when they lacked sufficient numbers of white male volunteers

30 to fill the ranks.43 At the root of this exploitive pattern lay the notion that military service, due to the mortal risks it entailed, carried a badge of honored citizenship. For black men with a history of bondage and subjugation, military service thus carried great significance. Indeed, for slaves it could lead to emancipation. For most black soldiers, military service provided respectable employment when few other avenues existed and a chance to prove an otherwise much maligned manhood. It also inferred earned citizenship status for the men and, by extension, their race. These goals prompted individuals and the black community alike to pursue the right of African American men to serve in the armed forces.

White authorities, who well understood this relationship between military service and citizenship rights, strictly controlled minority access to the ranks. During the colonial period, communities passed laws denying black men entry into militias, relenting only when absolutely necessary to their survival.44 George Washington continued this colonial tradition during the Revolutionary War when he ordered state militias to refuse “any stroller, Negro, or vagabond” as recruits. Despite the warning, critical manpower shortages eventually compelled the revolutionary forces to enlist black men.45 During the

43 Integration began at the beginning of the Korean War and was completed in its last year.

44 Northern colonists often relaxed the prohibition when their survival was at stake. Though less common in the southern colonies, South Carolina occasionally armed slaves during its eighteenth-century wars against Native Americans and the Spanish, Jack D. Foner, Blacks and the Military in American History: A New Perspective (New York: Praeger Publishers, 1974), 4.

45 Some states during the Revolutionary War recruited slaves, though Maryland was the only southern state to do so. Slaves fought in Massachusetts’ militia until 1775 when the Massachusetts Committee of Safety, under pressure from slave owners, forbade their further enlistment due to its reported inconsistency “with the principles that are to be supported, and reflect dishonor on this colony.” Typically, slaves already in the military could remain. Rhode Island was among the colonies that paid masters for their slaves, though only after the British 31 Civil War, the Union only accepted large numbers of black men three years into the start of hostilities as white recruits failed to volunteer and respond to conscription notices.46

During the Indian Wars, the Army relied on black soldiers for the dangerous and desolate duty on the western frontier.47 At the start of World War I, the Army enlisted just 4,000 black men and rejected many more in order to accommodate the 650,000 white men who initially volunteered. When white male interest waned, the Army reversed its position and drafted black men in proportionally higher numbers than it did whites. By the war’s conclusion, black soldiers, just nine percent of the draft registry, comprised thirteen percent of all conscripts.48

The War Department faced less united opposition over its discriminatory recruiting and racial policies during World War I than it might have had civil rights leader W.E.B. DuBois not urged African Americans to “close ranks” with the

occupied two-thirds of its land. On several occasions, similar proposals arose in South Carolina, only to be defeated each time. Instead South Carolina offered a slave to each white enlistee as an incentive to enlist. An estimated 5,000 black men served in the American forces during the Revolutionary War. Many more fought for the British who were promising freedom for their service. Foner, Blacks and the Military in American History, 6-15.

46 The Union Army had initially rejected enlisting black soldiers to avoid alienating the populations of northern border states. After the Emancipation Proclamation Act on January 1, 1863, it took on the vestige of a liberating force. Thereafter, black leaders encouraged enlistments into the newly opened, and shorthanded militias. By 1965, over 186,000 black men had served in the Union Army. As ten percent of the Union’s forces during the final years of the war, black soldiers provided needed forces for its ultimate victory. Due to the Union’s reckless employment of these men, however, they suffered a 35 percent higher proportional fatality rate than their white male counterparts. Foner, Blacks and the Military in American History, 34-36; 45-48.

47 Ironically, military service pitted black soldiers against Native Americans to open the latter’s lands for the state’s white government, settlers, and business interests. Elizabeth D. Leonard. Men of Color to Arms!: Black Soldiers, Indian Wars, and the Quest for Equality (New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 2010).

48 Foner, Blacks and the Military in American History, 111.

32 government during the crisis. DuBois banked on the notion that putting aside grievances while the nation fought for democracy abroad would prove African American patriotism and their entitlement to equal citizenship. Other civil rights leaders roundly criticized this strategy in favor of more proactive measures – as would DuBois by the end of the war.

The nation’s scandalous Jim Crow treatment of its African American servicemen soured him and others on the notion that most Americans would willingly accord blacks their rights.49

The Army justified its treatment of black troops by claiming that these men lacked the proper skills, courage, and temperament for duties other than hard physical labor. In fact, officers were leery of training and arming black men for combat roles these men desired and instead assigned the majority of its black soldiers to engineer and service corps. The Houston Riot seemed to validate white concerns. In 1917, black soldiers stationed in Texas broke into the post armory and turned their haul of weapons on local civilians. Twenty-one men died that night. Of these fatalities, almost all were white.50

Summing up the general view of the officer corps, the Assistant Inspector General

49 Controversy surrounded DuBois’ editorial then and in more recent times. In 1992, historian Mark Ellis proposed that DuBois adopted a stance of accommodation in his “Closed Ranks” article because he was seeking a commission in the Army. Whatever his reasons, DuBois faced immediate chastisement from other editors, journalists, and leading activists. “’Closing Ranks’ and ‘Seeking honors’: W.E.B. Du Bois in World War I,” Journal of American History 79, no. 1 (June 1992): 96-124.Education Research Complete, EBSCO, (accessed March 12, 2013). Also see Charles A. Simmons, The African American Press: A History of the News Coverage During National Crises, with Special Reference to Four Black Newspapers, 1827-1965, (Jefferson, North Carolina: McFarland & Company, Inc., 1933), 39; and Bernard C. Nalty, Strength for the Fight: A History of Black Americans in the Military (New York: The Free Press, 1986), 114.

50 The subsequent court-martial led to convictions and executions by hanging of nineteen black soldiers. Bernard C. Nalty and Morris J. MacGregor, Blacks in the Military: Essential Documents (Wilmington, DE: Scholarly Resources, Inc., 1982), 103-105.

33 investigating the incident concluded that “the tendency of the Negro soldier, with fire arms in his possession, unless he is properly handled by officers who know the race is to become arrogant, overbearing, abusive and a menace to the community in which he happens to be stationed.”51 Shortly after the riot, Army investigators concluded that provocations of white locals had sparked the riot. The finding had little impact on the

War Department’s preferences to hand black soldiers shovels rather than arm them with rifles.

Even the Army’s highest ranking black officer at the time, Lt. Colonel Charles

Young, was not immune to discrimination. Wars hasten promotions, and with twenty- eight years in service by 1917, Young was more than due his full-bird colonel insignia.

This, however, would put him on track for promotion to general, thereby becoming the nation’s first African American to hold this rank. Instead, his superiors suddenly announced his retirement on medical grounds. Young sped on horseback from Ohio to

Washington, D.C. to prove his fitness, but since the problem was not his health, but his race, he never did receive his star.52 Regardless of rank, military policies encouraged the

51 Assistant Inspector General Col. G.C. Gross in a letter to the Commanding General of the Southern Department, Brig General James Parker, Nalty, Essential Documents, 71; In 1940, the Adjutant General’s Office would similarly argue for the limited use or blacks in the military: “There are now in service 80,000 Negroes, many of whom cannot be profitable employed in the service excepting as labor troops. This is due to the low average mentality.” Ulysses Lee, Employment of Negro Troops (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Government Printing Office, 1966), 147.

52 World War I would have likely have led to Young’s commission as the first African American general. Instead, a southern lieutenant expressed his repugnance of a black man giving orders to white men. At first the Army ignored the junior officer, yet as opposition to Young’s promotion spread, it took preventative action. Due to African Americans’ vigorously condemnation of Young’s treatment, the Army recalled him back to service at the end of World War I. Sent to Africa, Young fell sick and died in 1922. Foner, Blacks and the Military in American History, 113; Nalty, Strength for the Fight, 110.

34 denigration of black soldiers’ initiative, intelligence, and courage. Placement in menial labor assignments made it nearly impossible for these men to prove otherwise.

World War I’s post-war assessments of black soldiers reveal the extent of the officer corps’ blatant racism. “As fighting troops,” asserted a 92nd Field Division

Commander in France, “the negro must be rated second class material, this due primarily to his inferior intelligence and lack of mental and moral qualities.”53 Black officers came in for particular ridicule as inept leaders.54 The War Department accepted these evaluations at face-value. They did not interview black soldiers, investigate the inequitable conditions they faced, or consider favorable feedback regarding their performance. The French, in particular, praised the African American men who fought with them, awarding one regiment the Croix de Guerre for courage and heroism.55

Regardless, the U.S. Army’s final report on the World War I mobilization of black troops in Europe, referred to as the 1922 plan, concluded that natural inadequacies necessarily limited the value of black troops to the Army. Nevertheless, it asserted that, in a crisis,

African American men should be called upon to serve.56 Less than twenty years later, the

53 Cmdr of the 367th Infantry, 92nd Division as quoted in Lee, Employment of Negro Troops, 17; also see Russell Buchanan, Black Americans in World War II (Santa Barbara, CA: Clio Books, 1977), 60-61.

54 The castigation of black officers particularly galled Africans Americans. When the first Officer Candidate School opened in 1917, it included their most promising young men. Among them were two future Howard University professors, Rayford Logan, also a member of President Franklin Roosevelt’s Black Cabinet, and Charles Hamilton Houston, leading attorney for the NAACP and mentor of Thurgood Marshall.

55 The French awarded the Croix de Guerre to the 369th Regiment and Distinguished Service Crosses to many individual soldiers.

56 As summarized by the bulk of the testimony upon which the War Department Army War College based their judgments came from the 92nd and 93rd Divisions, both stationed in France. 35 War Department faced that crisis. As it prepared to expand its forces, it would refer to the

1922 plan to guide its racial policy.

Contemporary racial prejudices aside, white soldiers had little incentive to refute the negative views of black soldiers because segregation policies gave them a decided advantage over them. For instance, the induction of black men created additional leadership positions for white officers and noncommissioned officers (NCOs) to gain command experience and promotions. Conversely, segregation policies blocked black officers from commanding whites, and therefore from leadership opportunities so crucial to advancing in the ranks. Beyond command experience or personal qualifications, competition for promotions and desired assignments favored white soldiers over black.

As illustrated by the 1917 Houston Riot and the career of Lt. Colonel Charles Young

(who the Army shifted between black units and black schools with military programs), black soldiers were not necessarily placed where needed, but where local conditions permitted. Segregation also led to the disproportional dismissals of black troops immediately after a given conflict. In the aftermath of World War I, the War

Department’s across-the-board troop reductions successfully mustered out nearly all of its black troops. By 1937, only 6,500 of the Army’s 360,000 soldiers were black.57 Marked as temporary troops, black soldiers consistently occupied the lowest enlisted ranks where they were subject to the Army’s least desired assignments and excluded from training

These were the only two black divisions in the National Army serving in France during World War I. Lee, Employment of Negro Troops, 18-19/32-35.

57 African Americans were ten percent of the population in 1937, yet just 1.8 percent of Regular Army and National Guard together. Lee, Employment of Negro Troops, 38.

36 programs. The poor morale of black troops who resented segregation only further justified the view that white troops were more reliable. Finally, African American civilian men were essentially an unpaid reserve force to serve whenever sufficient numbers of white men were unavailable or willing to enlist. As the architects of the 1922 plan indicated, they could count on them to join at a moment’s notice. During wars, therefore, segregation policies helped Army officials filled their personnel gaps while lessening the numbers of potential white conscripts.

The racial discrimination African Americans suffered in the military caused great hardship, yet no more so than what they suffered as civilians for far less pay. Despite the poor treatment, therefore, black men eagerly sought military service. It was a job, after all, and one that paid the same salary as whites of the same rank, outfitted them in the respectful uniform of a soldier, and granted them an official, if not always an accepted, claim to full citizenship. Bleak civilian employment prospects gave most black men few alternatives, a point the Army seemed to recognize. When another war seemed imminent, the War Department dusted off its 1922 plan. Despite segregation, they knew black men would enlist.

Civil rights leaders clearly understood the War Department’s renewed interest in calling upon black men for military duty, and in the1940s were determined to avoid subjecting their young men to the humiliating policies of segregation. They spoke for the

African Americans around the country who, unlike during World War I, were increasingly rejecting the notion that by fighting for democracy abroad, they would gain democracy at home. During the war, Swedish psychologist Gunner Myrdal identified and explained African Americans’ emerging strategy to exploit the state’s need for their labor 37 and their support to gain greater rights. Investigating their economic, social, and political conditions, Myrdal concluded that “He [the black man] cannot allow his grievances to be postponed until after the War, for he knows that the War is his chance.”58 As a foreigner new to American racial relations, Myrdal expected that wars fought under the banner of democracy would increase a nation’s sensitivity to human rights at home and inspire racial reform. It was a reasonable assumption, and one that the life-long American citizen

DuBois had expressed during World War I. By World War II, however, African

Americans were no longer willing to chance the generosity of white Americans’ democratic spirit. As military historian Bernard Nalty explains, “Instead of assuming goodwill on the part of white authority, they [African Americans] sought to trade military service for measurable progress toward full citizenship … continuing to press for civil rights, economic opportunity, and a useful role within the military.”59 The fiery activist

A. Philip Randolph translated this strategy to a pithy, “Pressure, more pressure, and still more pressure.”60

Armed with wartime bargaining powers, civil rights leaders soon gained several important concessions from the top levels of the government. In consultation with the

War Department, President Franklin D. Roosevelt agreed to the proportional

58 As quoted in Daniel Kryder, Divided Arsenal: Race and the American State during World War II (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), 7.

59 Nalty, Strength for the Fight, 142; also partially quoted in Leisa Meyer, Creating GI Jane: Sexuality and Power in the Women's Army Corps during World War II (New York: Columbia University Press, 1993), 192.

60 Philip A. Klinker with Rogers M. Smith, The Unsteady March: The Rise and Decline of Racial Equality in America (Chicago, University of Chicago Press), 160.

38 representation of black men in the Army. Under this quota system, the Army guaranteed that it would allow up to ten percent of its forces to consist of African Americans.61

Additionally, the War Department announced that though it was retaining segregation,

“Negroes will be utilized on a fair and equitable basis.”62 Moreover, in 1940, Roosevelt appointed the nation’s first Civilian Aide of Negro Affairs, Judge William Hastie, to advise the Secretary of War on racial matters. Furthermore, twenty five years after the

Army’s inflammatory blocking of Lt. Colonel Young from his promotion, the Army commissioned its first black general.”63 The next year, Roosevelt signed Executive Order

8802, the Fair Employment Practice in Defense Industries (FEPC).64 As Myrdal suggested and the government demonstrated, the state’s need to ensure a reliable work force and avoid domestic turmoil at home gave impetus to these seemingly extraordinary state concessions.

Though achieving noteworthy victories, black leaders were unable to convince the president or military leadership to reconsider the segregation policy. Ironically, the same

61 Memorandum, Assistant Secretary of War Robert P. Patterson to President Franklin D. Roosevelt, October 8, 1940, as quoted in Lee, Employment of Negro Troops, 75-76.

62 Ibid., 75

63 Secretary of War Henry L. Stimson appointed William O. Hastie, the Dean of Howard University’s Law School, as his civilian advisor. Roosevelt commissioned retired Colonel Benjamin O. Davis Sr. as a Brigadier General when he returned to service. He would again retire in 1948. Bernard Nalty, Strength for the Fight, 139-140.

64 A. Philip Randolph, President of the Brotherhood of Sleeping Car Porters, announced a “March on Washington” in July 1941 to protest war industries’ racially-biased hiring practices. Roosevelt conceded over concerns of a hundred thousand black protesters appearing on his lawn. Executive Order 8802 did not end racial discrimination in the factories though it did provide a model for future action against employment discrimination.

39 War Department memorandum that agreed to treat all races equitably also defended racial segregation as the only reasonable way to avoid racial problems. It read, “the policy of the War Department is not to intermingle colored and white enlisted personnel in the same regimental organization. This policy has been proven satisfactory over a long period of years.”65 African Americans contested the “satisfactory” aspect of the policy, yet senior military officials countered that with a war on their hands, their priorities would not, and could not, include race relations. “The immediate task of the Army,” they insisted, “is the efficient completion of our Defense Program. Nothing should be permitted to divert us from this task.”66 One high-ranking officer summarized the War

Department’s attitude with an unequivocal declaration that “the Army is not a sociological laboratory.”67 It had not created the problem, could not change it, and had no intention of involving itself in the highly volatile and complicated business of race.

The persistent critiques that civil rights leaders hurled against the practice of segregation as well as the continuous stream of racial incidents involving military personnel prompted occasional Army directives reminding officers to treat troops

65 Roosevelt signed the memo for distribution to the Army. Memorandum, Assistant Secretary of War Robert P. Patterson to President Franklin D. Roosevelt, October 8, 1940 as quoted in Lee, Employment of Negro Troops, 75-76.

66 Memorandum, G-1 for Chief of Staff in response to a recommendation from William A. Hastie to institute desegregation in the Army, 6 November 1941. Lee, Employment of Negro Troops, 140.

67 Colonel Eugene R. Householder of the Adjutant General’s Department to black editors at the Editor’s Conference, 8 December 1941. Householder further exhorted that “Experiments to meet the wishes and demands of the champions of every race and creed for the solution of their problems are a danger to efficiency, discipline and morale and would result in ultimate defeat,” as quoted in Lee, Employment of Negro Troops, 142.

40 equally. With no consequences for discriminatory behavior or training in race relations, however, white officers had little incentive to put them into effect or guidance to ensure the well-being of their nonwhite troops. When black soldiers stationed in Texas reported that white soldiers followed them with calls of “Niggers, Snow Ball, and their Black

African Army,” their white officer advised them to “walk a little faster.”68 Obviously, the inherently contradictory nature of segregation and equitable treatment enabled white officers to treat regulations regarding race as suggestions rather than orders. Acting upon the 1943 directive that prohibited racial segregation of military recreational facilities, for example, base commanders quickly latched onto a loophole that permitted them to allocate facilities to “serve certain areas or units.”69 Since all units were already segregated, they merely needed to rename units leaving out race demarcations and replace “Colored” signs with “No. 2” signs to comply with the standard, if not the spirit, of the policy.70 Two years after the facilities regulation went into effect, Pvt. Elsie L.

Williams, a black Wac stationed at Ft. Devens, matter-of-factly remarked, “Club No. 1 belongs to the Whites.”71

68 Letter from Co. E, 25th Inf, 2nd Battalion, Camp Bowie, TX to The Pittsburgh Courier, 13 April 1941, McGuire, Taps for a Jim Crow Army (Santa Barbara, CA: ABC-Clio, 1983), 104.

69 Memorandum, Major General J.A. Ulio, Adjutant General, for the Commanding Generals, Army Air Forces, All Service Commands, Military district of Washington, September 1, 1944 (Memorandum refers to original March 1943 directive.); also see Kryder, Divided Arsenal, 153- 154.

70 Lee, Employment of Negro Troops, 308-309. Also see Chapter 8 of this book: “Mutinous Behavior” on the Tuskegee airmen’s challenge to segregated club facilities.

71 Pvt. Elsie L. Williams, interview, 9 April 1945, “Investigation of WAC Detachment, Lovell General Hospital,” 4 May 1945 (hereafter “War Department Investigation”), Records of the Adjutant General’s Office, File: General Correspondence, Records Group 159, Entry 26E Box 914, Section 21, National Archives (Hereafter NA); black Wac Clementine McConico Skinner 41 The two men with the ultimate authority to order airtight regulations and compliance on all military matters, including race, were Secretary of War Henry L.

Stimson and Army Chief of Staff General George C. Marshall. They were, however, wholly unprepared to deal with racial discrimination. Both were highly skeptical of social reforms which Marshall described as “fraught with danger to efficiency, discipline, and morale.”72 Beneficiaries of the nation’s status quo, these senior officials had diligently strived for their positions and were eminently qualified for the extraordinary difficulties of their mission. (In four years, they would propel the nation to victory.) Considering their personal experiences, they had reason to assume that the current system worked.

Nevertheless, the frequency of racial conflicts among service personnel and the attention they consistently demanded meant that neither Stimson nor Marshall could ignore these matters completely. Hoping to preempt further incidents, Marshall in particular attempted to get at the root of the problem by ordering several investigations into black discontent.

Gradually, his staff, including civilian aid of Negro Affairs Truman K. Gibson (who had in 1943 replaced Hastie), convinced Marshall how ingrained racism was in the Army.

According to military historians Bernard Nalty and Morris MacGregor, Marshall had by mid-war “admitted that much of the racial unrest in the army had been caused by discrimination, itself the result of the failure of commanders to live up to their

recalled that at Ft. Des Moines, “All over the place they had Service Clubs #1 and #2. One was for whites and one was for blacks. We were always #2,” Janet Sims-Wood, We Served America, Too!: Personal Recollections of African Americans in the Women’s Army Corps during World War II, Dissertation (Ph.D. diss, The Union Institute, 1994), 207.

72 Memorandum to Secretary of War, 1 December 1941. Lee, Employment of Negro Troops, 140- 141.

42 responsibilities.”73 Despite the revelation, segregation remained Marshall’s only conceivable template to deal with the issue.

Since neither Marshall nor Stimson had experienced the personal indignities and professional limitations of racial prejudice, both remained unaware of the extent to which segregation impaired black morale and the Army’s mission.74 Marshall ordered both officers and black troops, who he believed shared responsibility for disturbances, to comply with Army directives intended to ensure order in ranks. Stimson, on the other hand, held that civil rights leaders were the main problem, confiding to a friend that, “We would be having a much easier time if it were not for a comparative small group of Negro radical leaders who are agitating for complete social equality.”75 It was a common refrain among top War Department officials. Unencumbered by official sanctions, these sentiments filtered down to the officers on the ground, the persons most directly responsible for ensuring the equitable treatment and morale of Army personnel. At Ft.

Devens and elsewhere, theses officers’ management of race issues echoed Marshall’s and

Stimson’s views.

Given the long history of racism in the military and the continued intransigency of the leadership to meaningfully address the issue, black soldiers recognized the dual nature of their fight for democracy, the one abroad against fascists and the one at home

73 Nalty, Essential Documents, 123.

74 Ibid., 140. In 1941, Marshall shared his views, much to the disappointment of African Americans, that the “settlement of vexing racial problems cannot be permitted to complicate the tremendous tasks of the War Department.

75 Moye, Freedom Flyers, 74.

43 against racism. In comparison to previous wars, they were better equipped for the latter battle. This was due in large part to the Army’s endorsement, if not enforcement, of equal treatment regardless of race. It was a guarantee, in writing, that black personnel expected the Army to honor. African Americans also understood the unique opportunity of this long, two-front war, fraught with personnel shortages to demand their civil rights as citizens and their entitlement as soldiers to full citizenship. Consequently, black soldiers were more apt to spurn whites’ denigration of their abilities and citizenship. As veteran

Jim Williams explained half a century later, he had partly enlisted to advance the cause of civil rights: “I thought that if even though the army was segregated, if we went in and proved ourselves, when we got back home they would have to recognize us. And I thought that in a sense, they would have to recognize our deportment in the army and say,

‘Well, hey, look. These people are A-number-1, so we’ll have to treat them as citizens.’”76

For centuries, African American women also understood the significance of military service for their race. They recognized its potential to entitle black men to full citizenship, appreciated the opportunity it availed black men to demonstrate their patriotism, and promoted it as a strategic aim of the civil rights agendas. Black women had uncompromisingly supported their men in military uniform though not until 1942, would this respected platform unexpectedly open to them as well.

76 Jim Williams as quoted in Maggi M. Morehouse, Fighting in the Jim Crow Army, (Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield, 2007), 8.

44 Unlike their countrymen, neither white nor black American women at the beginning of World War II had definitive historical roots in the military. Few Americans, men and women alike, considered it a female domain. In reality, however, the Army had always utilized the services of women during war. Prior to the twentieth century, large female contingents often accompanied their soldier-husbands. Given the poor pay of enlisted soldiers and the lack of viable employment possibilities for women to support themselves and their children, many wives had little choice but to trail behind their husbands. Army officers and enlisted men alike disparaged them as “camp followers” of dubious morals, yet they relied on the women to cook, mend clothes, nurse the fallen, and, in emergencies, load weapons during battle.77 Improved twentieth century quartermaster services lessened the need for women to accompany husbands though not for the vital services a new generation of women could supply. The increasingly bureaucratic nature of the modern military required clerical workers and telephone operators, and the Army turned to women to fill these roles.

The feminization of clerical work and telephone operators owes much to the repetitive nature of early twentieth century office skills and machinery that could be quickly mastered. Rapid urbanization ensured a steady supply of typists and telephone operators at minimal costs.78 Women’s jobs paid far less than men’s “careers,” creating an economic gap that society justified by marking women as temporary workers whose

77 Women also supplemented their husbands’ salaries by offering their domestic skills to other soldiers. Cynthia Enloe, Does Khaki Become You? The Militarization of Women's Lives. (Boston: South End Press, 1983), 1-5.

78 Jeanne Holm, Women in the Military: An Unfinished Revolution (Novato, CA: Presidio, 1982), 11.

45 main responsibilities were to their families. Accordingly, the state championed policies that limited female employment options and pay in order to encourage marriage.

Progressive women were the most vocal advocates for legal restrictions on the types of jobs and length of hours. These laws, they argued, protected women’s health during their child-bearing years and mother’s time to tend to their families.79 The fact that these policies also lessened women’s competitive value to men for jobs and union representation carried little weight in the era’s understanding of “domestic womanhood.”

Within this ideal framework, women relied on male salaries and attended to the domestic duties for which they were deemed naturally suited. Public policies designed around this version of women’s roles reinforced society’s association of women with temporary, low- paid, and feminine-defined jobs.

In fact, by the twentieth century, women were a major part of the paid work force.

Historian Alice Kessler-Harris labels society’s misunderstanding of this labor reality along with its promotion of a natural womanhood ideal as the nation’s “gendered imagination.”80 Policies, she argues, shaped the image into reality by privileging male

79 Members of the National Council of Negro Women (NCNW) also advocated for protective labor laws for women. Indeed, as late as 1944, they opposed the Equal Rights Amendment, in part, because of what they expected it to mean for women’s labor rights: “Laws limiting the hours women may be required to work, regulating health and other working conditions, securing minimum wage rates in traditional low-paid industries and the like would cease to be effective if this amendment were to become part of our Constitution.” “Telefact,” Oct-Nov 1944, 3, National Park Service/Mary McLeod Bethune Council House NHS.DeWaMMB, NABWH_001_S13_B02_F31; also see Linda Gordon, “Black and White Visions of Welfare: Women’s Welfare Activism, 1890-1945 in Hine, “We Specialize in the Wholly Impossible”; Giddings, When and Where I Enter, 467.”

80 Alice Kessler-Harris, In Pursuit of Equity Women, Men, and the Quest for Economic Citizenship in Twentieth-Century America (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), 6-7.

46 labor. Because women were consequently less able than men to financially support families, they also considered wage labor as, at best, a limited experience before marriage and, at worst, the “fallback” plan if marriage plans did not work out.81 During World War

I, the Army took advantage of the few options women had in the workplace. Their skills, temporary work expectations, and affordable salaries made them an ideal workforce during the rapid build-up.82 The Army preferred to hire female workers when needed and later summarily dismiss them, as it did African American soldiers, immediately after the urgency subsided.

Unlike the civil rights movement, which stood solidly united behind military service for African Americans, women’s movements of the early twentieth century were not only more fragmented, but displayed negligible interest in this traditionally male domain. There were exceptions. During World War I, some women petitioned the War

Department to enlist females, and the more resolute among them formed their own local female militias. Officials were under little pressure to respond because the mainstream

Americans unquestioningly associated soldiering with men and masculinity.83

81 Ibid.

82 During World War I, the War Department contracted 5,000 civilian women for clerical duties in Europe. It was not enough. To help make up the shortfall, the British loaned members of its women’s army corps to General John J. Pershing, Commander of the American Expeditionary Forces. The Army also recruited over 20,000 nurses, half of whom served overseas. In all, over 34,000 women served in all of the services during World War I, most as members of the nurse corps. Holm, Women in the Military, 10-14.

83 Quote from Meyer, Creating GI Jane, 12-14; the Army did have women in nurses’ uniforms. Established in 1901, the Army Nurse Corps (ANC) remained separate from the Regular Army, its members receiving lesser pay and benefits. Only at the end of World War I did the Army accept a small number of black women in the ANC. Thereafter it reduced the service to just 1,000 nurses, all white. During World War II, 31.3 percent of the country’s qualified and working nurses had 47 Additionally, the war ended before the Army suffered manpower shortages that could not be met by its reserve of African American men.

Interestingly, the Navy during World War I did call on women to serve in its force. Because Navy policy consigned black men to mess duties, it turned to women to relieve its labor shortage – not as hired hands as did the Army, but as official members of the naval forces. Secretary of the Navy Josephus Daniels managed the unprecedented move through a literal interpretation of enlistment regulations that authorized recruitment of “any citizen of the United States.” Since lawmakers had previously taken for granted that only men could serve in the military, they had not thought to add a “male only” stipulation. Historian Leisa Meyer asserts that Daniels’ recruitment of women so threatened the established tradition of white males as protectors of women that an appalled Congress quickly amended the law to read that males only were eligible for service.84 After this change, all military services would require congressional approval to enlist women. Before then, the Navy had formally inducted 13,305 women into the service, including twenty-four black women. In all, just 6,750 African American men served in the Navy during World War I, half the number of women who enlisted.85

Though no large feminist movement advocated the enlistment of women in the military, several high profile women did, most notably, Edith Nourse Rogers. Before her congressional career as a Republican representative from Massachusetts, Rogers had

joined the ANC, 76,000 in all. In 1941, the ANC accepted black nurses and by 1945, a total of 500 had joined. Hartmann, Home Front and Beyond, 32.

84 Meyer, Creating GI Jane, 14.

85 Ibid.; MacGregor, Integration of the Armed Forces, 5.

48 witnessed first-hand the differences in treatment accorded female hired “civil servants” and male “soldier patriots.” In France during World War I, she observed the shabby conditions, lack of medical treatment, and relative neglect of women who were fulfilling many of the same responsibilities as non-combat soldiers, though without similar benefits or recognition. “I saw the women in France,” she recounted years later, “and how they had no suitable quarters and no Army discipline. Many dietitians and physiotherapists who served then are still sick in the hospital, and I was never able to get any veterans’ compensation for them.”86 The experience committed Rogers to their cause and, in early

1941, she drafted a bill to enlist women into the Army. Representative Margaret Chase

Smith (R-Maine) approved as did First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt—who not only supported the idea, but seemed interested in drafting a plan of her own.87 Meanwhile, less prominent female citizens began canvassing government officials, urging them to provide

“an outlet for the patriotic desires of our women.”88 Some took matters into their own hands and, as had women during World War I, formed local female defense leagues.

Only Congress could approve the induction of women in the military, however, and no one was as well-positioned or as well-prepared to propose the bill to this purpose as

Representative Rogers.

86 Treadwell, Women’s Army Corps, 17.

87 Ibid., 17-18. The Army was not pleased to hear of the First Lady’s efforts in this case. “Mrs. Roosevelt also seems to have a plan,” Memorandum, Assistant Chief of Staff, G-1, General Wade H. Haislip, 29 April 1941.

88 Letter to General Marshall, Treadwell, Women’s Army Corps, 16.

49 Rogers shared her proposal to establish a women’s corps with the War

Department in an effort to gain its support.89 Desperate for an infusion of troops though leery about upsetting the military’s male culture and society’s gender roles, War

Department officials replaced her plan that included equitable status of male and female troops with a modified version that insisted on an assistant role for women. It was the best deal Rogers could secure in an atmosphere in which, she noted, “The War

Department was very unwilling to have these women as a part of the Army.”90 On May

28, 1941, she submitted the Army’s plan to Congress. Even with this change, however, congressmen proved resistant to the idea due to the threat it posed to traditional patterns of men protecting the home front and its women. “Think of the humiliation! What has become of the manhood of America!” heaved one alarmed congressman during the

House debate over the bill.91 To dispel concerns that military service for women would upturn conventional gender roles, proponents stressed the clerical, communication, and other suitably female duties to which women would be relegated. Both camps, therefore, situated their arguments along the customary patterns of segmented roles and jobs along gender lines. Allaying conservative concerns, Rogers and Army officials argued that the new corps would merely extend women’s domestic responsibilities to military bases where they could more readily support male efforts. Congresswoman Frances Bolton of

89 Susan M. Hartmann, Home Front and Beyond, 41; also see Meyer, Creating GI Jane, 14-15; Treadwell, Women’s Army Corps, 16.

90 Treadwell, Women’s Army Corps, 18.

91 Congressional Record, Vol. 88, No. 55, 17, 2 March 1942 as cited in Treadwell, Women’s Army Corps, 25.

50 Ohio assured her colleagues that, “We want to make your jobs easier, and we want to make them [women] fit in better to the present day, which is a fighting world for you and an assisting one for us.”92

Seven months after Rogers first introduced her bill to Congress, and then only after the December 1941 Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor galvanized the nation to war, did the bill begin to move through Congress. In its final form, women would serve as assistants with the Army, though not in the Army.93 To clarify its position, Congress created a new corps for women, separate from the Regular Army, and inserted the term

“auxiliary” in its title. Stating the mission of the Women’s Army Auxiliary Corps

(WAAC), its first Director, Oveta Culp Hobby, announced that it would aid the Regular

Army by staffing “noncombatant jobs where women’s hands and women’s hearts fit naturally” in order to free men for combat.94 On May 14, 1942, Congress established the

WAAC and Roosevelt signed it into law the next day.95

When Hobby addressed the first graduating class of women recruits later that year, she aptly summed up the short history of the WAAC: “You do not come into a

Corps that has an established tradition.”96 In fact, the corps did not have much of a future either. Congress and the War Department planned to dissolve the WAAC after the war,

92 Meyer, Creating GI Jane, 21.

93 Ibid., 19.

94 Quote by Oveta Hobby, the first WAAC Director. Vera S. Williams, WACS: Women’s Army Corps (Oscela, Wisconsin: Motorbooks International, 1997), 42.

95 Treadwell, Women’s Army Corps, 45.

96 Vera S. Williams, WACs: Women’s Army Corps, 17.

51 expecting that women would return to their traditional roles of housewives and mothers.

In the meantime, women struggled for a place in the Army as auxiliaries. In Congress’s and the Army’s zeal to denote clear lines between male and female soldiers, they had created a confusing tangle of new rank classifications and regulations that befuddled even seasoned soldiers.97 So loosely connected were Waacs to the Army that male officers questioned whether the women were accountable to the protocols and disciplinary measures of the Army’s Code of Conduct.98 Could officers discipline a Waac for exclusively military infractions such as failing to salute an officer, disobeying a superior, or being absent without leave (AWOL) from their duties? Could they court-martial someone not officially in the Army? Within a year, Congress responded by replacing the ambiguous WAAC with the better defined Woman’s Army Corps (WAC), thereby greatly lessening such complications.99

Established on July 1, 1943, the WAC continued to deny servicewomen complete equality with soldiers though it more closely matched their rank, benefits, and disciplinary procedures with male soldiers. Several gender-based differences remained.

No woman, other than the corps director, could rise to the level of a full colonel. Under the WAC, servicewomen had to request benefits for spouses and children which were approved only if they met specific criteria. In contrast, the Army automatically authorized

97 Under the WAAC, officers were classified as Director, Assistant Director, Field Officer, 1st Officer, 2nd Officer, and 3rd Officer. Enlisted personnel were classified as 1st Leader, Technical Leader, Staff Leader, Junior Leader, Auxiliary 1st Class, and Auxiliary.

98 Treadwell, Women’s Army Corps, 43; 15-117.

99 Ibid., 220-221. President Roosevelt signed the WAC bill on 1 July 1943.

52 servicemen dependency benefits for their spouses and children. The bill also shifted the

WAC base of operations to the Regular Army, which thereafter took over WAC training and other administrative duties. Upon Hobby’s insistence, however, the WAC retained responsibility for disciplinary measures.100

Hobby’s interest in holding onto this vestige of WAAC authority after the conversion indicates the high level of importance she gave to maintaining separate gender roles. The WAC held servicewomen accountable to the Army’s Code of Conduct, yet

Hobby insisted that the corps had a better chance of success under the WAAC’s more exacting “traits and character” code. Her staff, in fact, had developed this standard of behavior in order to attract the “proper” type of woman upon whom, they believed, the

WAC’s survival depended. Certainly the acrimonious congressional debates over maintaining traditional conventions of manhood and womanhood sent the new corps’ leadership an unmistakable message that its members should conform to social gender norms. As director, Hobby fully endorsed this message.

To be sure, Hobby strongly believed in and promoted women’s intellect and capabilities, though within the prescribed boundaries of their sex, class, and race. Rather than viewing labor unions, legislatures, and courts as venues for women’s advancement, she considered the status quo an adequate vehicle for women to pursue their personal and professional goals. She was not one to join feminist organizations. Indeed, previous engagement in so-called “pressure groups,” such as those with feminist leanings, would

100 Ibid., 256-265.

53 have disqualified Hobby for the position of WAAC Director.101 General Marshall himself sought her for the position. In addition to admiring her extraordinary organization and leadership skills, he appreciated her interest in maintaining gendered divides. The Army was, after all, expecting women to readily adapt to the Army – an institution marked by masculine independence and leadership – and then return home as feminine homemakers dependent on protective husbands. Hobby did not disappoint. A product of elite breeding and private schools, she envisioned the WAC as a sorority of sorts that consisted of highly respectable patriots offering their womanly expertise to assist the war effort.

Throughout her tenure as WAC director, Hobby defined the proper Wac as a model of femininity. In 1943, she noted, “Particularly, we want to emphasize what it means to be a gentlewoman.”102

A “gentlewoman” apparently did not drink or socialize in bars, off-duty activities that civil society and the military expected of male soldiers if only as proof of their manly suitability for the military. Hobby desired a level of conduct for her troops unheard of in the Regular Army. Whereas an inebriated off-duty male soldier might barely draw his commander’s attention, the “traits and characters” clause considered Wacs “found all evening in bars even if sober” in serious violation of corps rules.103 The Army also accepted that healthy young men would be sexually active and therefore routinely issued condoms, conducted venereal disease classes, and provided treatment for men with the

101 Other services’ women’s corps invoked the same criteria for their directors. Meyer, Creating GI Jane, 18.

102 Treadwell, Women’s Army Corps, 498-499.

103 Ibid., Letter, 13th WAAC Filter Co, Richmond, VA to 3d Service Company, 2 February 1943.

54 disease. In contrast, WAC rules required total abstinence, insisted on monthly pelvic exams, and issued discharges for those who contracted venereal disease. Although being sexually active hardly qualified a male soldier for separation under the Army’s Code of

Conduct, it could under the WAC’s “traits and characters” caveat, and most definitely did when a pregnancy resulted.104 In this case, the WAC’s morality code coincided with

Army practicalities. Because the Army had not previously dealt with children beyond awarding dependency payments (including wives who cared for the children), it saw no other option than to discharge all pregnant Wacs, even those who were married.105

Thus, while the WAC created opportunities for women, it was deliberately designed for those who fit, aspired to fit, or looked as if they fit, the white, middle class prototype of feminine respectability. According to former WAC officer and later WAC historian Mattie Treadwell, “the practical fact was that at the current moment in society, and in recruiting, the habits and traits that rendered a woman undesirable as an associate of enlisted women were somewhat different from those that made a man an undesirable associate of enlisted men.”106 Those who did not properly meet these standards were likely candidates for discharge. Non-whites often fell into this category, especially those who suggested that the Army and the WAC practiced racial discrimination. The WAC had little patience for those they considered radicals, trouble-makers, and subversives.

104 Ibid., “Speech, Min, Stf Dirs Conf,” 15-17 June 1943.

105 Hobby successfully changed the type of discharge pregnant women, married and single, received, from “blue,” meaning other than honorable, to “white,” representing honorable separation which gave benefits to pregnant soldiers. This, she hoped, would avoid scandals of ex- Wacs returning to their homes both pregnant and penniless. Meyer, Creating GI Jane, 109-110.

106 Ibid., 108; Treadwell, Women’s Army Corps, 499.

55 Many whites also failed to meet the WAC’s standards, particularly the working poor, suspected lesbians, and those who held unconventional ideas about proper gender comportment.107

The new corps’ leaders had another reason to cling to high standards of femininity. Though initially deluged by more volunteers than they could induct, they soon struggled to meet recruiting goals. This consistent problem heightened Hobby’s and her officers’ already intense attention to the reputation of the WAC. They forbid issuing

Wacs contraceptives or offering sex education for fear that word of these initiatives would sully the WAC’s reputation among potential recruits and their families.108 When the Army’s Surgeon General, Norman T. Kirk, disagreed and organized a conference to discuss how best to disseminate information on venereal diseases and condoms to Wacs,

Emily Newell Blair, the War Department’s Chief of the Women’s Interest Section and a

Hobby ally, criticized him for treating women as men. Blair argued that his ideas

“reflect[ed] an attitude towards sexual promiscuity that whatever the practice, is not held by the majority of Americans.” Treadwell agreed. In her investigation into the issue, she

“found that women in the average WAC barracks could be brought almost to open rebellion when forced to share their ‘home’ with even one woman who was a prostitute,

107 Ibid., 106-107.

108 Hobby attempted to circumvent further speculation over the issue in a public statement carried by numerous papers. In at least two, Eleanor Roosevelt chimed in that Nazis had spread the rumor to lessen the number of Wacs who could free a man for combat. “Mrs. Hobby Denies WAAC Will be Given Contraceptives, New York, P.M. 1943; “Mrs. Hobby Denies Story WAACs Will Get Contraceptives, Washington News, 9 June 1943; “No Contraceptives for WAACS, Col. Hobby Says,” Scottsbluff, Nebraska, Star Herald, 10 June 1943. “Publicity, Ads, 1942-1949,” Box 296, File 228_01, WHC-528, U.S. Army Women’s Museum Archives, Ft. Lee, VA.

56 or diseased, or given to frequent carousing and drunken nausea, cursing, and fighting.”109

The WAC administration assumed that safeguarding the feminine reputation of the corps was paramount to its ability to attract respectable recruits.

Though Hobby stood at the center of WAC initiatives designed to maintain the social order, her personal background and accomplishments defied the popular image of the feminine helpmate requiring male protection. Before her appointment as WAC

Director, she had been a successful journalist, publisher, and businesswoman.110 She was also a wife (married to former Texas governor William Pettus Hobby) and mother of two young children. Hobby seemed to have successfully reconciled her various public duties with the 1940s concept of domestic womanhood. She also cut an impressive figure of independence and authority. At thirty-seven, she was an amazingly energetic and uniquely accomplished woman. However, like other women who came of age just as the hard battles for women’s suffrage had been won, Hobby did not overtly question society’s gender roles. Instead, she worked within established parameters that she believed enabled capable women to vie, as she had, for desired opportunities.111 Her example seemed proof of the possibilities available for hard-working American women in the modern twentieth century.

Like Marshall and Stimson, Hobby seemed unaware of the extent that class, economic status, and race hindered, if not completely blocked, others from the

109 Treadwell, Women’s Army Corps, 499.

110 In the 1950s, Hobby would also serve as the first Secretary of the Department of Health, Education, and Welfare under President Harry S. Truman.

111 Meyer, Creating GI Jane, 17; Hartmann, Home Front and Beyond, 41-42.

57 opportunities that she took for granted. The privileged daughter of a wealthy lawyer educated at several of the nation’s premier schools, Hobby possessed both the social network and skills to open doors that other women did not. Her neglect of African

American Wacs suggests an assumption that American freedoms granted, if in different ways, all Americans sufficient opportunities to rise through their own efforts. As a southerner, Hobby had been exposed to the inequities of segregation, and as a woman, was personally familiar with the obstacles her sex encountered in their bid for jobs and respect. Yet the 1920s and 1930s presented a new era for women like her. With the

Nineteenth Amendment’s securing women’s right to vote in 1920, new opportunities were emerging for women, especially in government service. Hobby and other educated and ambitious women immediately responded and successfully negotiated existing gendered conventions to pursue professional careers. Hobby recognized her advantages, yet her experiences seemingly convinced her that other opportunities also abounded for others as well. The status quo was working, though gradually, and her career was evidence of it. Consequently, Hobby opposed the efforts of women and civil rights groups to use the military as a vehicle for dramatic social change. Certainly her dealings with black Wacs attest to her probable accord with Blair’s opinion that “the Army is no place to propagandize new social attitudes.”112

From its inception the WAAC included black women, though as a matter of expediency than genuine interest in their service. At least two congressional proposals

112 Emily Newell Blair, Chief of the Women’s Interest Section as quoted in Meyer, Creating GI Jane, 105.

58 sought to attack racial discrimination in the WAAC and the continued pressure from civil rights groups to integrate the new force no doubt convinced the War Department to avoid more grueling debates over racial and gender issues. Effectively cutting off further discussion, it abruptly announced, just before the official creation of the WAAC, that the corps would accept black women along with whites.113 Civil rights leaders were pleased by the decision, but disappointed that their campaign for an integrated WAAC had failed.

Instead, servicewomen would be subject to the same segregation and quota restrictions as black soldiers. Nevertheless, on balance, civil rights leaders’ had more success with the

Army than with any of the other services, most of whom closed their ranks to black women until late in the war. The Marines would hold out until after the war.114

In general, African Americans responded enthusiastically to the Army’s decision to enlist their young women. The military could offer them opportunities to acquire meaningful job skills, demonstrate their abilities, and patriotically contribute to the war effort. Any one of these possibilities was a rare occurrence for most African Americans in the forties, especially black women, so when they came as a packaged deal, many sought to take advantage of the opportunities. Many years later, former black Wac Elaine

Bennett explained: “I wanted to prove to myself, maybe the world, that we would give what we had back to the U.S. as a confirmation that we were full-fledged citizens.”115

113 Lee, Employment of Negro Troops, 422.

114 The Navy WAVES and Coast Guard SPARS accepted black women only in 1944, while the Marines did not accept black women until 1949. Foner, Blacks and the Military in American History, 174.

115 Elaine Bennett, a member of 6888th Postal Battalion, recounting her reasons for joining the WAC as quoted in Brenda L. Moore, To Serve My Country, To Serve My Race: The story of the 59 This was precisely the attitude promoted by Mary McLeod Bethune, President of the

National Council of Negro Women (NCNW) and one of the Corps’ most enthusiastic supporters.116

Mary McLeod Bethune learned during her childhood in South Carolina the value of taking advantage of opportunities. Born in 1875 to former slaves too poor to afford an education for all seventeen of their children, she attended school and each evening taught her siblings. The experience invested Bethune with a life-long mission to promote the advancement of others. A tireless activist, she established a school (currently Bethune-

Cookman University); served as president of the National Association of Colored

Women (NACW), where she spread its gospel of “lifting as we climb”; and founded the

National Council of Negro Women (NCNW). In between these duties, she answered the calls of three presidents – Calvin Coolidge, Herbert Hoover, and Franklin Roosevelt – to serve on social welfare commissions. She was the only women in Roosevelt’s “Black

Cabinet.”

Bethune particularly inspired African American women. Her message had always been that young people should “enter every door that can be open[ed]” so when the

WAAC opened one of those doors, she enthusiastically backed it.117 Bethune expected that a record of military service and the training it offered would benefit individual black

Only African American Wacs Stationed Overseas during World War II (New York: New York University Press, 1996), 9.

116 Bethune tried to enlist in the WAAC, though her advanced age of 67 made her ineligible. Treadwell, Women’s Army Corps, 59.

117 “Dr. Bethune Pleased by Equality Strides,” undated 1952 article, Microfilm, Reel 10, screen 103, NAACP Files.

60 women through improved jobs, pay, and social standing. In due course, she believed, these advantages would also benefit the communities in which these women lived.118

Bethune emphasized her interest in the WAC by serving as the civilian aide to its director, Hobby, and urging black women to enlist, including the women she personally mentored. Her advice carried much weight. When recalling her difficult decision to join the WAAC, Dovey Johnson [Roundtree] consulted her family: “Grandma thought it was alright for me to go into the WAAC because Mrs. Bethune had something to do with it.”119 Johnson enlisted.

Black women joined the WAC for a variety of personal, community, and patriotic reasons. Victims of discrimination, most expected that fighting against fascism abroad would help combat racism at home.120 As one Wac wrote, “I am deeply conscious of the war against fascism and have dedicated myself to do all possible to bring the day of victory closer.”121 Likewise, Johnson remarked years later, “I never felt I was there for me, I was there for my people.”122 With two brothers in the service, Anna Morrison, (one of the Ft. Devens Wacs later court-martialed for her participation in the strike) had another incentive to enlist: “Whatever I could do to be of help to them, would help

118 Janet Sims-Wood, We Served America Too!, 55.

119 Ibid., 55.

120 Putney, When the Nation Was In Need, 118-119.

121 Letter from a Wac stationed at Ft. Des Moines [“name withheld”] to John H. Sengstacke, Editor of The Defender, 8 January 1944 as quoted in Judy Barrett Litoff and Davis S. Smith, We’re in this War, Too: World War II Letters from American Women in Uniform (New York: Oxford University Press, 1994), 76; also see Putney, When the Nation Was In Need, 13-14.

122 Sims-Wood, We Served America, Too!, 85.

61 everyone.”123 A common sentiment among the first group of black Waacs was a desire to help relatives and the nation during the crisis.124

Despite the well-publicized job opportunities and patriotic appeal of the military, enlisting as a black woman ultimately required a grand leap of faith that the Army would keep a modicum of its promises to them. Those from the South and personally familiar with Jim Crow reasoned that equal pay for equal work would ensure at least a measure of equality that they did not have at home. Those from the North, on the other hand, may not have fully comprehended the implications of institutionalized segregation. Such was the case of northeasterner Bernadine Flannagan who recalled her shock at the discrimination she encountered in the military. “I was surprised because in New London, Connecticut, where I grew up, everything was integrated.”125 Anna Morrison had lived in segregated

Kentucky before relocating to Ohio, but had assumed that the Army’s racial policy would be more akin to the North’s than the South's. She later conceded that she probably would not have enlisted had she been living in Kentucky with its daily reminders of formal segregation’s inequities.126

African American women did not readily enlist. Though ten percent of the female population of the United States, they averaged between just three to five percent of all

123 Author’s interview with Anna Morrison, 26 March 2002.

124 Comments drawn from applications of the first forty black women who enlisted in the WAAC. Screened by Mary McLeod Bethune, all were generally well-educated. Putney, When the Nation Was In Need, 2.

125 Moore, To Serve My Country, 58; Author’s interview with Anna Morrison, 26 March 2002.

126 Ibid.

62 WAC personnel during the war. This was partly due to other civilian opportunities that the labor shortage had opened for them, such as better paid domestic positions, factory work, and additional nurse training programs due to the military’s need for healthcare professionals. Most, however, were justifiably wary of any institution that practiced segregation. The appointment of Hobby as WAC Director did little to assuage these concerns.127 Some of their suspicions were warranted. Hobby wholly supported the segregation policy of the Army, was an unabashed member of the Daughters of the

Confederacy, and had little experience working with black women on an equal footing.

Certainly her pledge that the corps would “have the same liberal policy with respect to

Negroes that exist in the Army,” troubled those who were more familiar than Hobby with the Army’s treatment of its black soldiers.128 Upon assuming her post, however, Hobby deftly allayed some of these concerns. In addition to appointing Bethune her civilian advisor on race issues, she scheduled her first recruiting speech as WAAC Director with the women students at Howard University. In her personal appeal, she assured the co-eds that each volunteer could help her country by doing important work for the Army and afterwards return to society “a more efficient wage-earner, a more skilled worker.”129

Hobby’s initial interests in recruiting black women, especially from Howard

University, a renowned black institution of higher learning, reflected three of her main

127 Moore, To Serve My Country, To Serve My Race, 2.

128 Putney, When the Nation Was In Need, 29.

129 Treadwell, Women’s Army Corps, 423; also see text of speech, “The Role of Our Federal Government,” 6 July 1942, WAAC/WAC files, The War Department, Bureau of Public Relations, Press Release, RG 165, Stack 390, Row 31, Comp 08, Entry 55, Box 21, NA.

63 concerns. First, she hoped to dispel civil rights leaders’ predictions that the WAAC’s segregation policies would dissuade qualified African Americans from enlisting.130

Second, she was anxious to meet recruiting goals and hoped black candidates would provide the numbers she needed for the enterprise to succeed. Lastly, she needed capable black officers. Unlike the Regular Army that preferred to place white officers over black men, the women’s corps stipulated that all black units would have a black Wac company commander.131 No doubt aware of the multitude of reports denouncing the abilities of black male officers, Hobby was determined to secure the best and the brightest candidates for WAAC commissions. At Howard, she hit the right chords, describing the corps as “a truly democratic women’s army” and assuring her audience that those who joined would be treated on par with white Waacs of equal rank.132 Her efforts paid off handsomely, at least in regards to the first class of officers. She met her goal of 400 candidates, including the full ten percent quota of African Americans. This was a rare moment. After that, the corps regularly fell behind in attracting sufficient numbers of women of any race. 133

Despite this promising beginning, the relationship between black recruits and the predominately white WAAC leadership quickly cooled. Once in uniform, black women

130 Putney, When the Nation Was In Need, 29.

131 Treadwell, Women’s Army Corps, 597.

132 Lee, Employment of Negro Troops, 423. Hobby to Howard University students, “The Role of Our Federal Government,” 6 July 1942.

133 Not all recruiters were interested in enlisting black women. Complaints from Dallas to Richmond and St. Paul to Pittsburgh noted that recruiters around the country refused to give them applications; of those who applied, the Army rejected over 50 percent of black applicants compared to 22 percent of white women, Putney, When the Nation Was In Need, 29-30; also see additional incidences in Moore, To Serve My Country, 56-59.

64 learned that segregation did not guarantee any more equitable conditions in the military than it did in civilian life, and many fewer for those from the North. Meanwhile, the corps’ leadership, consumed by the rapid decline of enlistments, suspected that the presence of black women in its ranks was dissuading white women from joining. It was also having trouble placing black Wacs after basic training. Personnel procurement procedures required that Army commanders submit requisitions for the troops they needed.134 Few requested black Wacs, stranding nearly a third of the black Wacs who completed basic training at the induction centers for months afterwards. To lessen the overcrowding conditions, the WAAC engaged black officer Harriet West [Waddie], also a former Bethune protégé, to personally solicit possible assignments for these women.

Despite her efforts, few post commanders requested them. In contrast, requisitions for white Wacs soon outnumbered the women available in the corps.

The demand for white Wacs had not come automatically. Many officers adamantly opposed the idea of female soldiers. A year after the establishment of the corps, Major General Lewis H. Brereton claimed that “fortunately, I’ve no experience with that particular species [Wacs] and what’s more I don’t want any of them around here.”135 He was not alone. Male officers had never dealt with, much less conceived of, women in the military, and many were uncertain how their femininity would be taxed by the rigors of the military. They also had doubts about how their soldiers would perform

134 WAC officials had to wait for commanding officer requests before sending troops. “Conference with Mrs. Bethune and members of the National Council of Women -- Col. Hobby, Col. Catron, Capt. Strayhorn,” 16 August 1943, RG 165, Entry 55, Box 200, NA.

135 Liberty Magazine, 9 October 1943, as quoted in Treadwell, Women’s Army Corps, 275. Brackets included in secondary source.

65 around them.136 Eventually, the severity of troop shortages forced them to put aside their reservations and request Wacs. Once given the opportunity, these women quickly proved their value and requisitions for them surged. These requests were, however, for white

Wacs only. Those for black Wacs remained exceedingly rare, regardless of how shorthanded commands might be.

Hobby and her staff attempted to meet the sudden avalanche of request, an effort that would last throughout the war. Primarily, they focused on aggressive recruiting efforts. These failed to attract the number of white volunteers needed. In July 1943, they added another tactic, the recall of all five of her black recruiters from the field. Hobby harbored a concern that these women and their recruits were inhibiting white Wac enlistments.137 According to Treadwell, who worked closely with the director, “It was known that the presence of Negro recruiters had caused situations prejudicial to white recruiting.” Citing one example, she noted that in Sacramento, California, one of these recruiters had “appeared in public places giving public speeches.”138 The WAC leadership’s assumption that black Wacs contributed to their recruiting deficit signifies the desperation at the top to understand the problem -- and for good reason. After the initial burst of excitement, enlistments of both black and white recruits plummeted from

65,000 in the first year to an average of just 3,000 a month afterwards.139

136 Treadwell, Women’s Army Corps, 133.

137 Moore, To Serve My Country, 54.

138 Treadwell, Women’s Army Corps, 594.

139 Ibid., 766; see Appendix A, Table 2, “Accession of Personnel in the Women’s Army Corps: 1942-1946”; in the first year of the WAAC, 6,500 women volunteered to serve. Recruiting rates afterwards averaged just 3,000 women a month. 66 At the same time, the Army was stepping up its personnel demands. General

Marshall informed Hobby that the Army needed a total of 600,000 more Wacs. It was an exaggerated figure calculated to stimulate recruitment, yet the War Department’s more practical figure of 200,000 was also highly optimistic.140 Enlistments remained so low that by the WAC’s peak strength in April 1945, less than 93,000 Wacs were on active duty. By the end of the war, just 150,000 women had enlisted in the corps.141

Given its severe personnel shortage, the WAC’s reluctance to recruit black women -- and the backlog of black Wacs that soon developed – is revealing. Neither the

WAC nor the Army was prepared to utilize their black female troops or demonstrated interests in doing so. Indeed, despite the glut of black troops requiring assignments to other posts, an internal WAC memorandum asserted that many of “the Negro enrollees are of such inferior quality, not only in ability, but in character.”142 Such disparaging views among the WAC leadership regarding their own troops could not have engendered post commanders’ confidence in black Wacs. The Wacs’ emphasis on segregation rather than the training and employment of black Wacs did not help. By the summer of 1943,

140 Ibid., 239, 766; See also “General Marshall’s Report,” a summary of the Army’s Chief of Staff’s biennial summary, 1 July 1941 – 30 June 30 1943, Para 24, File: “Women’s Army Auxiliary Corps“ Historical Background WAAC/WAC ‘42-‘46,” Box 21, RG. 165, Stack 390, Row 21, Comp 08, Shelf 03, Entry 55, Box 21.

141 Appendix A, Table 1- Strength of the Women’s Army Corps: July 1942 – December 1946, Treadwell, Women’s Army Corps, 765.

142 Memorandum, Major GEO F. Martin to Hobby, “Enrollment and Assignment of Negro Personnel,” 24 May 1943. WAAC/WAC files, The War Department, Bureau of Public Relations, Press Release, RG 165, Stack 390, Row 31, Comp 08, Entry 55, Box 21, NA.

67 the main WAC training center at Ft. Des Moines, Iowa recorded a backlog of 900 black

Wacs.143

Occasional complaints to the WAC justified the leadership’s reluctance to fully incorporate black Wacs into military operations. Some white parents feared that their daughters were, or might be, training, eating, and living next to black women. On rare occasions, this did occur, most notably during officer training. With so few candidates, the WAC, as did the Army, integrated the program, and this put Martha Putney in contact with white Wacs. At one point, her white bunkmate told her that if her mother knew that she was “sleeping next to a Negro (she didn’t say Negro), she’d want her to come home right away.”144 To avoid such concerns among potential candidates and their parents, the corps’ advertisements suggested that its personnel, and its primary targets, were white women. For instance, a 1943 recruiting manual carried sixty photos of Wacs. Not one depicted a woman of color. It even contained nineteen pictures of men, all white, but no black women.145 By leaving out black women, WAC publications projected an all-white image of the WAC.

143 Ibid; 120; Treadwell, Women’s Army Corps, 592-594.

144 WAC integrated its officer training as did the Army. There were too few candidates to justify a separate program. In Putney’s July 1943 graduating class, just five black Wacs received their commissions. Sims-Wood. “We Served America Too!”, 156; The WAC integrated Officer Training Schools (OTS) in 1943. Bettie J. Morden, Army Historical Series, Women’s Army Corps, 1945-1978 (Washington D.C: Center of Military History, 1990), 16; Treadwell, Women’s Army Corps, 394; also see “What GI Jane Learned,” Doris Weatherford , The History of Women in American: American Women and World War II.

145 Recruiting pamphlet: “Facts You Want to Know about the WAC” (Washington, D.C.: Recruiting Publicity Bureau, United States Army, 1943).

68 Normally, Hobby protested against inaccurate portrayals of her organization. She vigorously attacked pin-up girl images of her troops and spent considerable effort ferreting out who was behind the infamous Slander Campaign. During 1943, rumors spread that women in uniform were inept, wayward, and manly and that their purpose was to provide companionship to male soldiers. Parents openly worried, one white father fuming over his daughter’s membership in “an organized uniformed group of whores.”146

Fiercely protective of the reputation of the corps, Hobby fought back against publicity that could lead to negative impressions of her troops, make light of their vital role, or adversely affect WAC morale.147

Hobby did not demonstrate this same dedication to the morale or media accuracy of black Wacs. Certainly these women also suffered from the Slander Campaign, indeed more so given their reputation as loose women. One black Wac recalled that “many people had the idea you were going into the service to be there for the sexual needs of the men.”148 Hobby seemingly came to their defense when declaring that rumors of black

Wacs being assigned overseas to act as companions to black men were false. More likely, she used the occasion to justify her refusal to send them overseas. Due to Hobby’s personal misgivings of African American morals, she resisted sending black Wacs abroad. Though white Wacs regularly saw duty in Europe, black Wacs would not be sent

146 Meyer, Creating GI Jane, 41.

147 An internal investigation of the rumors concluded that male soldiers had initiated the campaign Treadwell, Women’s Army Corps, 205.

148 Clementine McConico Skinner as quoted in Sims-Wood, We Served America, Too!, 201.

69 there until 1945. Hobby also encouraged the media’s exclusion of black Wacs, thereby leading to a false picture of the WAC as an all-white force.

Convinced that black women hindered white enlistment, the WAC leadership overlooked the far more critical factor of women’s roles in society. During the conversion from the WAAC to the WAC, servicewomen had the choice to reenlist in the WAC or separate from the service. In her history of the corps, Treadwell offers a list of reasons that women gave for opting out. According to her calculations, approximately half left due to family circumstances, such as a husband’s transfer or an ill relative’s need for assistance. As women, they were the assumed caretakers, and many therefore felt obligated to put family matters above military service. Apparently this obligation was occasionally more externally applied than personally felt. As Treadwell notes, “some women sought leave to try to pacify relatives and men friends before giving up all hope of enlisting.”149

The second most common reason for Wacs to leave the service was tied to job satisfaction. Throughout the war, both white and black women complained of the lack of training they received and of the low-skilled nature of their jobs. One white Wac reported that her duties were so minimal that she finished work by 9 a.m.150 Many felt their qualifications were better valued in the civilian work force. Not surprisingly, Hobby’s prediction that most of those who felt that their abilities were being put to good use

149 Treadwell, Women’s Army Corps, 225-228.

150 Meyer, Creating GI Jane, 80.

70 would reenlist in the WAC.151 Job satisfaction accounted to some degree for the more than seventy-five percent reenlistment rate in the corps. Notably, objections to African

Americans’ presence in the corps did not make Treadwell’s list.152

The Army, however, minimized the presence of black Wacs. Through policies that segmented their forces along lines of gender and race, they uniquely and profoundly isolated African American servicewomen. Rather than offering double coverage for their dual identities, these policies more often excluded them from Army plans and post operations. The Army, after all, could not assign them to the hard physical labor as it did black soldiers because they were women. On the other hand, it assumed that they could not qualify for training as clerical workers, medical technicians, and other specialized fields because they were African American. Unsure of how to utilize black Wacs’ services, they ignored them when they could and defaulted to employment categories of that mirrored civilian practices when they could not.

Divergent expectations between the state and its minority and female recruits were bound to clash. By admitting women into the Army and promising racial equality to soldiers and Wacs, the state inevitably, if unwittingly, expanded perceptions of greater rights, opportunities, and civil status among citizens normally denied the full benefits of citizenship. In turn, these troops compelled the War Department to address their heightened expectations for status in the military and society. Each concession inspired

151 Ibid., 226.

152 Treadwell makes no mention of white Wacs comments regarding black Wacs. In fact, most of these women would not have had occasion to come in contact with each other. The WAC had little prepared for black recruits with the exception that they were to be segregated. Treadwell, Women’s Army Corps, 227.

71 hope that this was occurring, though often falsely. As written, these “concessions” continued to enable the War Department to retain prewar social conditions. Throughout the war, the Army funneled the vast majority of its African American soldiers into service support units and Wacs into “feminine” assignments that mirrored their civilian jobs, such as clerks (secretaries), communication specialists (telephone operators), and medical technicians (nursing assistants). As late as 1945, the Army still permitted commanders to assign whole companies of black Wacs to cleaning duties.153

Black women enlisted in the WAC to contribute to the war effort, gain useful training, prove their abilities, and escape the narrow path society had carved out for them.

Posts that did not meet these expectations created conditions for dissent and resistance.

153 Leisa D. Meyer, Creating G.I. Jane: Sexuality and Power in the Women’s Army Corps During World War I (New York, Columbia University Press, 1996), 7.

72 Chapter 2. Introduction to the WAC

“You people have to stay in your place.”154

The young African American women who enlisted in the WAC in its first years brought with them high expectations as well as a formidable legacy of activism. The

1940s were far more prosperous than the bleak decade of the Depression, and the future looked promising. If personal employment opportunities had not greatly increased beyond higher wages for domestic work and a smattering of factory jobs, changes in black women’s prospects were obviously afoot. The establishment of the WAC and their inclusion offered some evidence of this progress, and those who enlisted brought to the corps a confidence that this new enterprise opened possibilities for them that their foremothers could not have imagined.

They also brought the legacy of these foremothers. Certainly, it was one mired in painful labor exploitation and social invisibility, yet it was also built on proud traditions of resisting oppression and asserting black women’s rights and their value as active members of the community. The Army, with its plans to isolate black Wacs in menial jobs, was obviously unaware of this history of activism, but then, the history of black women was not well-known by many Americans in the 1940s. African American women

154 Remark by a colonel to Charity Adams [Earley] after she accepted an invitation to the Ft. Devens Officers Club; Charity Adams Earley, One Woman’s Army: A Black Officer Remembers the WAC (College Station: Texas A&M University Press, 1989), 108.

73 knew it though, and they understood its primary lesson: black women could not rely on others to secure their rights, so needed to rely on each other. They also recognized that standing together and working collectively gave them their best chance of success.

Black WAC recruits, therefore, bundled their bags and headed to Ft. Des Moines,

Iowa’s WAC induction and training center with bright visions of a new era and a legacy that would, much to the Army’s surprise, hold it accountable for its promises of equal treatment of Wacs.

Between May and June of 1944, the four women who within a year would feature prominently in the Ft. Devens strike, enlisted in the Women’s Army Corp (WAC).155 In several ways, they represented a cross-section of the United States. Collectively, they hailed from the south, north, east, and west; lived in industrial cities and rural towns; and carried with them a sense of duty to their country. As African Americans, they also carried a deep commitment to their race and an ambition to improve their future prospects. As African American women, they expected that their service in the WAC would lead to careers beyond the usual service work generally designated as their place in society.

Twenty-year-old Johnnie Murphy enlisted in the WAC in Pittsburgh,

Pennsylvania. She spent most of her early childhood in the area, but when orphaned at the age of nine, she moved to Chicago to live with relatives. Murphy enjoyed school, graduated at sixteen, and then enrolled for a year of office study. Eventually she returned

155 All enlisted in 1944. Murphy enlisted on 25 May and entered active service on 20 June; Green on 22 June and 28 June; Morrison on 24 May and 13 June; Young on 31 May and 12 June.

74 to Pennsylvania, where, in the small town of Rankin, her plans apparently advanced no further than helping others with housework.156 Murphy joined the WAC in order to learn a skill, perhaps as a mechanic. She saw in the WAC her chance to get away from home and “find herself.” Just as soldiers have always done, Murphy joined the WAC seeking change and adventure.157

Mary Amerson Green from Conroe, Texas came from a large family of twenty- five siblings headed by her father, 75, and mother, 47.158 She attended Booker T.

Washington High School where the principal remembered her as a “quiet, soft-spoken, and genteel” young girl. At fourteen, she left school and worked as a maid in Galveston and then as a nursemaid in Houston. Each job paid $7 a week. In early 1942, she secured employment as a nurse’s aide at the Jefferson Davis Hospital, also in Houston, for approximately $10 a week. A year and a half later, she married Joseph Green. It was an unhappy marriage. By the time Mary Green entered the military, her husband had left her and their two young children.159 Presumably, the WAC’s offer of $50 a month with benefits that included the opportunity to learn new skills looked attractive to the

156 Testimony of Major Merrill Moore, Chief Neuropsychiatries Section. Army Service Forces, First Command, Lovell General Hospital, Special Order 295, Court-martial of Johnnie Murphy, 13 December 1945.

157 “Case of the Negro Wacs: An Analysis of the Facts and the Implication,” The Christian Science Monitor, May 5, 1945; also see “General Court-martial case of U.S. v. Young, et al (CM 278502),” Ft. Devens, MA, Department of the Army, U.S. Army Judiciary.

158 From 55, Chief Complaint – Condition on Admission—Previous Personal History, 1945.

159 Since women with dependent children could not enlist, Green would have had to have given custody of her children to someone else.

75 struggling young mother. Unable to enlist with dependents under fourteen, Green apparently signed over custody to them to a trusted relative.

Once in uniform, Green expressed, according to her mother’s interpretation of her letters home, a desire to emulate her brother who was in the Navy. She wanted to “get something out of the Army,” and “make her friends proud of her.” It was an attitude in keeping with her mother’s description of Green as an “obedient, docile youngster” with ambitions to “serve others while seeing life at its most exciting angle.”160 Green joined the WAC when she was twenty years old, the youngest a woman could enlist, apparently eager to put distance between herself and a failed marriage, earn a steady income to support her children, learn valuable skills, and contribute to the war effort.

Anna Morrison, also twenty, hailed from Richmond, Kentucky where she had earned $3 a week as a maid. She moved to Ohio, anxious to do something besides

“scrubbing floors and washing dishes,” but did not find suitable work there either. “What else was there?” she asked rhetorically years later recalling the lack of non-service jobs available to black women in the 1940s.161 Morrison joined the WAC because it offered opportunities for other types of work. With two brothers in the service, she also wanted to help bring the war to a close and her siblings home.

160 Comments by Green’s principal at Booker T. Washington High School and her mother in article by T.W. Humphrey. O.J. Cansler, “Conroe Girl Proud of Being in the WAC,” The Pittsburgh Courier, April 7, 1945.14; Department of the Army, U.S. Army Judiciary, “General Court-martial case of U.S. v. Young, et al (CM 278502),” 14; VA Medical records, Missouri.

161 Anna Morrison joined the WAC as Anna C. Collins. She married while in the service and changed her name to Morrison.

76 Born and raised in Washington, D.C., twenty-three year old Alice Young, one of fourteen children including two brothers in the military, had the most formal education of the four Wacs at the center of the Ft. Devens court-martial. She had graduated from high school in 1941. In 1943, she enrolled in Howard University where she trained as a student nurse at Freedman’s Hospital. To support herself, Young also worked as an adding machine operator at the Treasury Department where she earned a decent salary.

Nevertheless, two years later, Young traded in her civilian government job and its $120 a month paycheck for a military uniform and less than half her former salary. According to

Young, her recruiter told her that she would be eligible for a medical technician position in the WAC.162 Expecting to take advantage of the Army’s medical technician training program, she viewed her enlistment as a stepping-stone to a nursing career. It was a reasonable expectation given her education level, nursing experience, and the Army’s well-publicized shortage of medical personnel.

All four of these women, if not virtually all who volunteered for the WAC, reported guarantees of advanced training in fields where the Army had great need. When the Army opened its ranks to women in 1942, it paraded before potential recruits an enticing array of assignments within the medical, clerical, and mechanical fields, including interesting jobs as radio operators, photography specialists, aircraft mechanics,

162 Dept. of the Army Adjutant General Investigation of WAC Detachment, Lovell General Hospital, 4 May 1945. RG 159, Entry 26E, Box 914, 198, NA; Young had did her student training at Piedmont Hospital, Washington, D.C., “General Court-martial case of U.S. v. Young, et al (CM 278502),” 19 March 1945, Ft. Devens, MA, Department of the Army, U.S. Army Judiciary, 196.

77 and hospital technicians.163 In all, “239 important Army jobs” awaited qualified volunteers.164 Therefore, despite the trepidation of committing to the unknowns of military life, Murphy, Green, Morrison, and Young were no doubt excited about this unique opportunity to contribute to the war effort as well as to their own future prospects.

By June of 1944, all four had enlisted in the WAC and were making their way to

Ft. Des Moines, Iowa. Of the five WAC induction centers, it was the only one that accepted black women.165 Throughout the war, the largest number of African American

Wacs could be found at Ft. Des Moines. Over 56,000 white Wacs also began their military service at Ft. Des Moines before being quickly dispersed throughout the continental U.S. and overseas.166 In contrast, Ft. Des Moines fielded few appropriate requests for the over 6,000 black Wacs that entered its gates. Most African American graduates from the six-week basic training remained at the post for months afterwards.167

163 “Facts You Want to Know about the WAC,” U.S. Army -- Women’s Army Corps (Washington, D.C.: Recruiting Publicly Bureau, 1943); Martha S. Putney, When the Nation Was In Need: Blacks in the Women’s Army Corp during WWII (Metuchen, NJ: Scarecrow Press, 1992), 34.

164 “73 Questions and answers About the WAC,” U.S. Army -- Women’s Army Corps (Washington, D.C.: Recruiting Publicly Bureau, 1943).

165 The other posts were Ft. Oglethorpe, Georgia, Daytona Beach, Florida, Monticello, Arkansas and Camp Polk and Rustin, both in Louisiana. Additionally, for six months in early 1943, Ft. Devens also served as a WAAC induction facility for black and white recruits. Due to a lack of enlistments, it closed down in August 1943, nearly a year before Morrison, Young, Green, and Murphy joined the WAC. Putney, When the Nation was in Need, 4-5.

166 Putney, When the Nation was in Need, 4-5.

167 Originally basic training had been eight weeks, though by early 1943, the program was reduced to six weeks in order to quickly move Wacs (at least white Wacs) to assignments. Adams Earley, One Woman’s Army, 78.

78 Charity Adams [Earley], one of the first officers commissioned in the WAAC, commanded one of the two black companies at Ft. Des Moines. As early as the spring of

1943, her company was already over capacity at 208 women when orders came down to make room for another 200 trainees. An additional 150 troops were assigned to the other black company that was similarly over capacity. So overcrowded was the African

American area of the base that Adams had to convert the barracks’ community day rooms into sleeping quarters, replacing the couches and card tables for bunk beds and footlockers. The cramped conditions only worsened by the time Morrison, Green,

Murphy, and Young arrived at Ft. Des Moines – and the women knew why. As Adams noted, the women understood that “these conditions existed because post commanders did not want Negro personnel.”168

One of those who would openly express her resentment of the marginalization of black Wacs was Pvt. Ruth Williamson, who would also take part in the Ft. Devens strike.

Days after the action, she wrote her officers imploring them to “let all of Wac soldiers regardless of race and color … do the same work, that is if we can and our power as women soldiers allow us to.”169 Williamson’s statement encapsulates the issue for black women, in and out of the Army. While she and the members of her company had confidence in their abilities to perform as needed in the military, much of American society had far more limited ideas of what “their power as women soldiers” would enable

168 Adams Earley, One Women’s Army, 79.

169 Letter from Ruth Williamson “To Who ever Concerned,” 13 March 1945, four days after the strike action. RG 159, 190.17.13-00-1, Entry 26E, Box 914.

79 them to do. Of the 239 jobs in the WAC recruiting pamphlet, the Army ushered most black Wacs into assignments as hospital orderlies, laundresses, and other cleaning tasks.

A legacy of their slave past, service work had followed black women since emancipation seventy-five years earlier. Occupations other than household maids, laundresses, or agricultural workers had so eluded the overwhelming majority of African

American women that few white Americans imagined them in any other role. Even the magic of Hollywood could not unleash African American starlet Lena Horne from playing exclusively servant parts. The popular actress and crooner fought such typecasting by refusing to play maids in movies and, consequently, worked very little when on contract with MGM.170 On and off stage and screen, white Americans associated black women with menial labor, and with some basis in fact. The National Census of

1940 reported that nearly 70 percent of wage-earning black women – as compared to 22.4 percent of wage-earning white women – worked in the service industry, the overwhelming proportion of them in domestic service.171 Of the four Wacs court- martialed at Ft. Devens, at least two had worked as maids prior to their enlistments.

In her study, No Constitutional Right to Be Ladies, historian Linda Kerber proposes that Americans define full and responsible citizenship according to five

170 Horne often appeared in films in the role of a singer whose character was peripheral to the main storyline. Such segments were called “specialty sequences” which producers could easily snip out of the versions shown in southern theatres; James Haskins, Lena: A Personal and Professional Biography of Lena Horne (New York: Stein and Day, 1984), 67-79. Also see Appendix Table listing the percentages of black and white servants by region and major cities, Table A-12, 293; David M. Katzman, Seven Days A Week: Women and Domestic Service in Industrializing America (Urbana, University of Illinois Press, 1981), 281-314.

171 Florence Murray, The Negro Handbook, 1944. (New York: Current Books, Inc, 1944), 195.

80 frameworks of reciprocal rights and obligations.172 Two of the five are military service and the duty to remain financially solvent so as to avoid becoming a burden on the state.

In 1942, the state provided a path for qualifying women to meet the military service obligation, yet the pitfalls of poverty remained, and those who fell within its grip had no choice but to rely on other Americans for survival. Employment status mattered. Indeed, it determined a citizen’s standing in society. A job with a decent salary indicated a sense of personal responsibility and moral character by virtue of independence from state coffers. Individuals who met this obligation were more likely to gain entitlements to citizenship status. Those who could not had far less grounds to claim such entitlements as

Americans deemed them burdens rather than assets to the states. Faith in American democracy nurtured the notion that through hard work and perseverance, any man could prosper in the United States. Any woman could, too, though usually through her association with male relatives who held steady jobs with decent pay.

Labor statistics showcased a different reality, especially in regards to African

American women. No matter how long and hard they worked, their prospects remained firmly cemented below those of white men, white women, and black men. In 1939, for example, black women earned on average 38 percent less than white women and 51 percent less than black men.173 Just 5 percent of black women earned professional degrees, primarily in the two fields available to them, teaching and nursing. Exclusively

172 These are the duties to remain financially solvent, military service, jury duty, payment of taxes, and loyalty to the state. Linda Kerber, No Constitutional Right to be Ladies: Women and Obligation of Citizenship (New York: Hill and Wang, 1998.)

173 Paula Giddings, When and Where I Enter: The Impact of Black Women on Race and Sex in American (Toronto: Bantam Books, 1985), 238.

81 black clientele with little economic means assured salaries remained below whites as did state policies. In 1942, for example, South Carolina paid white teachers an average of

$100 a month compared to just $60 to $75 to black teachers.174 Even this low salary was far more than most African Americans could aspire to. Formal education for the vast majority of them was out of reach. Black women worked as agricultural laborers, laundresses, and private household maids, the latter typically paying just $2-$15 for six to seven days of work.

Many white Americans reasoned that black women’s positions as low paid menial workers rested not with the system which, after all, seemed to work for them, but with the women themselves. They variously attributed black women’s narrow employment options to the weaknesses of their sex, the cultural backwardness of their race, and even the convenient images of happy mammies born to such work. Many also sexualized them as jezebels, wanton black women best kept busy and monitored by their employers.

Whatever their reasons, white Americans’ general acceptance of the narrow and unfavorable confines of black women’s labor suggest white assumptions that black women were best utilized in menial tasks.

Despite assumed natural proclivities of African American women towards service work, the segmentation of the American labor force was aided, abetted, and directed by state policies. This is especially obvious in the South where, as late as 1920, over 90 percent of adult black women lived.175 Jim Crow laws added thick layers of legal

174 Murray, Negro Handbook 1944, 37.

175 Heavy migration to the North and West quickly diminished these figures to 80 percent of adult black women residing in the South in 1930 and 75 percent in 1940, Rosalyn Terborg-Penn, 82 restrictions to the personal freedom, rights, education, and job opportunities of all African

Americans. Accordingly, the southern labor market was, by design, highly segregated.

Atlanta, Georgia’s employment statistics illustrate the intensity of this racial and gendered segmentation. From Reconstruction to World War I, African American women accounted for 96 to 99 percent of the city’s maids and laundresses.176 Furthermore, most black women had little choice whether to enter the job market. Racially discriminatory hiring practices that consigned black men into low-paying and often seasonal work ensured that women were often the only consistent breadwinners of black families.177

Since most of the Ft. Devens Wacs were born in the 1920s, this is the world most of them knew.

Because of their long hours, subsistence pay, and reliance on whites for employment, black women workers had long before the 1920s developed strategies to maintain their dignity and independence. They usually resisted live-in maid arrangements, frequently exercised their right to quit unsatisfactory jobs, and joined other black women in clubs that provided social forums to discuss job situations.178 Within these groups, women could share the frustrations of their work environment; discuss methods for dealing with petty, tightfisted, and unscrupulous employers; and debate how

“Discontented Black Feminists,” in Hine, Darlene Clark, Wilma King, and Linda Reed. eds. "We Specialize in the Wholly Impossible": A Reader in Black Women's History (Brooklyn, New York: Carlson Publishing, 1995), 494.

176 Tera W. Hunter, To ‘Joy My Freedom (Cambridge: Harvard Press, 1997), 50 & Table 2: “Wage-earning population in Atlanta (ages 10 and over), 1870-1920,” 241.

177 Ibid.

178 Hunter, To ‘Joy My Freedom, 68-73.

83 and when to draw the line on discriminatory treatment. Historian Stephanie Shaw offers that this "history of ‘voluntary associations’ among African-Americans indicates a historical legacy of collective consciousness and mutual associations.”179 Given that the

Ft. Devens Wacs strike began as a collective enterprise, women’s clubs deserve further attention.

Because official channels generally remained closed to women of all races, women’s societies proliferated throughout the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. These avenues for the marginalized promoted social, political, and professional agendas. They also sharpened the political skills of members and transitioned concerned citizens into movement leader, such as Susan B. Anthony, Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Ida B. Wells,

Mary McLeod Bethune, and a myriad of lesser known activists who provided the backbone of local groups. Few clubs were racially or socially mixed. De jure and de facto segregation ensured that members congregated with women of their own race. No such laws governed the class make-up of groups, yet members tended to share the same economic background. Despite these differences, nearly all women’s clubs capitalized on conventional maternal roles. Members saw themselves as the guiding force and the spiritual core of the family and, by extension, the nation.

White clubwomen tended to center their efforts on gaining admittance into male domains, from voting booths to social reform movements to professional associations.

Most sought to broaden the status quo believing that once women had the same

179 Stephanie Shaw, “Black Club Women and the Creation of the National Association of Colored Women” in Hine, “We Specialize in the Wholly Impossible,” 434.

84 opportunities as men, their special feminine attributes would foster a more caring, just, and equitable society. Neither the temperance nor suffragist movements, for example, fully questioned the underlying economic and social policies that forced women’s dependency upon drunken husbands and all-white male legislative bodies. Instead, each platform accepted the prevalent view that men should support families. Many well- meaning white clubwomen devoted themselves to at least temporarily alleviating the poverty and misfortune of individual women, though ever mindful to avoid, as historian

Linda Gordon asserts, “destroying their [men’s] work incentive.”180 Despite their own unconventional public lives and activism, they promoted the message that a woman’s place was in the home where, financially supported by her husband, she could devote her attention to domestic duties.

With far less economic or social leverage in their hands or in their men’s hands, black women’s initial collective actions lay in protecting themselves from physical violence and labor exploitation.181 Though often disenfranchised citizens, they created opportunities for themselves, even the poorest among them, to participate in efforts to protect and help each other.182 The National Association of Colored Women (NACW) imbued this notion. Established in 1896, it adopted the motto “lifting as we climb.”

180 Linda Gordon, “Black and White Visions of Welfare: Women’s Welfare Activism, 1890- 1945,” Hine, “We Specialize in the Wholly Impossible”; Giddings, When and Where I Enter, 467.

181 For a thorough account of violence and black women, see Danielle L. McGuire At the Dark End of the Street Black Women, Rape, and Resistance: A New History of the Civil Rights Movement from Rosa Parks to the Rise of Black Power (New York: Knopf, 2010); Shaw, “Black Club Women and the Creation of the National Association of Colored Women,” 434.

182 Shaw, “Black Club Women and the Creation of the National Association of Colored Women,”435.

85 NACW co-founder and president Mary Church Terrell reasoned that only through

“reclaiming” the most downtrodden could African Americans hope to benefit the race.183

So influential was the NACW’s strategy to work through women to benefit the whole community that it remained the leading civil rights organization until the establishment of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP) in 1909.

Since African American women understood that even the most prestigious national black leaders, male and female, had limited clout with state leaders, they depended on each other and their local initiatives to help themselves. One of the most publicized examples of their collective actions occurred in the late 1800s when southern laundresses organized strikes to protest subsistence level salaries for the heavy and exhausting labor they performed. Surviving local newspapers gave little attention to the success or failure rates of these actions. The periodic nature of these work stoppages and their extension into the twentieth century suggests that black women considered withholding their labor an effective method to at least publicize their grievances.184

Significantly, black women used the main advantage they could wield, their labor, to push for rights and respect.

Not all took kindly to activist women’s organizations, white or black. Citizens parodied its white members as masculine prototypes and lambasted them for attempting to upset the “natural” balance of social relations. Black women’s clubs and their members

183 John Reid, “’A Career to Build, People to Serve, A Purpose to Accomplish’,” in Hine, “We Specialize in the Wholly Impossible”, 312; Giddings, When and Where I Enter, 97.

184 The Jackson Daily Clarion, June 24, 1866 as quoted in Hunter, To ‘Joy My Freedom, 76; Jacqueline Jones, Labor of Love, Labor of Sorrow: Black Women, Work, and the Family from Slavery to the Present (New York: Vintage Books, 1986), 237.

86 came in for additional scorn as noted in the “Eleanor Club” rumors that flourished in the

1930s and 1940s. Named after First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt, these societies allegedly encouraged “uppity” behavior among African American servants. Supposedly, club rules mandated that maids insist on the specialization of their duties, refuse to bring in wood or wash windows, enter from the front door instead of the back, demand extravagant wages, respond only when addressed as Mrs. or Miss, and refuse to work on Sundays. White employers who mocked black maids for their unquestioning adherence to seemingly absurd dictates also expressed alarm should their own servants follow suit. As one concerned white man from Georgia reported, “Clubs are making the Negroes discontented, making them question their status.” To be sure, the influence of women’s societies and the discontent of black women over their assumed place in society were real, far more so than any such Eleanor Clubs.185

The rumors reveal a genuine sense of foreboding that gripped many white citizens unsettled by the racial and gender changes occurring around them even before World

War II. The supposed slogan of Eleanor Clubs, “A white woman in every kitchen by

1943,” particularly piqued fears with its implied desire to reverse the social order.186 As servants in private households, African American women’s weekly hours in 1932 ranged between forty-eight to ninety hours for salaries of under $15.187 Justifying their servants’

185 Howard W. Odum, Race and Rumors of Race: The American South in the Early Forties (Baltimore, MD, The John Hopkins University Press, 1997), 73-80. (Originally published by the University of North Carolina Press, 1943.)

186 Odum, Race and Rumors, 73.

187 As a 1932 Philadelphia example, these figures represent Depression rates in the North. Wages were far less in the South, with Mississippi households paying maids less than $2 a week. Jones, Labor of Love, 206-207. 87 low pay and long hours, employers remarked on their patient benevolence despite their maids’ intellectual inadequacies and personal failings, including audacious assertions that they were their employers’ social equals. One widely shared anecdote concerned a white policeman who offered a black woman he chanced upon walking down the street the opportunity to work as a maid for his wife. The woman replied no and then asked the man if his wife would be interested in working for her. White audiences found her retort incredibly arrogant. Apparently, the man’s arrogance in assuming that a black woman would welcome such an offer escaped similar notice.188

Women’s clubs helped bolster the assertiveness of black women as they often provided the launching pad for collective campaigns against injustice. Their activism did not go unnoticed. In 1914, South Carolina Senator Ben Tillman argued against giving any women the vote for fear that black women, if given the chance, would surely use it.

“Experience has taught us that Negro Women are much more aggressive in asserting the

‘rights of race’ than negro men are.” At times they proved to be more aggressive than black men and white women, too. In a 1921 Baltimore election, black female voters exceeded the number of black male voters, and in Denver in1906 and Chicago in 1915, they voted in proportionally greater numbers than white women. In each case, women’s clubs had been instrumental in organizing and galvanizing voter participation.189

188 Race and Rumors, 72.

189 In the early 1920s, the NACW placed great faith in women’s suffrage and increasing voting rates wherever possible. Rosalyn Terborg-Penn, “Discontented Black Feminists” in Hine, "We Specialize in the Wholly Impossible", 500; The Colored Women’s Republican Club spearheaded the Denver effort, and the Alpha Suffrage Club promoted a black alderman who, upon winning the seat, the first African American in Chicago to do so, heaped praise on the club for making it possible. Giddings, When and Where I Enter, 123 and 130. 88 Many white Americans did not take threats to the status quo lightly and used their hold on the legal system to retain their control over black women’s labor. Their actions during World War I offer an instructive example. As migration north for factory jobs began to sap the southern black work force, a maid shortage developed in the south. At the same time, military stipends enabled some southern wives of black servicemen to quit domestic service and focus on their own homes and children. Meanwhile, the war also brought industry to the south. As white women vied for the relatively lucrative pay of factory work, they sought extra hands to help them with their household chores, thereby further exacerbating the already growing maid shortage.190 Black women were hardly enthusiastic about accommodating the white members of their community in this manner since they, too, desired the same factory jobs’ decent pay for fewer hours. To resolve the servant shortage, numerous southern communities enlisted police officers to raid black neighborhoods in search of potential maids. Black women who could not prove employment faced possible fines and jail time. Some were even tarred and feathered, including at least one wife of a soldier serving in France.191

Occasionally, local authorities perversely applied the government’s 1918 Work or

Fight laws, created to spur unemployed men to find jobs or join the military, to black women. In a ludicrous application of the law, they targeted individuals who businesses barred as employees and, who as women, the military would not enlist. Nevertheless,

190 Hunter, To ‘Joy My Freedom, 228-229. Also, refer to article and find Tuskegee articles

191 Ibid., 228-232; A cook in Jackson, Mississippi intending to quit her job got no further than her employer’s porch before the local police gave her the option to return to work or face vagrancy charges. Giddings, When and Where I Enter, 141.

89 these authorities found justification for their action. In Macon, Georgia, they asserted that black women had a wartime patriotic duty to engage in “labor [for] which they are specially trained and otherwise adapted.”192 Even employed black women could feel the sting of the Work or Fight law. When labor unionist of the Women’s Wage Earners

Association of Virginia tried to negotiate for higher pay, they risked arrest for

“interfering with the war effort.” Strike leaders argued that their work stoppage was as legitimate as the nearby strike by 3,000 white male workers at Norfolk naval base, but to no avail. The government ordered the women back to work while allowing the men’s action to continue. 193

Such treatment helps explain the massive migrations north. Between 1916 and

1920, approximately 500,000 African Americans left the South.194 So rapid was it that in

1917, in an attempt to stem the loss of cheap labor, the governor of Georgia, Hugh

Dorsey, appealed to white employers, asking them to demonstrate greater benevolence toward their black workers. His sentiments, however, ignored the fundamentally-flawed state policies that drove so many from their southern homes.195 As the Army would attempt to do in the 1940s, Dorsey sought to solve a labor shortage problem without upsetting the social order. Given the unrelenting Jim Crow policies and customs, it was a counter-intuitive strategy. From 1920 to 1930, the share of African Americans in the

192 Hunter, “Domination and Resistance,” in Hine, 350.

193 As quoted in Giddings, When and Where I Enter, 140.

194 Ibid., 141.

195 Hunter, To ‘Joy My Freedom, 237.

90 South dropped from 90 percent to 80 percent. Men were more likely to set out first in order to secure work and travel fare for their families, yet millions of women also made the trek. According to historian Paula Giddings, “World War I gave black women their first opportunity to be employed in jobs other than domestic work or teaching in colored schools.” Black women found employment as factory workers, office clerks, and even government professionals in jobs that paid, as did service work in the north, better salaries than they could earn at home. More importantly, these jobs signified a greater availability of career choices and more opportunities to utilize their intellectual abilities.

Then the Depression hit.196

The extreme poverty of the Depression compelled the federal government to enact measures to stabilize the economy and bring relief to millions of Americans. The New

Deal’s multi-faceted Social Security Act attempted to do so through worker-tied benefits that included unemployment compensation, health care provisions, disability pay, and old-age pensions for workers. Similarly, the National Labor Relations Act (NLRA) passed later that year, granted workers the right to unionize and collectively bargain for better pay, hours, and benefits. Three years later, the Fair Labor Standards Act (FLSA) set a minimum hourly wage and a maximum work-hour week. Each of these federal acts, however, excluded service workers and agricultural laborers, and, therefore, most African

Americans. Liberal politicians vigorously protested the exclusion that targeted African

Americans, yet in each case, they conceded to southern demands in order to preserve the major provisions of New Deal legislation. Consequently, the Social Security and labor

196 Giddings, When and Where I Enter, 142-143.

91 acts overwhelming privileged white, male laborers, the most likely candidates for steady, full time work, especially in manufacturing.

The debates surrounding the NLRA and FLSA reveals how importantly race figured in these discussions, and how little political capital women had to assert their labor rights. The racial divide was so integral to the South's social and economic fabric that politicians focused more on race than unions. The fact that unions were at a low ebb in the early 1930s and rarely hired African Americans anyway convinced southern politicians that they were not a threat to the racial or class status quo. This gave them crucial leverage in Congress: southerners would agree to union rights as detailed in the

NLRA, though only under the condition that the bill explicitly excluded agricultural and domestic workers.197 Liberals agreed and in 1935, Congress passed the NLRA. Three years later, the FLSA once again ignited debate over whether to include agricultural workers, thereby entitling them to, among other worker rights, a federally mandated minimum wage and maximum work hours. By then, southern union membership had risen, yet race remained a priority of southern legislators. Congressman James Mark

Wilcox (D-FL) explained the matter during discussion of the FLSA: “We may rest assured…that when we turn over to a federal bureau or board the power to fix wages, it will prescribe the same wage for the Negro man that is preserved for the white man.”

Claiming this was anathema to southerners, Wilcox concluded, “you cannot put the

197 The final Fair labor Standards Act (FLSA) of 1938 read: “The term ‘employee’ shall not include any individual employed as an agricultural laborer, or in the domestic service of any family or person at his home.” National Labor Relations Act (NLRA), U.S. Federal Government, http://www.nlrb.gov/national-labor-relations-act.

92 Negro and the white man on the same basis and get away with it.”198 Congress passed the

FLSA in 1938. It would not apply to agricultural workers. It would not apply to domestic workers either, though this time around, lawmakers had not discussed this nearly all- female category of workers one way or the other. By the late 1930s, they apparently took for granted the exclusion of a group that consisted primarily of black women.

Ultimately, New Deal compromises reinforced conventional race and gender dichotomies that left black women in the labor market particularly vulnerable. Americans covered under federal mandates enjoyed government-backed provisions to protect their work conditions, hours, and pay and to provide for them when sick, on strike, disabled, unemployed, or retired. Domestic servants and agricultural workers were not entitled to any of these protections. Furthermore, New Deal beneficiaries could consider these benefits their due, their deserved entitlements, since they worked hard, paid their union fees, and, along with their employers, contributed to their Social Security and pension plans through every paycheck. Domestic servants and agricultural workers had no such benefits. Their employers were not obliged to set up or supplement Social Security for them. They were not responsible for their medical care, and were exempt from federal minimum wage and hour laws. As a result, less than 10 percent of the nation’s black women received direct benefits from New Deal provisions during the Depression.199

198 Ira Katznelson, When Affirmative Action Was White: An Untold History of Racial Inequity in Twentieth Century America (New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 2005), 59.

199 Jones, Labor of Love, 199.

93 When World War II once again fired up factory engines beginning in the 1940s, northern employment possibilities triggered a fresh round of migration of southern

African Americans in search of work. Northern states did not as formally segregate

African Americans as southern states did, yet they, too, manifested a highly segmented labor force that ushered African American women into domestic duties. This was especially the case after their usual source of household workers, immigrant women, took advantage of the labor shortage to seek other types of jobs. Meanwhile, working white women and European immigrants bid a hasty farewell from cleaning other’s kitchens, cooking in cafeterias, and managing lodging facilities to field more lucrative jobs, especially those in factories. Black women newly arriving in the North and desperate for work eagerly snapped up the jobs white women left behind. As historian Jacqueline Jones asserts, “Black women were supposed to form a behind-the-scenes cadre of support workers for gainfully employed white wives.”200

Black women generally found far more preferable employment in the North than in the South. For starters, salaries were substantially higher. A maid earning $4 a week in

Mississippi could earn twice that rate in a northern state.201 Also, a greater variety of jobs greeted them, including in manufacturing where the percentage of black women quadrupled during the war years. Their wages rose commensurately. The greater personal

200 Ibid., 237.

201 On average northern black families, to which women largely contributed, earned half as much as northern white families, yet this compared favorably with their southern earnings which fell to one-third of southern white families. “Negro Women War Workers,” United States Department of Labor, see chart, “Percent of Negro Women among Total Employed Workers in Specified Occupational Groups, April 1940 and April 1944,” 16.

94 satisfaction over having more control over their salaries, working conditions, and potential prospects cannot be measured, though migration statistics give some indication.

From 1920 to 1945, the southern population of African Americans dropped from 90 to 75 percent.202

Most businesses, however, were not interested in employing black women, regardless of the president's call for non-discriminatory hiring and a rampant labor shortage. Job advertisements that almost exclusively featured white women reflected employers’ ideal applicants. In 1941, Roosevelt created the Fair Employment Practices

Commission (FEPC) to prohibit the defense industry from discriminatory hiring practices, yet many employers continued to avoid hiring black women. A factory in

Kansas, for instance, issued a call for a thousand new workers, yet preferred to hold out for whites rather than put black women on their payrolls.203 Others hired them reluctantly. Of the 30,000 women employed by Detroit’s war industries in 1942, fewer than 100 were African American.204 In a racial hiring order, black women typically filled

202 Of the 12,865,578 African Americans in the U.S. in 1940, 2,790,193 lived in the North, 9, 904,619 in the South, and 170,706 in the West. Murray, Negro Handbook 1944, 188; A much reported northern servant shortage crisis existed for families used to household help. According to the Labor Department, between 1940 and 1944, over 400,000 white maids quit their positions. Wages swelled from an earlier Depression Era average of $5 a week to $15. These higher salaries attracted an additional 50,000 black women into domestic service, but could not lure back white women who preferred their new manufacturing jobs. Such jobs required fewer hours of work for salaries two to three times more than they could earn as maids. Giddings, When and Where I Enter, 231; “Negro Maids Lured To War Jobs, Survey Finds,” The Chicago Defender, March 3, 1945.

203 Jones, Labor of Love, 238.

204 Hartmann, Home Front and Beyond, 60; Jones, Labor of Love, 239; also see Ruth Milkman, “Redefining ‘Women’s Work’: The Sexual Division of Labor in the Auto Industry during World War II,” in Women’s American: Refocusing the Past (New York: Oxford University Press, 1987), 374-394. 95 the jobs others passed up or left behind. In the chemical, metal, and rubber factories, employers reserved the better paying and more desirable production line jobs for white women and left the dangerous, dirty, and most physical work for black women.205

Factories also hired black women for custodial duties. A northern address might offer black females more opportunities than available in the South, but it rarely afforded them opportunities on par with those of white women.

Employer prejudice explains one reason behind racially-determined job assignments for black women though the outright refusal of their white women employees to work with black co-workers offers another.206 During World War II, several mid-western plants experienced white walk-outs or “hate strikes,” thereby forcing management, sometimes a bit too easily, to give into the demands of their white female employees. Similarly, office supervisors and department store managers cited their white clientele’s objections to dealing with black secretaries and shop clerks. As employment agencies explained, “We cannot put black women in the front office” where they would be seen by white customers who did not approve. Yet even Bell Telephone, whose operators could not be seen, refused to hire black women until 1944.207 Consequently,

African American women who longed for jobs on factory floors, at desks, or behind store

205 “Negro War Workers,” 18.

206 Philip S. Foner, Women and the American Labor Movement: From World War I to the Present (New York: Free Press, 1980), 258; as quoted in Giddings, When and Where I Enter, 237.

207 Hartmann, Home Front and Beyond, 81.

96 counters were more likely to be hired to clean those same floors, desks, and counters.208

Further evidence of white civilian managers’ pigeonholing of black women’s labor is illustrated in the reported discussions that followed rejections for factory jobs.

Apparently, managers often asked the same women they refused to hire for a business if they would like to work as maids for their wives.209

The rigid stratification of jobs sustained the high interest in black women for service work in the 1940s, thereby inhibiting their opportunities and earnings. A typical

1945 ad in the Help Wanted section of The Atlanta Constitution listed thirty-seven job offers under its “Female—Col[ored]” help wanted section, all falling into the job types of laundresses, childcare workers, bus girls, cooks, janitorial staff, and maids. Between 1940 and 1944, the percentage of the nation’s domestic servants identified as African

American women increased from 46.6 to 60 percent. The statistical hike marks less a surge of black women into the profession than the field’s steep decline of white women, particularly European immigrants who had previously dominated it in the North. In terms of numbers, just 50,000 more black women entered the profession during these years while 400,000 whites departed.210 Indeed, nationally, the proportion of black female domestics actually decreased from 60 to 45 percent. 211 Nevertheless, the high percentage

208 Ibid., 60/87.

209 Jones, Labor of Love, 238.

210 “Negro Women War Workers,” 18.

211 Hartmann, Home Front and Beyond, 90.

97 of black women in the profession ensured low wages.212 Despite Labor Department reports of improved wartime pay of $15 a week for maids, the salaries mentioned in The

Atlantic Constitution ranged between $12 a week to $55 a month, the latter a live-in position in Chicago where wages tended to be higher.213 Indeed the two Ft. Devens Wacs who had worked as domestic servants before joining the service in 1944 reported even fewer earnings. Morrison claimed just $3 a week in Ohio and Green $7 a week in Texas.

During the labor boom of the war years, 600,000 additional African American women joined the labor force with expectations that the nationwide labor shortage would improve their employment prospects.214 In 1940, less than 5 percent of black women in the work force held professional or semiprofessional appointments, just 1.3 percent were clerical workers or sales women, while another 16 percent worked in agriculture, leaving approximately 75 percent in service jobs.215 By the end of 1944, the percentage of those engaged in manufacturing quadrupled and the percentage in agriculture halved.

212 “Negro Women War Workers,” see chart, “Percent of Negro Women among Total Employed Workers in Specified Occupational Groups, April 1940 and April 1944,” 22.

213 “Help Wanted” Section of The Atlantic Constitution, March 14, 1945.

214 From 1940 to 1944, the number of black women in the civilian work force increased from 1.5 million to 2.1 million. “Negro Women War Workers,” United States Department of Labor, see chart, “Percent of Negro Women Among Total Employed Workers in Specified Occupational Groups, April 1940 and April 1944,” 16; The numbers of all women entering the workforce increased from 14 million in 1940 to 20 million in 1945. Giddings, When and Where I Enter, 235.

215 In comparison, in 1940, over 33 percent of gainfully employed white women were clerical workers, Jones, Labor of Love, 200; in comparison, just 2 percent of them were engaged in agriculture in 1940, Murray, Negro Handbook, 1944, 195 and Florence Murray, The Negro Handbook, 1946-47 (New York: Current Books, Inc., 1947), 98; also see “Negro Women War Workers,” U.S. Department of Labor, Women’s Bureau, 6 April 1949, Bulletin No. 205, 18; less than 5 percent of black women held professional degrees, Brenda L. Moore, To Serve My Country, To Serve My Race: The Story of the only African American WACS Stationed Overseas During WWII (New York: New York University Press, 1996), 92.

98 Nevertheless, distribution in service jobs remained relatively the same for black women.216 Despite a national labor shortage and aggressive efforts to break into other occupations, by 1944, seven out of ten black women remained in service work, the majority working as domestics.217

Social acceptance of a tiered hierarchy of employment opportunities and pay not only disadvantaged black women, but white women workers, too. In 1944, for instance, skilled male factory hands earned on average $54 a week while skilled women, just 4 percent of all skilled workers, earned just $30 a week.218 Bell Telephone paid comparable wages, with women clerical workers taking home approximately half of their male counterparts’ salary for the same work.219 Employers based salary differentials on the assumption that men were the sole supporters of families whereas women worked for extra spending money, either as single girls assembling their trousseaus or as wives supplementing their spousal allowance. On the other hand, employers made no allowances for women who might also be supporting a family or deductions for single men without children. Nevertheless, even these inferior salaries of white women lay far beyond the reach of most black women.220

216 Murray, Negro Handbook 1946-47, 99-100.

217 “Negro Women War Workers,” United States Department of Labor, see chart, “Percent of Negro Women among Total Employed Workers in Specified Occupational Groups, April 1940 and April 1944,” 16.

218 Hartmann, Home Front and Beyond, 87.

219 “The Telephone Worker,” United States Department of Labor, Women’s Bureau, March 12, 1946, Bulletin No. 207, 22.

220 Murray, Negro Handbook 1946-47, 99.

99 Despite the inequities, the war created a labor boom for both white and black women, if in very different ways that reflected society’s segmentation along gender and racial lines.221 Whereas white women had access to a greater variety of jobs, black women found a greater supply of service work, such as hairdressers. White women could look forward to better pay, even if typically half of men’s salaries for the same job. Black women’s wages also increased, though on average less than those of white women and black men. Consequently, many black service workers continued to earn less than the nation’s official subsistence level income of $20 a week.222 Whereas white women were finding jobs where pay, hours, conditions, and benefits were increasingly regulated by the government, many more black women labored in private homes where they had to fend for themselves.223 In general, women of all races ranked under men in the labor market, thus receiving less pay, status, and long-term consideration for advanced training and promotions. They also labored under the likely possibility that when the war ended, employers would expect them to vacate their jobs for returning veterans and to resume their prewar responsibilities. For white women, this usually meant taking care of their homes; for black women, it meant taking care of the homes of others.224 By 1945, argues

221 Deborah Gray White, Too Heavy a Load: Black Women in Defense of Themselves, 1894-1994 (New York, W.W. Norton & Company), 214.

222 Giddings, When and Where I Enter, 238.

223 Jones, Labor of Love, 257.

224 Most women returned to “unpaid work of housewives and mothers.” Hartmann, Home Front and Beyond, 91. According to Jacqueline Jones, “By 1948, most of the gains that blacks had derived from the wartime boom had been wiped out ….” Unemployment rates for black women usually were twice that of women, a statistic that extended into the 1980s. Jones, Labor of Love, 257.

100 historian Rosalyn Terborg-Penn, significant changes in the segmentation of the work force for African American women had yet to take root as “Black women ranked lowest on the economic scale among men and women, black and white.”225

Because African American women had not remotely benefited from society’s designation of them as low-paid, overlooked, menial service workers, they continued to resist this categorical diminution of their labor, intellect, and citizenship in the 1940s.

Armed with women’s clubs’ tools of activism, black women not only loyally supported union actions, but led several major strikes.226 They also continued earlier grassroots initiatives, including the “Housewives’ Leagues” and the “Don’t Buy Where You Can’t

Work” campaigns, urging boycotts of shops and businesses that profited from African

Americans’ purchasing power while refusing to hire their labor.227 In a meeting with A.

Philip Randolph, it was a black woman who first proposed the idea of a “March on

Washington.” In 1941, the plan compelled Roosevelt to create the FEPC that ordered war industries to hire African Americans.228 In 1945, Murphy, Green, Morrison, Young, and

225 Rosalyn Terborg-Penn, “Discontented Black Feminists,” in Hine, “We Specialize in the Wholly Impossible”, 494.

226 Overall African American participation in unions increased 5.5 percent during the war, from 200,000 to 1.5 million from 1940-1945. Collegial praise greeted black female union activists. One white male steel worker and union member commented that “there is no one auxiliary where the staying power of those courageous women has not carried the organization over some critical period … they were undaunted and gave great moral strength with their persistence.” Darlene Clark Hine, “Labor Movement,” in Black Women In America: An Historical Encyclopedia (Brooklyn, New York: Carlson Publishing, Inc., 1993), 686; also see list a number of labor actions which black women either spearheaded or worked with other organizations. Giddings, When and Where I Enter, 231-235.

227 These efforts netted an estimated 75,000 additional jobs for their communities. Jones, Labor of Love, 215.

228 Ibid., 233; Giddings, When and Where I Enter, 236. 101 the other women in their Ft. Devens detachment would also resist policies that earmarked black women as menial workers and regarded them as lesser citizens. By the time they enlisted, however, they were not only following in the footsteps of black women of the previous decades, but of the black Wacs who had preceded them in the first two years of the WAC.

Established in 1901, Ft. Des Moines represented a proud past for African

Americans. It was this western post that, in 1917, housed the first training program for black officers. In 1942, the Army would again rely on Ft. Des Moines to train non- traditional recruits, this time, women. Most white and nearly all of African Americans

Wacs trained at Ft. Des Moines. 229 Over 120 of the latter would also earn their commissions at the base’s officer training facilities as the Army’s first female black officers.

The Army’s essentially “separate but equal” policy manifested itself immediately upon every black soldier’s reception into the WAC – and for some even before that.230

Recruits usually traveled long distances by trains and busses and therefore had to stay overnight in cities along the way. Army handlers typically escorted white women to hotels while handing black women addresses for lodging in the black areas of town. As

229 Putney contends that the Army sent black Wacs to Ft. Des Moines because it did want to invite trouble by placing them in the South. Segregation, however, invited problems in the north, too. When Ft. Devens remained open, officers of black Wacs reported that “a lack of assignments caused poor morale.” After closing the training its training center, the Army transferred the remaining 600 recruits and their officers to Ft. Des Moines, “Memorandum for the Director, Control Division,” May 29, 1943, RG 165, Stack 390, Row 31, Comp 08, NA.

230 Jack Foner, Blacks and the Military in American History: A New Perspective (NY: Praeger Publishers, 1974), 148.

102 often as not, these were full by the time the women arrived.231 Once at Ft. Des Moines, uniformed personnel greeted them with the announcement, “Negroes on one side! White girls on the other.”232 Charity Adams, one of the first women to enlist, recalled this humiliating experience in her memoirs. She had traveled by train from Ohio to Iowa with a congenial, racially diverse group of new recruits, yet, upon arrival, she and the other black women were ordered to “move to the other side of the room.” Only then was everyone given instructions. “They could have done it with us all sitting there,” Adams said. “We had come together, we had slept in the same berth and had come to know each other.”233 Dovey Johnson [Roundtree] reacted more graphically to the painfully degrading reception: “This is like taking a nail and crossing your heart, I mean flesh bare.”234

By the time Green, Morrison, Murphy, and Young arrived at Ft. Des Moines, their predecessors had fended off some of the most offensively outright discrimination

231 After numerous black Wacs showed up late at night without reservations, one of the few hotel managers who had agreed to house them, Horace R. Clayton, cancelled his contract with the Army. Better known as a prominent African American sociologist and civil rights activist, Clayton (who was at the time co-writing Black Metropolis: A Study of Negro Life in a Northern City with St. Clair Drake), hoped his action would compel the Army to provide the same accommodation courtesies for black Wacs as it did for white Wacs. As it was, the Army escorted the latter to safe hotels nearby and sent blacks Wacs across town on their own, often in the dead of night, without regard to availabilities. Moore, To Serve Our Country, 76; Putney, When the Nation Was In Need, 49.

232 Adams Earley, One Woman’s Army, 107-108.

233 Ibid.

234 Janet Sims-Wood, We Served America, Too! Personal Recollections of African American Women in the Women’s Army Corps during World War II (Ph.D. Dissertation) The Union Institute, 57.

103 policies. When an officer used the term “darky,” for example, several Wacs asked Mary

McLeod Bethune to investigate the matter. When their acting commanding officer,

Colonel Morgan, learned of the correspondence, he labeled officers Johnson and Irma J.

Cayton “ringleaders,” threatened them with charges of treason, and demanded their resignations. The women knew their rights and refused to buckle causing Morgan, with no real case, to back down.235 Black Wacs also managed to have the Ft. Des Moines’ humiliating “colored” signs removed from mess hall tables and successfully implemented dining “Desegregation Days” on weekends. They also won the right to have their own black band. Initially unable to join the white WAC band, black musicians formed their own. The War Department abruptly disbanded it on the grounds that Ft. Des Moines already had a WAC band. The Wacs complained to civilian organizations and the press, thereby prompting a national letter-writing campaign in support of the black musicians.

Eventually Secretary of War Henry Stimson intervened and agreed to a separate black

WAC band.236

Though the women could be proud of their achievements, these triumphs were often the result of individuals putting their military careers on the line for the same

235 Putney, When the Nation Was In Need, 55-56.

236 With the help of several musicians from the white band and classes at Drake University, they learned their instruments. In June 1944, they earned a band rating and began performing at civic and military functions and at the NAACP’s Annual Conference. Their publicity campaign invited the attention of Mary McLeod Bethune, NAACP President Walter White, and WAC Colonel Oveta Hobby. Publically, Stimson intervened for reasons of morale, though privately he admitted that he hoped to avoid further publicity and racial confrontation. In either case, the musicians reunited and the band performed until the end of the war. Putney, When the Nation Was In Need, 56-60; also see Sherri Tucker, Swing Shift: All-Girl Bands of the 1940s (Durham, N.C.: Duke University Press, 2002), 53-4.

104 privileges automatically granted white female service members. For instance, when the

Ft. Des Moines Command introduced a plan to reorganize the black WAC units into their own all-black regiment, the women complained that such a move was equivalent to separating black Wacs in “a sort of South African ‘homeland.’” Post administrators were determined to move on with the plan and called a meeting of the black officers to discuss it – not its viability but its implementation. Appalled, several of the women took to the floor to express their disapproval, though none so eloquently as Johnson. Prefacing her speech with the removal of her insignia, a sign that she was willing to resign or be discharged over the matter if necessary, Johnson portrayed the reorganization as out of sync with the democratic values for which their country was fighting. Instead, she claimed, it threatened to interfere with their responsibilities as officers to work towards building harmonious racial relations among the troops. Johnson risked her commission, and it paid off. Four days later, McCoskrie issued a memorandum withdrawing the all- black regiment plan from consideration.237

Certainly these recent inductees tired of responding to the continuous stream of problems, but many felt that they needed to deal head-on with discriminatory actions of the new corps if they were to at least hold the line against racial mistreatment. They also knew they needed to choose their battles carefully. There was little point in protesting, for instance, when Ft. Des Moines transferred out all of its black – but not white – male soldiers within days of the arrival of the first Wacs despite the offensive message it sent

237 Col. McCoskrie claimed his plan for an all-black regiment was an attempt to give black officers more command responsibilities. Putney, When the Nation Was In Need, 14-17.

105 regarding a heightened sex drive among African Americans, male and female.238 In another early incident, and thus before the conversion from the WAAC to the WAC, overcrowding in the black barracks led to the transfer of cooks and bakers to the white cooks and baker’s barracks. When three white Waacs complained, their white male officer, Major Fowler, ordered the black women to return to their area with a reminder that “democracy was respecting the feelings of these white women who did not wish to share the same building with them.” According to a subsequent report of the incident,

“the Negro Waacs … ‘swallowed this pill – trying to get along.’”239 Likewise, the women bore the humiliation of the racial segregation of the base’s clubs and the draining of the post’s swimming pool immediately after their single hour each week. 240

Segregated officers clubs were a particularly contentious problem in the military, at Ft. Des Moines and elsewhere. With so few black officers, post commanders did not always invest in a separate club for them. In theory, this should not have been necessary after the 1943 Army directive banning racial segregation in all base recreation centers,

238 1st Officer Harriet West of the WAAC reported in a radio interview that “There were 40 Negro soldiers stationed at Fort Des Moines prior to the arrival of the Waacs, but they were transferred to Camp Dodge within two days after we arrived there”; interview on “Radio Broadcast WINX,” April 23, 1943. RG 165, Stack 390, Row 21, Comp 08, Shelf 03, Entry 55, Box 21, NA.

239 A summary of complaints to the NAACP list the following five categories: Limitation of Opportunity, Segregation, Poor Physical Examinations, Misrepresentation by Recruiting Officers, and Constant K.P. duties; see “Report of NAACP Investing Committee on WAAC Complaints,” May 12, 1945, RG 165, 390/31, Entry 54, Box 49, NA.

240 As late as April 1945, the swimming pool and officer’s club situation had yet to be rectified. See letter from unidentified Wac, Quarters 2, Ft. Des Moines, Iowa to Roy Wilkins, April 4, 1945, “Discrimination in the U.S. Armed Forces, 1918-1955,” Part 9, Series B, Reel 25, NAACP (microfilm) Papers.

106 including officers clubs.241 In practice, however, tradition overrode the directive. On one occasion, Adams reluctantly accepted an invitation to the club by a white male officer only to be severely reprimanded by her superior officer the next day. Roundly castigating her supposed arrogance for a full forty-five minutes, he warned her, “Don’t let being an officer go to your head; you are still colored and I want you to remember that.” He then informed her that he was from South Carolina, her state of birth. “Why, your folks might have been slaves to my people right in South Carolina, and here you are acting like you are the same as white folks.” Before giving Adams permission to leave, he warned her,

“You people have to stay in your place.”242

The Army worked overtime to segregate its black and white troops, yet some white women did not feel it went far enough. Parents and their representatives occasionally expressed righteous indignation over the “forced mixing” of their innocent youth. Congressman George H. Mahon of Texas explained his concern for one of his constituents in a letter to Hobby: “This fine girl along with others is now forced to share the same living quarters, bathroom, facilities, restrooms, and reception rooms with

Negroes.”243 When possible, the authorities made the requested adjustments.

In rare situations, the Army integrated its troops as a matter of practicality. In

1942, for example, it integrated officer training school for Wacs as it did for soldiers. The

241 “Subject: Recreational Facilities,” 5 July 1944, War Department directive banning discrimination in post exchanges, transports, and theaters; refers to AG 353.8, of 5 March 1943 which “afforded equal opportunity to enjoy recreational facilities on each post, camp, and station,” NAACP files, Part C, Reel 8, NAACP microfilm Collection.

242 Adams Earley, One Woman’s Army, 107-8.

243 Treadwell, Women’s Army Corps, 591.

107 Army preferred this arrangement due to the small numbers of African Americans per session, often fewer than ten in classes of three hundred. The WAC Opportunity School was another exception. Created in mid-1943, it taught basic skills for those who had completed basic training yet could not qualify for Army assignments.244 According to

Martha Putney, who co-commanded this group during 1944 and 1945, its 100 to 150- person units consisted mostly of whites but also of African Americans and some

Hispanics. They trained and ate together and slept in the same barracks.245 Civilians occasionally cried out in horror over such racial intermingling, and even the Army officials responsible for integrating these two groups declared their sincere regret over the situation. They understood, however, that segregation in these cases was too costly and inefficient to implement.

Ironically, these exceptions to segregation involved the Army’s most promising troops (its officer candidates) and its most disappointing personnel (those lacking basic skills). Their similarity resided in their low numbers. Though the Army denied it, dividing and subdividing its force according to each service personnel’s race and gender was inefficient and expensive. With over twelve million troops, the Army could feasibly segment the bulk of its personnel to several degrees and still fill companies and battalions

244 In 1944, the Army added a Special Training unit to school those with exceedingly low scores on the Army General Classification Test. It was also integrated. Putney, When the Nation Was In Need, 9-10.

245 Sims-Wood, We Served American, Too!, 164-165; Putney, When the Nation Was In Need, 53- 55.

108 with Army-approved homogenous troops. During World War II, integration did not occur when the Army could integrate, but when it could not segregate.246

Despite unfavorable circumstances at Ft. Des Moines, the post must have appeared to new black recruits the gateway to new and exciting careers and experiences.

In general, those stationed there seem to have been positive about their futures in the

Army and optimistic about upcoming job assignments at yet-be-known permanent duty posts.247 Later, many would recall the advantages they had at Ft. Des Moines as unique, and, indeed, they were unique for three main reasons. First, with a constant stream of

African American women flowing onto the base and far fewer departing, there was, in effect, relative safety in numbers when resisting discriminatory practices. Second, since

Ft. Des Moines hosted the WAC officer training school, a number of black officer candidates were on hand with enough degrees and rank to be taken seriously. Third, since

Ft. Des Moines contained the largest contingent of black Wacs in the Army, it attracted much attention from black leaders and journalists who continually monitored the women’s progress and praised their courage for breaking new ground. Mary McLeod

Bethune, NAACP representatives, journalists from leading black newspapers, and even entertainer Lena Horne paid visits to Ft. Des Moines. Under the watchful eye of activists and reporters, black Wacs with grievances had at least a chance of being heard. Once

246 The Army relaxed this unwritten policy when it introduced the integration of recreational facilities in 1943.

247 Putney, When the Nation Was In Need, 71-73; Ibid., 5-6, black Waacs trained at Ft. Des Moines, the largest WAAC/WAC training center, and Ft. Devens, Massachusetts though white Wacs also trained at Ft. Oglethorpe, Georgia, Dayton Beach, Florida, and Camp Polk, Louisiana.

109 distributed to other bases in smaller units, however, they left these favorable circumstances behind.

Many left Ft. Des Moines for posts, such as Ft. Oglethorpe, Georgia, where they received hearty welcomes in concert with the promises of “equal opportunities … regardless of their color,” yet many more faced demoralizing assignments of menial labor at their new posts.248 Job assignments fell under WAC review for their appropriateness, yet the WAC leadership also had serious concerns over black troops' capabilities beyond menial labor. “Many of the Negro enrollees are of such inferior quality,” reported a major in her memo to Hobby, “not only in ability, but in character.249 Dismal scores on the

Army tests placed the majority of African American women, 66 percent compared to15 percent of whites, in the lower two of the five Army categories.250 In a desperate bid to increase requests for black recruits, a black WAC officer, Harriet West visited posts across the country soliciting job assignments. Few commanders requested them for anything but orderlies, laundresses, or KP (Kitchen Police). West eventually relented, and agreed to release the women for the “types of jobs not now approved,” such as “in laundries, hospital messes, salvage and reclamation shops, and chemical processing of clothing.”251

248 “Inquiry relative to segregation” from WAAAC Section to the Director, WAAC, 3 January 1943. NARA, RG 165, Stack 390, Row 31, Comp 08, Shelf 03, Entry 55 Historical Background, WAAC/WAC 1942-46, Box 21.

249 Major Geo. F. Martin, Memorandum for the Director, “Subject: Enrollment and Assignment of Negro Personnel,” 24 March 1943.

250 WAAC First Officer Harriet West, Memorandum for the Director, Control Division, 29 March 1943.

251 Ibid. 110 Bethune was much concerned with the trend in black Wac assignments, and an

August 1943 conference between NACW and the WAC gave her the opportunity to directly discuss the matter with Hobby. Bethune noted that the placement of most black

Wacs in menial labor jobs suggested widespread mis-assignments due to race. Hobby dismissed such assumptions, claiming that mis-assignments occasionally occurred throughout the Army. Bethune then proposed that Hobby assign more black Wacs to recruiting duty rather than pull them back from the field. This, she argued, would productively employ selected officers who in turn could target qualified personnel as recruits.252 Hobby rejected the notion, insisting that the former recruiters were needed on posts to deal with the black enlisted women. Bethune volunteered to personally recruit for the WAC. Hobby demurred. There was no need; black enlistments were on the rise.

Bethune inquired about black Wacs’ options to train for Finance Department jobs and other specialized positions. Hobby replied that not all schools would accept black Wacs and, anticipating Bethune’s follow-up comment, added that she could not force them to do so. Could they work as radio operators? Not without requisitions for black Wacs.

Could the WAC send black instead of white Wacs for a given job requisition? Not according to Army policy. To this and other questions, Hobby gave no ground by consistently stating that she was beholden to Army policy.253

252 Ibid.

253 Conference with Mrs. Bethune and members of het National Council of Negro Women with Colonel Hobby, Col. Catron, Capt. Strayhorn, 16 August 1943. RG 165, Entry 55, Box 200.

111 Though the Army and the WAC claimed an equal opportunity stance, they also insisted that “selection for training and duty is based on aptitude and ability.”254

However, as subsequent postings at Ft. Devens, Ft. Riley, Kansas, and other bases indicate, selections were more frequently based on prevailing attitudes regarding black female labor than on aptitude and ability. Consequently, the Army and WAC placed most black women in service work. This included orderly assignments in military hospitals – despite the reservations among the WAC leadership that this duty did not qualify as an official Military Occupational Specialty (MOS) for women. The Army’s official WAC historian, Mattie Treadwell, characterized the duty as “exclusively those of charwomen and kitchen police.”255 One of the Ft. Devens orderlies, Pvt. Willie Ruth Williamson, who bitterly defined herself a maid, obviously agreed.256 Shortly after the strike action at Ft.

Devens, Williamson compiled a comprehensive list of orderly’s chores to illustrate her point. These were to “make beds for bed patients…wipe tables…clean ash trays … bring the boys water to wash up … make rounds with nurses and doctors … go to the laboratory for medicine … go to post office for mail … help serve bed patients food also drinks … go to PX for bed patients … get food from mess hall and push cart … also lift bottles and garbage cans … cook breakfast … wash dishes … wash windows … wash

254 Telephoned to White House by Mrs. Hill, 16 November 1943, RG, 165, Stack 390, Row 31, Comp 4.

255 Treadwell, The Women’s Army Corps, 346.

256 Williamson letter, “To Whoever Concerned,” 13 March 1945.

112 floors.”257 As many black Wacs commented, they could have stayed civilians to do this type of work.

Connecting African American women to service work may have seemed reasonable to non-blacks in the 1940s, yet it conveniently overlooked the wartime inroads they were making as civilians. Between 1940 and 1944, just four years when a slight window of opportunity opened, the number of black women quadrupled in factories, doubled in stores as sales clerks, and quintupled in offices as clerical workers.

Segregation, of course, assured the invisibility of most gains to whites.258 Moreover, New

Deal legislation enacted ten years earlier had helped diminish the significance of black women’s labor. In the Social Security and labor acts, in particular, Congress had inserted

“men” but not “women” and left out mention of race, thereby prioritizing male workers and setting up the pretense of colorblind laws. In the highly segregated American work force of the 1930s, exclusion of service workers and agricultural laborers automatically excluded the majority of African Americans, especially women. Consequently, these acts denied most black women the job-related benefits and protections other workers enjoyed.

They also denied them recognition as valued economic contributors who deserved these same entitlements. As a result of public policies, black women’s overall lowly economic and social status appeared a natural condition of their combination racial and sexual identities. As such, it rarely occurred to most Americans to question obvious inequalities of job opportunities and income disparities. Instead, the majority took pride in their

257 Ibid.

258 The number of professional degrees for black women did not greatly increase during World War II, perhaps due to other possibilities. “Negro Women War Workers,” 18-19. 113 ostensibly color blind state policies that, from their experiences, guaranteed opportunities for any Americans – and plenty of immigrants, too – so long as they were willing to strive hard to move up the societal ladder.

On the surface, the WAC seemed to provide a space for upward social mobility for black Wacs. All recruits entered on an equal footing as enlisted personnel, received identical pay, and trained for military assignments. Publically, the Army and WAC declared their commitment to equitable and fair treatment. Black Wacs wanted this opportunity to prove their abilities and provide an exit from maid jobs. They understood the hard work and value of their forebears who had, with great dignity, labored as domestics. Many of the Wacs had also engaged in this line of work before enlisting.

Nevertheless, its low pay, lack of benefits, health risks, and exclusion from public policies marked it a job with no future. On the surface, the WAC offered a stepping stone to a real future.

Upon arriving at Ft. Des Moines, black Wacs immediately learned how segregation impeded their plans, and they responded by falling back on their legacy of resistance and collective action. At Ft. Des Moines, they could rely on hundreds of other black women. Referring to one Wac’s 1945 assessment of the induction center, former

Wac Martha Putney concluded that “more than a few who were at Fort Des Moines would probably agree with the black enlisted woman who said that she found conditions there ‘pretty fair’ when compared with other camps at which she subsequently was

114 stationed.259 After their transfer to Ft. Devens, Alice Young, Johnnie Murphy, Anna

Morrison, and Mary Green were undoubtedly among them.

While still at Ft. Des Moines, however, having completed basic training months earlier and watching an Iowa summer turn into an Iowa fall, they were eager to move on to their next posts. They were ready to train, work, and meaningfully contribute to the

Army’s mission to win the war. As October rolled in, they were still waiting at Ft. Des

Moines, and would continue to wait until the Army could figure out what to do with its black female troops.

259 Putney, When the Nation Was In Need, 27.

115 Chapter 3. The Problems of Placing Black Wacs

“I don’t have any idea where to move them.”260

After completing basic training in the summer of 1944, Johnnie Murphy, Mary

Green, Alice Young, and Anna Morrison waited for transfers from Ft. Des Moines to their first duty stations. By then, successive classes of white Wacs also completed basic training, and then quickly dispersed to advanced training and Army assignments in the

United States and abroad. In the black section of the induction center, new recruits vied for space with those awaiting assignments, their bank of options further curtailed by

WAC Director Colonel Oveta Culp Hobby’s ban on black Wacs for overseas duty.

According to Morrison, after the six-week basic course, her contingent did “nothing” except detail where “you would go on the post and clean up different classrooms.” The

WAC did not provide additional training or special classes to equip the women with skills that the Army so desperately needed. Instead, Morrison recalled, “We had lectures on

Russia and saw films that we had seen time and time again. I mean it was all the same thing.”261 Morrison, Green, Young, and Murphy remained at Ft. Des Moines until

October, four months after their arrival. Evidently, the severe troop shortages that

260 “Telephone conversation between Colonel Whitehurst – Surgeon General – Washington and Cpt. Sisson,” 7 March 7 1945, included in the War Department Investigation of the Ft. Devens WAC strike, NA.

261 Anna Morrison, interview, “War Department Investigation, 13.

116 encouraged officers to overcome their qualms over requisitioning white Wacs in did not apply to black Wacs.

By early 1944, Army officers were acutely aware of the nation’s military personnel shortages. As the War Department deployed large numbers of troops overseas, it notified stateside commanders to use civilians and Wacs as replacements.262 A March 9 memorandum clarified the order: Due to the additional “serious shortage of WAC personnel,” officers were to reserve all military personnel, male and female, for military duties alone rather than place them into jobs civilians could do.263 Requisitioning Wacs had once been a choice. It now became a necessary survival tactic for commanders struggling to maintain sufficient troop levels for their operations.

These announcements prompted an about-face among officers throughout 1944.

Those who had previously dismissed women in uniform suddenly sent in requisitions for them. That spring, commands in the Pacific Theater requested 10,000 Wacs. The Army

Medical Department called for five times that number, anticipating that, "with the expansion of hospitals and the withdrawal of enlisted men, there will be an urgent need for at least 50,000 additional Wacs to work in medical installations.”264 The Army’s

European command calculated a far more manageable, and oddly precise, quota of 6,215

Wacs, yet this would soon prove inadequate. On June 6, 1944 – D-Day – the Allies

262 The War Department also recommended using men “unqualified” for overseas duty due to injury, age (over 35 years old) or those with less than a year to serve. Mattie E. Treadwell, United States Army in World War II, Special Studies, The Women’s Army Corps. (Washington, D.C.: Department of the Army, 1954), 249.

263 Ibid.

264 Ibid.

117 landed on Normandy beaches where they suffered tremendous losses of combat troops.

Omaha Beach alone accounted for more than 3,000 fatalities.265 In the march onward to

Germany, the Army relied on Wacs to replace the men that they desperately needed to transfer to combat service support positions. Wacs were needed as typists, stenographers, and communication specialists.266

Weeks before D-Day, Anna Morrison and Johnny Murphy enlisted in the WAC.

Shortly afterwards, Alice Young also joined. The WAC would not send for the three until after the invasion. Such delays in activating black Wacs were common. They were also offensive to African Americans well aware of the Army’s otherwise insatiable need for personnel. Whereas the Army typically mobilized white Wacs within ten to fourteen days, it often delayed activating black Wacs for up to a month.267 If Green’s experience is any indication, D-Day temporarily rectified the situation. Green enlisted shortly after D-

Day and soon afterward had orders to report to Ft. Des Moines. Whereas Murphy had waited nearly a month for her active duty orders, Green arrived at Ft. Des Moines just six days after her enlistment.268 By the end of June, Murphy, Morrison, Young, and Green

265 Peter Mansoor, The GI Offensive in Europe: The Triumph of American Infantry Divisions, 1941-1945. (Lawrence, KS: University of Kansas, 1999), 140.

266 Treadwell, Women’s Army Corps, 384; also see the History of the WAC Detachment, 9th Air Division, September, 1942 to September, 1945 (Harrisburg, PA: Military Service Pub., 1946), 46- 47.

267 Putney, When the Nation Was in Need, 34; 40-41.

268 Murphy enlisted on 25 May 25 1944 and arrived at Ft. Des Moines on 20 June; Mary Green enlisted on 22 June 1944 and arrived at Ft. Des Moines on 28 June. National Personnel Records Center, Military Personnel Records Division, St. Louis, Missouri.

118 were in basic training, just four of 260 African American women who would enlist between June and September of 1944.

By the end of September, the entire WAC strength stood at just 86,351 women, including 3,766 African Americans.269 At this critical juncture of the war, this number fell far short of the personnel needed to supplement and replenish the ranks. Furthermore,

WAC recruiting had leveled off the year before to just 4,000 new recruits a month. With so few women in uniform, the WAC could not possibly accommodate all of its requests.270 On the eve of D-Day, for example, just 3,687 Wacs were stationed in Europe, slightly more than the number of men lost on Omaha Beach. As the war entered this next phase of operations, far more Wacs were needed in Europe, the Pacific, and on stateside posts. The severity of the troop shortages, the lackluster results of the WAC’s aggressive recruiting campaign, and the allies’ heavy losses during their push into Germany put the

WAC leadership under enormous pressure to produce more troops. All the while, the

WAC section of Ft. Des Moines overflowed with surplus black personnel.

The standard personnel procurement procedures of the period greatly hindered the placement of black Wacs. Transfers required initial requests from post and field commanders. Since 1942, black WAC officer Harriet West had worked diligently to solicit useful assignments for them, yet two years later, she was still managing commanders’ requests for orderlies and laundresses. By then, West had loosened job

269 Treadwell, Women’s Army Corps, 239; 777.

270 A total of 3743 women joined the WAC in September of 1944, Treadwell, Women’s Army Corps, 239; 777.

119 descriptions to include duties just steps away from those of laundresses, such as sorting and bundling clothes, yet even these creative interpretations did little to alleviate the crowded conditions at Ft. Des Moines. The WAC leadership fretted over the situation.

“What assurance is there that there will be a market for our product?” asked a white

WAC officer in April of 1943.271 A month later, West was hard-pressed to provide any such assurances. “It appears that the major problem to be solved is where Negro WAACs can be assigned.”272

Meanwhile, the Army campaign for military medical personnel was ramping in high gear. Still at the WAC induction center in early October, the black Wacs would have undoubtedly noticed an article in the Des Moines’ Morning Register newspaper announcing, “More Wacs are Needed in Medical Department.” Repeating the Army’s

Medical Department’s desired goal of 50,000 Wacs, the article urgently declared, “Any recruit … may request assignment as a medical WAC whether or not she has had previous medical experience.” Furthermore, it assured potential candidates that “those qualified will be sent directly to medical units, while others will receive training in army schools for medical technicians.”273

271 3rd Officer Delores Christy, WAAC to Chief, Planning Service, WAAC, 8 April 1943. RG 165, Stack 390, Row 31, Comp 08, Shelf 03, Entry 55, Box 21, NA.

272 Ibid., “Report on Assignment of Negro WAACs Grades IV and V,” from Harriet West to Colonel Clark, Operating Services, 21 April 1943.

273 Morning Register, Sun Sac City, Iowa, 5 October 1944, part of the State historical Society of Iowa, Iowa City collection, World War II Iowa Press Clippings, http://digital.lib.uiowa.edu/cdm/singleitem/collection/wwii/id/4992/rec/1.

120 However desperate the Army was for more medical personnel, it was not willing to tap into its black Wac recruits eager for assignment. Another two weeks would pass before approximately a hundred of these women, still biding their time at Ft. Des Moines, would finally receive orders for their new assignments. They would not be for medical technician training or positions.

During this fall of 1944, the two black WAC companies at Ft. Des Moines were so crowded that they became media fodder for civil rights activists and an embarrassment to the Army.274 Clearly, the situation had grown to practical and politically unsustainable proportions for the Army. At this point, the Commanding General of the Armed Service

Forces took the matter in hand. In September of 1944, he contacted Sherman Miles, the

Commanding General of the First Service Command, headquartered in Boston,

Massachusetts, with an order to requisition some of Ft. Des Moines’ surplus African

American Wacs.275 As Miles considered where to place the women, three pragmatic considerations undoubtedly cast his attention to Ft. Devens as a likely location. First, the post had previously, if briefly, hosted a WAC training facility that had included black recruits. Second, it had two military hospitals that could accommodate large numbers of

WAC personnel within various feminine-appropriate duties of patient care. Indeed, that past January, the first Wacs since the dismantling of the WAC induction and training

274 A 1943 memo on the difficulty of placing black Wacs evokes the Army’s and WAC’s common response to complaints by civil rights leader: “It is further believed that regardless of any final solution of the problem of assigning Negro enrollees, criticisms will be made by individuals who desire to keep the public mind disturbed.” From Major Geo. F. Martin to the Director, “Enrollment and Assignment of Negro Personnel,” 24 May 1943, RG 165, Stack 390, Row 31, Comp 08, Shelf 03, Entry 55, Box 21, NA.

275 Treadwell, Women’s Army Corps, 593.

121 center had arrived at Ft. Devens to staff the two hospitals. Since then, the Army had augmented its original WAC quota of 100 to 250 female personnel. Lastly, Ft. Devens was a massive post – an unspoken prerequisite for black Wac assignments. Army regulations insisting on widespread physical separation due to their race (“essentially a separate camp”) and gender (“at least 150 feet from men’s barracks”) were possible at a post strewn over 10,000 acres plus and another 235,000 leased acres used for field training.276 All in all, the northern base offered an ideal site. Once chosen, Miles’ chief- of-staff telephoned Colonel Walter M. Crandall, the Commanding Officer of Lovell

Hospital, with an order to requisition 120 black servicewomen.277

Crandall strongly resisted the order to accommodate black Wacs. Initially, he claimed that he “didn’t have quarters available for them.”278 When told to make room for them by releasing the same number of white Wacs for reassignment to other posts,

Crandall cited another concern. “There were at the time about ten thousand colored men at the post, and I figured we would have a little headache with social problems.” It took several more phone calls to convince Crandall that the order would stand. At that point, the veteran officer declared with patriotic resolve, “we could take as many headaches as

276 Housing dictates as noted in Lee, Employment of Negro Troops, 98-100, and in Treadwell, History of the WAC, 515. Essentially, these standards called for isolating black soldiers on the outskirts of bases while safeguarding Wacs in or near headquarters; thereby, they led to contradictory aims when the Army attempted to apply these standards to black Wacs; History: Edith Nourse Rogers – Ft. Devens Museum, “Fort Devens during World War II,” www.fortdevensmuseum.org/EdithNourseRogers.php, accessed 3 February 2013.

277 On 18 September 1944, the Commanding General of the Army Service Forces issued the order to the First Service Commander, who duly passed it on to Colonel Crandall of Lovell Hospital. Summary, War Department Investigation, 4.

278 Colonel Walter M. Crandall, interview, 19 April 1945, War Department Investigation.

122 necessary because we had to win the war,” and proceeded to request the black Wac personnel.279

Crandall did not have leeway on the race, sex, or number of his newest personnel requisition, yet he did have full control over the jobs, or Military Occupation Specialties

(MOS) of these new troops foisted upon him. Crandall ordered three cadre (company personnel), ten drivers, and twenty cooks. The bulk of his requests consisted of medical aidmen, or orderlies. He requested no specialists, technicians, or clerks.280 Consequently, of the 120 positions Crandall had to fill, 87 were orderlies assigned to keeping the hospital clean and the patients fed.281 The order passed over the desk of the First Service

Command’s WAC Director in Boston, Major Elizabeth Stearns, who approved it despite the overload of orderlies and absence of technicians.282 Ft. Des Moines responded to the request by sending Crandall “basics,” or personnel with no special skills beyond basic training. Troops under the MOS could be used in any low skilled capacity authorized by the WAC.283

Most of the women arrived at Ft. Devens in the latter part of October and were assigned to the convalescence unit at Lovell Hospital South. By then, Crandall had

279 Ibid.

280 Ibid.

281 Ibid. Summary, 4.

282 Ibid., Director of WAC Maj. Elizabeth W. Stearns, First Service Command, interview, 16 April 1945, 292.

283 Ibid. Summary. In January, the Army changed their classification from the MOS of Basics (521) to Aidmen (657) to better reflect the work they were doing.

123 transferred most of the white Wacs who had served at this location to Lovell Hospital

North and to their new living quarters in its nearby barracks. He also had marked 88 white Wacs, including 39 orderlies, for reassignment to other posts.284 A few remained behind to train their replacements. Soon, they, too, vacated their positions as Green,

Murphy, Morrison, Young and the others in their detachment took over as orderlies. The new arrivals settled into their jobs, washing dishes, cleaning windows, dusting furniture, and performing other such chores. Initially, they accepted these basic tasks as integral features of patient care, and their jobs as the “newbies.” They attended to their work and waited for the advanced training they expected and for other assignments to open up. As

Young stated at her court-martial, “I didn’t mind doing the work as long as it would help me to get where I wanted.”285

During those first few months, the women’s superiors and co-workers heard few complaints from the new arrivals who demonstrated a positive attitude in performing their duties.286 Orderly work was not what the women had expected when they enlisted, but given the white Wacs’ experiences at Ft. Devens, it was presumably only temporary.

Meanwhile, they could enjoy their new home. Ft. Devens was not, after all, a wholly unsatisfactory location for young African American women during World War II.

284 Ibid. Summary. 4. In addition to the 39 aidmen or orderlies, Crandall released “3 cadre, 11 clerical, 10 hospital technicians…15 drivers, 5 mess personnel, and 5 miscellaneous.”

285 Alice Young, testimony, “United States v. Young et al., CM 278502, 19 March 1945, Ft. Devens, MA, Army Judiciary, Department of the Army, Washington, D.C., 208.

286 Summary, War Department Investigation.

124 Established as Camp Devens in 1917, the site was elevated by the War

Department to a permanent fort in 1932 due to the efforts of the indomitable

Congresswomen Edith Nourse Rogers, a decade before her campaign for the WAAC bill.

A resident of nearby Lovell, Rogers had long encouraged Ft. Devens’ development so that by World War II, it was well-positioned to serve as a site for essential operations. In the early 1940s, the post served as the central processing center for New England and, for a short time, as a WAAC induction center.287 Ft. Devens hosted numerous schools, including training centers for cooks, drivers, chaplains, and infantry troops. It could also boast a new airport and two hospitals, each a large, modern facility that offered care for patients and training for medical personnel, including medical technicians and nurse cadets. To accommodate the hundreds of thousands of personnel who passed through its gates and the 5,000 German and Italian prisoners-of-war it confined, the Army supplemented the existing structures with 1,200 newly-constructed wooden barracks. By

January 1944, Wacs (all white) returned to Ft. Devens to staff its hospitals. In July,

Lovell General Hospital and New Station Hospital merged in order to efficiently manage the wounded soldiers flowing in from overseas. Thereafter, they were known as Lovell

Hospital South and Lovell Hospital North. By the fall of 1944, this once remote camp an hour’s drive west of Boston had grown to a large and bustling base. In October, the arrival of black Wacs would render Ft. Devens one of the Army’s most diverse posts as well.

287 As the 4th WAC Training Center, Fort Devens operated from November 1942 to September 1943, History: Edith Nourse Rogers – Ft. Devens Museum. 125 The women did not lack for things to do when off-duty. On base, they could make use of the swimming pools and attend USO movies, parties, and lectures. Ft. Devens also sported a skating rink and a bowling alley, open to all service personnel, and several service clubs, including one designated specifically for enlisted black Wacs and soldiers to meet and socialize.288 Occasionally, soldiers of the all-black 372nd Infantry Regiment invited the Wacs to their functions. Off-base, Boston proved a major draw, and the women could catch a bus to the vibrant metropolitan center on one of its hourly runs.

Local black communities in Ayer, Shirley, Lowell, Worchester, and other neighboring towns welcomed the women to community events, church services, and home-cooked meals in private residences. Twelve-hour work days with just one day off a week kept the

Wacs close to the hospital, yet by all accounts, the women were pleased with their environs at Ft. Devens and initially adapted well to their new post at Ft. Devens.289

As the weeks and months passed without any indication of forthcoming changes in their mundane duties, the Wacs’ initially positive attitudes began to unravel. Unlike their white counterparts who worked at more choice assignments, they seemed permanently exiled to scrubbing floors at the hospital. The women also found other inconsistencies jarring. For instance, white Wacs did not have KP (Kitchen Police) duty, a traditionally unpopular, labor-intensive, best-avoided GI job. White Wacs had pulled

288 The main service club for African Americans had burned down in January or February, and a large replacement club was due to open in mid-April of 1945. Pvt. Elsie L. Williams, interview, 9 April 1945, War Department Investigation.

289 The twelve-hour work days included three hours off and two later in the afternoon. Summary, War Department Investigation, 4.

126 KP duty when they had lived at the south location. Once transferred to Lovell Hospital

North, however, their nearest mess hired civilians for kitchen work, thereby freeing them from the task. Consequently, only black Wacs at Ft. Devens were on the KP roster.290

Their officers marked down the matter as happenstance, yet it profoundly upset the members of the black detachment. They did not pull this duty often, so it wasn’t the work that bothered them, but the suspected reasons behind the flow of menial work to them alone.

During the darkest days of the Massachusetts’s winter, the reality of the women’s situation slowly sank in, and it hit them hard. They had enlisted based on Army and

WAC guarantees that they would have the same opportunities as white Wacs for advanced training and skilled work. Instead, their jobs stood apart from other military jobs. They did not even dress like Wacs. Orderlies did not wear the usual uniform, but blue smocks to indicate their general housekeeping role in the hospital.291 One woman complained to her white company officer, Lt. Victoria A. Lawson, that she had not “come into the army to scrub floors.”292 It was a common complaint among black Wacs, and not only at Ft. Devens.

290 Ibid., 21.

291 The blue uniforms were retired nurse uniforms that the Army had declared surplus. Treadwell explains that once the WAC learned that these were available at no cost, it dispensed them to hospital workers. The blue cotton dress was not popular among the Ft. Devens Wacs since its look was “outmoded,” it did not come in many sizes, and it was also worn by civilian hospital workers, too. Treadwell, The Women’s Army Corps, 536-537.

292 1Lt. Victoria Lawson interview, 6 April 1945, War Department Investigation.

127 Whether as orderlies, KP workers, or in other roles that consisted mainly of menial duties, most black Wacs during World War II labored in low-skilled jobs that were often physically demanding. At Ft. Knox, Kentucky they were assigned to permanent KP. At Camp Breckenridge, Kentucky, graduates of administration school were found sweeping warehouses. Suspiciously, the commander of Camp Rucker,

Alabama requested only black Wacs from the South.293 Anxious to relieve the surplus, the WAC conceded to the request. Suspicions were later proved accurate. The commander had assigned the lowest ranking of his requisition of black Wacs to general housekeeping in the nurse’s quarters.294 Such assignments afforded few opportunities to acquire advanced skills, gain promotions, or bolster morale. Instead they fostered resentment. In a letter to Mrs. Roosevelt, a woman stationed at Ft. Clark, Texas complained of the Army’s treatment of black Wacs: “The strain under which we work is almost defeating in itself. Our ratings are frozen, our files of varied training is limited, our jobs here are limited and our assignments equally so. We are all very willing though to offer our services for the causes of ‘Why we fight.’”295

Alice Young’s experience illustrates the obstacles black Wacs encountered as they attempted to break out of the pattern of servant work and map out a different career

293 At least one other southern post sent a similar requisition. According to Putney, the records are unclear on whether the WAC complied with this request. Putney, When the Nation Was in Need, 75.

294 Putney, When the Nation Was in Need, 80-96.

295 Ft. Clark, TX servicewoman to Mrs. Roosevelt who forwarded the letter to Colonel Hobby on 2 May 1943, omitting the author’s name. RG 165, Stack 390, Row 31, Comp 4, Shelf 03-4, Entry 54, Box 49, folder 291.2, NA.

128 path. Young had joined the WAC to train and serve as a medical technician. After basic training, the Army classified her as a “Basic,” indicating that she did not have Army skills and could be used where needed. It sent her to Ft. Devens as part of the group

Crandall requisitioned to work as an orderly. Given her assignment to a hospital, she had reason to assume that she would have the opportunity to work as a medical technician.

Besides her recruiters’ confidence that she would be trained in this field, her officers at

Ft. Des Moines had suggested the same. She also had a year of nurses’ training and endorsements from two officers at Lovell Hospital South.296 More importantly, the Army

Medical Department, desperate to replace the 5,000 soldiers the War Department had removed from its operations for transfer to overseas infantry units, had been publicizing since early 1944 its urgent need for military personnel. (This transfer, and undoubtedly the upcoming Normandy invasion, had first sparked its call for 50,000 Wacs.297)

Furthermore, just two months before the Ft. Devens strike, the War Department reiterated its need for medical personnel, reminding commanders that “it is desired that every effort be made to recruit a maximum number of female technicians for the medical department.”298 Young was the perfect candidate for the job. She had ambitions for a nursing career and experience at a training hospital. She was also already in the WAC and stationed at a military hospital.

296 Alice Young, testimony, General Court-Martial, U.S. Army v. Young,” 198-208.

297 Treadwell, Women’s Army Corps, 340.

298 “Subject: Recruiting for Army General Hospital Companies (WAC), from the Adjutant General’s Office to Commanding Generals, Each Service Command and MDW, 13 January 1946, RG 165, Stack 390, Row 31, Comp 6-8, Shelf 7-3, Entry 55 Historical Materials of WAC/WAAC 1942-46, Box, 189, NA.

129 Young’s optimism abruptly ended during a brief encounter with Colonel Crandall in December 1944. When visiting the ward where she was working, Crandall noticed her taking a patient’s temperature. Without speaking to her directly, he announced to the nurse in charge, and for all present to hear, that the hospital didn’t “have colored Wacs as medical technicians.” He then added, according to Young, “They are here to scrub and wash floors, wash dishes and do all the dirty work.” 299 Crandall’s version differed in that he reminded the nurse that taking temperatures “was not their purpose,” especially when,

“the ward work is not done.” 300 Crandall seems to have realized that he had crossed a line as, later that afternoon, he visited Lt. Sophie Gay, the black detachment’s company commander, in her office to apologize for possible misinterpretations of his remarks.301

At the moment of his remarks, however, Young, standing next to a patient with a thermometer in hand, was mortified. Crandall had publically humiliated her, her detachment, and her race. In that moment, he had also dashed her plans for the advanced medical training that had spurred her enlistment. It was a bitter lesson. Officers assumed, she later said, that “because we were colored … we didn’t measure up to their

299 Alice Young, interview, War Department Investigation, 200; another black Wac, Pvt. Amanda McCord also witnessed the incident which she described in, “Investigation of SCU 1127, WAC Detachment, Lovell General Hospital, Ft. Devens, Mass,” to Commanding general, First Service Command, March 14, 1945, hereafter, “March 14, 1945 Investigation. Investigation included in War Department Investigations, Exhibit C.

300 Ibid. Crandall, interview, 14 March 1945, 6.

301 Ibid., 2; Young returned to the barracks, where Lt. Stoney encountered her crying outside. She suggested that Young discuss her concerns in Lt. Gay’s office and, shortly afterwards, Young reported the incident to her detachment commanders, Lt. Tenola. See Stoney, interview, 6 April 1945, 8.

130 qualifications.”302 Crandall’s treatment of the black women gives substance to Young’s analysis.

Born and raised in Maine, Crandall joined the Army in 1917. He served for short periods at Ft. Sill, Oklahoma and on a Texas base near San Antonio before his seven year assignment in Panama. Regarding his experiences there, he later confided, “Of course, the Panama colored race are English subjects and quite different from ours.” For the next nine years, Crandall worked with the Army Air Corps where he was in charge of small dispensaries with a maximum patient capacity of twenty to thirty patients. On January 3,

1943, he took over as commanding officer of Lovell General Hospital. A somewhat abrupt and at times inappropriately sarcastic man, he seemed to some colleagues uninterested in the administrative details of running large hospitals. 303 To the black Wacs of his command, he seemed equally uninterested in any administrative duties that involved them. As 2Lt. Stoney concluded, “I don’t think he cared so much for the ward orderlies.304

Crandall’s disinterest in the black WAC Detachment greatly disadvantaged the black women under his command. He had not organized a formal orientation program for them. Months later, he was aware if his staff had taken the initiative to do so beyond introducing them to orderly detail.305 Consequently, the new contingent began their

302 Ibid. Young, interview, 200.

303 Ibid. Summary, 33-34.

304 Ibid. Lt. Tenola Stoney, interview, 7.

305 Crandall claimed that the orientation officer provided the Wacs with lectures about the hospital and their duties. Crandall, interview, 3.

131 assignments without guidance on their specific duties, an understanding of their commanding officer’s expectations, information regarding the hospital’s upcoming training courses, or an introduction to their chain of command at Ft. Devens. Five months later, some of the women claimed that they had never met Crandall and were not sure what he looked like. An investigating officer inquiring into the senior officers’ relationship with the Wacs asked Crandall if he had ever approached “a colored Wac and ask her how she was getting along and how she liked her work.” Crandall replied, “No, I don’t recall that I did.” He did remember, however, trying to greet them in the corridors.

The attempt was unsuccessful since “rarely did any of them salute and usually they turned their faces another way and gave me no opportunity to pass the time of the day with them.”306 Meanwhile, according to a ward nurse, Crandall had warned his kitchen staff, “Don’t let those niggers serve that food.”307

Clearly, by Christmas, tensions were on edge. In December, the black Wacs at Ft.

Devens were openly expressing their concerns that Crandall considered them incompetent, unintelligent, and unfit for work beyond keeping the wards clean. Crandall, however, seemed above the fray. He continued to occasionally dine in the mess hall with the women’s detachment commander and other officers, where he would remark on the soup: “it was black bean soup because the black Wacs cooked it.” 308

306 Ibid. Crandall, interview, 412.

307 Alice Young interview, “May 1945 Investigation.” Also see Willie May Miller and Amanda McCord interviews.

308 Ibid. Stoney, interview, 7. Stoney responded, “I wouldn’t want to comment on that, Colonel.”

132 Crandall’s reaction to his new recruits and his racial comments may have been somewhat clumsier than others in similar positions, yet his reservations over having black women in his command were widely shared with other officers, and for practical reasons.

Black Wacs did pose problems for post commanders. Under military policies, their combined race and gender presented a cumbersome list of additional planning and organizing requirements. Given WAC concerns over black Wacs morals and the difficulty of finding segregated accommodations and appropriate assignments that met

Army regulations, commanders had little reason to welcome a large unit of black Wacs.

The Slander Campaign of 1943, and the months the leadership devoted to clearing the reputation of its troops, gives insight into sexual innuendoes that attached themselves to women in the military – and to the threat even unsubstantiated rumors posed to the integrity of women and the women’s corps. Servicemen and civilians consistently questioned the moral behavior of those who enlisted. Whereas white Americans were likely to worry about the virtue of their innocent young white females, many regarded black women as promiscuous by nature. As Crandall had put it when trying to avoid having black Wacs assigned to him, black men and women on the same base could lead to “social problems.” 309

Doubts about African Americans’ moral character ran deep among the white officer corps and up to its highest levels. In a 1944 telephone conversation with President

Roosevelt’s civilian race relations coordinator, Jonathan Daniels, Colonel Hobby proudly

309 Accounts by young white Wacs reveal a continuous flow of male admirers. By contrast, black women, particularly officers who were naturally fewer in number on any base, spoke of their loneliness.

133 described how she kept eight black female officers from mixing with men at Ft.

Oglethorpe, Georgia. By ensuring the reassignment of its male black officers to other posts, only black enlisted soldiers remained. Since the Army prohibited socializing between officers and enlisted personnel, these women had no officially-condoned male companions on base. Hobby then reminded Daniels that while officer clubs were often mixed-sex, they were open to the opposite sex by invitation only. Hobby was confident that given the mixed-race taboo, white male officers would not risk inviting black female officers to their club. In this way, Hobby distanced the women from all non-work relationships with servicemen, black and white, on base. Clearly impressed, Daniels praised her clever machinations by declaring, “No wonder they made you colonel.”310

Hobby’s doubts over the propriety of black Wacs proved the women’s greatest obstacle to serving overseas. The European Theatre of Operations (ETO) had as early as

1943 requested black Wacs, stating that in a time of emergency “it is the privilege of all

American citizens regardless of race or sex to serving in the Armed Forces.” 311 Hobby squelched the plan, citing her reluctance to see the women “scattered in uncontrolled field units near male Negro troops.” In contrast, her concerns over sending white Wacs abroad during the same period rested on the lack of hazard benefits they would be accorded as

Waacs.312 With those issues settled, Hobby transferred to Europe nearly 570 white Waacs

310 “Telephone conversation between Col. Hobby and Mr. Jonathan Daniels,” November 1944, RG 165, Stack 390, Row 31, Comp 4, Shelf 03-4, Entry 54, Box 39, NA.

311 Treadwell, Women’s Army Corps, 599.

312 As auxiliary members, they were not entitled to the same benefits of male soldiers, including “extra overseas pay, government life insurance, or veteran’s hospitalization,” Moore, To Serve My Country, 82.

134 in July 1943.313 She would not send black Wacs abroad until January 1945, and then only after intensive lobbying by civil rights leaders.314 Addressing the WAC’s concerns over black women’s morality many years later, Elaine Bennett, sergeant major of the 6888th

Postal Battalion that served overseas, recalled that her unit had no more than five pregnancies among the 250 women in the battalion over their fourteen months abroad.315

(The overall pregnancy rate in Europe was also very low, averaging just three out of

6,000 women a month.316)

Presumption of African American women’s loose morals also complicated housing issues. Indeed, Crandall attempted to fend off Miles’ order to requisition black

Wacs by arguing that he did not have anywhere to house them. It was a view Hobby and her male counterparts could appreciate. Whether due to personal biases or military directives, they, too, seemed unable to countenance African American women living with or near white Wacs.317 Accordingly, commanders had to secure separate barracks for black Wacs. This also proved difficult because distrust of black men, too, required that they ensure a physical distance between black Wacs and black soldiers. Then there were

313 Treadwell, Women’s Army Corps, 381. 314 For a comprehensive study and analysis of the 6888th Postal Battalion, the first and only black Wacs to serve overseas during World War II see Brenda Moore’s To Serve My Country.

315 Moore, To Serve My Country, 142.

316 Treadwell, Women’s Army Corps, 398.

317 Extreme circumstances sometimes, though rarely, led to exceptions. During World War II, WAC officers trained together. These mixed-races training sessions occasionally led to shared housing -- though segregated rooms – and were highly controversial. Bettie J. Morden, Army Historical Series, The Women’s Army Corps, 1945-1978 (Washington D.C: Center of Military History, 1990), 16-17.

135 the citizens of the local communities who occasionally assumed an interest, and a say, in the matter. Satisfying all of these criteria and concerns could prove a logistical nightmare for officers as the case at Gardiner Hospital in Illinois illustrates.

In April 1945, a group of Chicago residents near Gardiner Hospital expressed their concerns over the impending arrival of black Wacs. Organizing themselves into a formidable committee to stop the transfer, angry citizens petitioned a number of government offices, from their local city council to the War Department in Washington,

D.C., to halt the transfer. When these actions failed, they complained to the post commander that the barracks being built for the new unit was, among other things, so close to the white bathing beach that the black Wacs on base might be tempted to swim there. They also worried that black women would “attract Negro men,” whose presence could lead to incidents of racial violence.318 The committee argued for the construction of

WAC barracks further north than the Army’s plan so that it would be nearer the black community – and, more importantly, further from the white community. The Army would keep its original plan, yet its design reflected a highly precautionary formula. The black WAC barracks were to be located “800 feet from the nearest apartment building; bounded on the rear by a series of railroad tracks … enclosed within a strong fence; entrance will be through a gate which will be continually guarded.”319

318 “Report on Protest of the Assignment of Negro Wacs to the Gardner General Hospital, Chicago, Illinois,” 6 April 1945, RG 165, Stack 390, Row 31, Comp 4, Shelf 03-04, NA.

319 Report, Major General Russell B. Reynolds to Commanding General, Army Service Forces, “Situation Created by Assigning a WAC Company (Colored) at Gardiner General Hospital, Chicago, Illinois,” April 16, 1945, RG 165, Stack 390, Row 31, Comp 4, Shelf 03-4, Entry 54, Box 49, Folder 291.2, NA.

136 In addition to the issue of accommodations, military policies tossed commanders of black Wacs into tedious tinkering of mess and recreation schedules in order to avoid any suggestion of integration.320 Officers knew this was a line best not crossed with white soldiers who were well within their rights to complain of segregation policy violations.

One soldier wrote his congressman that he and his unit were “being forced to eat in the same mess hall with Negro troops,” and detailed how “they take their silverware out of the same boxes as we do and in doing so touch the rest of the silverware in the boxes that we have to use also.”321 The southern press ran stories chiding the WAC for allowing their “fine and virtuous white ladies” to eat, work, and live with black women.322 In one potentially volatile case, Hobby responded to a prominent southern man who wrote of disconcerting rumors of racial intermingling at Ft. Des Moines. She explained that the

WAC segregated as much as possible. “I am certain that such occurrences as you mention are infrequent,” she assured him, “and when they do happen are temporary and practically unavoidable.”323 Once black Wacs arrived on a post, their receiving officers

320 Keeping white soldiers separate from black soldiers was not just preferable, but demanded by many white Americans, especially those from the southern states where Jim Crow laws were still in force, Russell Buchanan, Black Americans in World War II (Santa Barbara, CA: Clio Books, 1977), 1-3.

321 Letter to Congressman J. Edgar Chenoweth, 2 January 1945,” RG 407, Shelf 270, Row 21, Comp 21, Shelf 3-5, Entry 363, Folder 291.2, Box 1062, NA, also see Jack D. Foner, Blacks and the Military in American History: A New Perspective (New York: Praeger Publishers, 1974), 147- 148.

322 Putney, When the Nation Was In Need, 10.

323 The complaint originated from a white woman from Louisiana who, distraught to think she had misled her friends by encouraging them to enlist in a WAC not fully segregated; a wealthy Shreveport resident heard of her distress and contacted Colonel Hobby. Moore, To Serve My Country, 72-73.

137 had to give careful consideration to the women’s timetables and accommodations as well as those of other troops to avoid such time-consuming complaints.

Job assignments were by far the most explosive issue commanders faced with black Wacs due to their importance to morale. WAC units, white and black, accepted just about any conditions in good spirits so long as its members felt meaningfully employed.

White Wacs in Europe, for instance, recalled the period after D-Day, when they trudged behind combat troops in the same primitive and grueling conditions (though, importantly, in the relative security of the rear), as the “happiest” of their military careers.324 Likewise, the members of the all-black 6888th Postal Battalion lived and worked in less than ideal conditions, and yet most recalled that their morale was at its highest when they were exhaustingly employed in their important job.325 In both cases, the women had the opportunity to prove their value to the war effort, and officers took note, bestowing them with praise and promotions. On the other hand, menial assignments with no chance of promotion or acknowledgement by superior officers of their significance provoked discontent and often led to disciplinary problems. To be sure, many white Wacs also felt that the Army did not effectively use their skills, yet they did not experience the wholesale low-skilled, routine assignments so familiar to black Wacs.

Even officers open to giving black Wacs a fair shake at responsible positions would have had their doubts given these troops’ overall poor performance on the Army

324 Treadwell, Women’s Army Corps, 389.

325 According to Historian Brenda Moore, the acceptance of the English and the French, who invited them into their homes and treated them with respect, “was also central to their morale.” Moore, To Serve My Country, 141.

138 General Classification Tests (AGCT).326 One study, conducted in May of 1943, examined the scores of 2,800 Wacs, half black and half white. The results showcased an immense gap, with 66 percent of the black women testing into the lowest categories of IV and V compared to just 15 percent of white women. Upper range scores also revealed an imbalance, with just 6 percent of black and 15 percent of white Wacs placing in the top I and II categories.327 Even as the Army and the WAC suffered severe troop shortages, they refused to utilize black Wacs, regarding their extremely low AGCT scores as conclusive confirmation of intellectual inferiority rather than a reflection of their inferior educational opportunities. The widespread acceptance of the test as an objective determinate of ability handily justified the relegation of the majority of black Wacs to unskilled jobs rather than specialized duties. More to the point, however, most Army commanders refused to accept even those black Wacs who scored in the highest two mental categories, a clear indication that accusations of mental inferiority were a smokescreen to conceal the real reason for the unwillingness to accept black Wacs – racism.

Poor scores not only effectively blocked many women from positions the Army urgently needed to fill, they also marked this category of personnel as dregs on the military. After the war, Treadwell recounted the WAC leadership’s frustration with surplus Wacs, whom she defined as black and white, though far more African Americans

326 Putney, When the Nation Was In Need, 74.

327 Treadwell, The Women’s Army Corps, 593; also note a study conducted in 1943 of male soldiers’ AGCT results in which 20 percent of African American and 74 percent of white men scored into Army grade categories I, II, and III, Army Service Forces Manual M5, “Leadership and the Negro Soldier” (Washington: United States Government Printing Office, 1944), 30.

139 than whites fit in this category. Explaining why they could not be placed, she offered,

“The women obviously were useless for all except the most simple and repetitious duties in factories or the home.” In a cool back-handed compliment, she concluded, “to enlist them was not only to deprive industry of needed factory workers but also to burden the army’s military manpower allotment with women who could not carry their share of the work.”328

As part of the post-trial investigation of the strike, the Army retested all of the

Wacs stationed at Ft. Devens to determine the validity of black Wacs’ complaints that they had been mis-assigned. According to the study’s findings, “80 percent of the white enlisted women had AGCT scores of 90 percent or above as compared with only 11 percent of the Negro enlisted women.” The test apparently also measured character since, reportedly, “the more intelligent women disliked to associate with those individuals because of the different standard under which they preferred to live.”329 (See Table 1.)

328 In this case, Treadwell was referring to the approximately thousand un-assignable Waacs in March of 1943, “half of whom,” she clarified, “were white and half Negro.” Since the WAAC consisted of just 5.7 percent of African Americans at the time, her example references the pervasive understanding among military personnel at the time that far more black than white Wacs were of little benefit to the Army. Treadwell, Women’s Army Corps, 175.

329 War Department Investigation, 30-31.

140 Classes I II III* IV V (130 and (110-129) (90-109) (70-89) (69 or above) below) White Wacs (drawn from March 9, 4% 33% 43% 17% 3% 1945 roster) Black Wacs (drawn from March 21, – 1% 10% 61% 28% 1945 roster) * Medical Technicians required a minimum score of 90. Table 1. Comparison of white and black Wacs' AGCT Scores, Ft. Devens, April 17, 1945 330

A review of the raw data of the study calls attention to several overlooked factors that decidedly disadvantaged the black women’s average scores. First, Crandall had mainly requested black Wac orderlies, so Wacs who had tested in Category V were most likely sent to him. Conversely, his earlier requisitions for white Wacs had been for various skilled assignments which would have indicated those within the highest categories. (A review of the final marks found that 37 percent of white Wacs compared to

1 percent of black Wacs had test scores that qualified them for Officer Candidate

School.) Second, the tests were given on April 17, 1945. By this time, the Army had transferred from Ft. Devens three of its black women with technician training, T/5

Thelma Allen, Pvt. Inez Baham, and Pvt. Harriet E. Warfield. Alice Young was also brought in to take the test. Still reeling from the court-martial, she earned just 85 percent.

It is likely that Young had earlier earned at least a 90 percent since this was the cut-off mark for the medical technician position for which she evidentially had qualified in the

330 Compiled date from the War Department Investigation, 30.

141 past. Furthermore, before her enlistment, she had graduated from high school, met

Howard University entrance requirements, and enrolled in its nursing program. Adjusting the above chart that included the compiled scores of 58 black Wacs to take into account these four potentially higher marks would have likely at least doubled the black Wac

Category III results. Third, considerable post-trial discontent and apathy apparently took its toll as two of the lowest scores, a 5 and a 0, indicate. Several women did not take the test while five, including Green, sat for the test but did not turn it in.331 Such laxity calls into question how well the Army administered and monitored the test, and how seriously the black Wacs took the exercise.

The racial gap that these scores denote, however, is so wide that even with the most favorable calculation and under the most positive conditions, it is difficult to refute the overall poor performance of African Americans on the AGCT. Had commanders been curious about the possible reasons, they needed to go no further than their own recently published Army manual, “Leadership and the Negro Soldier.” Published in October 1944, the month the women began arriving at Ft. Devens, it exclusively featured men, yet its lessons applied to women, too. For instance, the manual cited that southern states spent on average one-third less on black students than they did on white students. Referring to a survey covering the school year of 1939-1940, the authors noted that nine southern states averaged a yearly expenditure of just $18.82 for each black student compared to $58.69 for each white student. Comparatively, states nationwide spent approximately $88.09 per

331 Memorandum, Colonel Wallace S. Douglas, Director of Military Training to The Inspector General, Ft. Devens “grades obtained in test given 17 April 1945,” 19 April 1945, War Department Investigation, Exhibit G.

142 student which, in effect, gave northern recruits an edge. Inevitably, students from schools with poorly-funded and inadequate facilities were unlikely to do as well academically as those from better-financed institutions.

The Army manual also reminded officers that AGCT results measured “an enlisted man’s working level and ability to learn,” not a soldier’s intelligence.332 It therefore cautioned officers to avoid viewing AGCTs scores as I.Q. tests. Years later, former black Wac Dorothy Dailey [Jones] attributed her Category I ranking to her

Cambridge, Massachusetts education at a well-funded white school. “What they test,” she explained, “is how well you can handle middle-class education.” Much of that education revolved around literacy levels, in which Dailey, an avid reader, placed high. It wasn’t so much the questions, she noted, but how fast a person could read them.333

Despite such inconsistencies, AGCT scores validated the consensus among officers that they did not have jobs that black women could reasonably be expected to fill.

Consequently, they tired of complaints of racism, insisting that African Americans had the same access to the military as did whites, along with the same training, treatment, and availability of assignments. Consequently, officers maintained that it was not the military that precluded black Wacs’ from skilled assignments, but the women’s low AGCT scores. This overlooked, however, the fact that even those black Wacs in the AGCT categories 1-III were also often assigned to menial assignments. Treadwell, a white WAC officer during the war, expressed a commonly held view that “rejected Negro applicants

332 “Leadership and the Negro Soldier,” 30.

333 Moore, To Serve My Country, 90.

143 sometimes tended to blame discrimination rather than their own failure to pass aptitude or physical tests.”334 In a pointed evaluation of Wacs who proved difficult to place

(overwhelmingly African American), Treadwell described their deficiencies as “mental and not educational.”335

Early in the war, Secretary of War Henry L. Stimson was privately having his own doubts about the AGCT. Army policy heavily based access to the military and job assignments on these scores which greatly disadvantaged poor southern white men.

Consequently, the Army was turning away and limiting the job assignments of potentially viable white recruits whom, he felt, could prove major assets to the military if given the chance.336 In his journal entry of March 12, 1942, Stimson revealed that the “Army had adopted rigid requirements for literacy mainly to keep down the number of colored troops and this is reacting badly in preventing us from getting some very good literate [white] recruits from the southern mountain states.”337 The targets of his concerns were low scoring white southern soldiers who he assumed were otherwise quite capable. The same

334 Treadwell, The Women’s Army Corps, 592.

335 Ibid., 175.

336 Of note, one of the U.S. Army’s most decorated combat soldiers, Audie Murphy, entered the service without a high school education. He eventually earned a battlefield commission along with a Medal of Honor and other decorations for valor. Don Graham, No Name on the Bullet: A Biography of Audie Murphy (New York: Viking Press, 1989).

337 According to Philip McGuire, Stimson proposed a recruiting campaign for white southern men, thereby “The War Department was willing to actively recruit illiterate whites but unwilling to do the same for illiterate blacks.” Phillip McGuire, “Desegregation of the Armed Forces: Black Leadership, Protest and World War II,” The Journal of Negro History, Volume 68, No. 2 (Spring, 1983), 147-149. (Accessed from JSTOR, 26 February 2013.)

144 poor marks continued to substantiate black women’s presumed natural role as menial workers.

White Americans who accepted that they possessed an overall natural intellectual superiority over African Americans were not readily attuned to experts’ cautions over relating AGCT test scores to intelligence levels. The emerging evidence demonstrated that the tests were not indicators of potential success or failure. For instance, during its rush to train medical personnel (medical and surgical technicians and medical clerks), the

Army occasionally, if mistakenly, admitted Wacs who had scored below the desired cut- off point into the courses for these positions. Even as the Army instituted a fast-paced six-week course in place of the usual three-month program, these women typically completed it successfully.338 Perhaps most astonishing to many whites were the findings of anthropologists Ruth Benedict and Gene Welfish. In their pamphlet, “The Races of

Mankind,” these scholars argued that environment factors, rather than race, accounted for the bulk of disparate results on military tests. As evidence, they graphed the generally lower scores of white southerners to black northerners. Access to a decent education was the key.339 Debate over AGCT scores and their meaning continued throughout the war.

As historian MacGregor asserted, “basically the Army's mental tests measured educational achievement rather than native intelligence, and in 1941 educational

338 Treadwell, Women’s Army Corps, 356.

339 “The Races of Mankind was published in 1945.” Though generally well received among liberal whites, it did not dispel the notion of the overall superiority of white intelligence. Gilmore, Glenda Elizabeth. Defying Dixie: The Radical Roots of Civil Rights, 1919-1950 (New York: W.W. Norton &, 2008), 396.

145 achievement in the United States hinged more on geography and economics than color."340

Juggling housing issues, timetables, local civilian concerns, and job assignments were additional hurdles for commanders assigned black Wacs. Instead of connecting these problems to racist policies, however, officers viewed the women as the problem.341

In a phone conversation just days before the strike, Colonel Whitehurst of the Surgeon

General’s Office phoned Captain Sisson at Ft. Devens in a bid to transfer more black

Wacs to the base. When Sisson told him that he did not need any more black Wacs and to send them elsewhere, Whitehurst replied, “I don’t have any idea where to move them.”

He then expressed his frustrations with black Wacs as a whole: “They’re one of those things like the poor – they are always with us.”342 The general unfamiliarity of whites with African American women on a level economic and social plain afforded narrow grounds for mutual respect.

Some white officers took it upon themselves to abide by the spirit of the separate but equal policy. The commander of Ft. Huachuca, Arizona gave one of the first black units that emerged from Ft. Des Moines the “red carpet” treatment and placed its personnel in a variety of jobs such as medical technicians, office personnel, drivers,

340 MacGregor, Integration of the Armed Forces, 24.

341 “This view of the black soldier as a problem, rather than as a manpower asset to be fully utilized, pervaded the Armed Services in the first years of the war,” Richard M. Dalfiume, Desegregation of the U.S. Armed Forces; Fighting on Two fronts, 1939-1953 (Columbia: University of Missouri Press, 1969), 58.

342 “Telephone conversation between Colonel Whitehurst – Surgeon General – Washington and Cpt. Sisson,” 7 March 1945; War Department Investigation.

146 telephone operators, and clerks in the library and at post recreational facilities. The commander at Walla Walla Air Base also assigned the women to work as clerks, technicians in photo labs and in the hospital, and other jobs integral to base operations.

He would soon evaluate his new contingent as “fast becoming an invaluable aid to the officers and departments throughout the base command.” Similar comments greeted other detachments of Wacs, regardless of race, wherever they were responsibly employed.343

For most black Wacs, however, this was not usually the case.

In lieu of specific Army training regarding the employment of African American

Wacs and enforced measures against those who practiced sex and race discrimination, commanders depended upon their personal experiences to navigate the lines between separate and equal treatment among its different categories of troops. Unfortunately, formal and informal segregation practices throughout the nation meant that few officers would have had casual encounters with African American women other than those who worked as charwomen, maids, laundresses and, in rural areas, agricultural laborers. They would not have gone to school with them or lived down the street from them or, until the creation of the WAC, worked with them in the Army. Segregation in the military retained this division, for black women and also for black men, who mainly occupied low-enlisted positions. Consequently, most white officers’ personal experiences with African

Americans were extremely limited. After the court-martial, Crandall admitted, “I have

343 Chapter 4, “Black Units and Field Assignments,” in Putney, When the Nation Was In Need.

147 very little to do with the colored people in this country, and I realize that I don’t understand their psychology.”344

The black Wacs at Ft. Devens also had three detachment officers. Prior to their arrival, 1Lt. Victoria A. Lawson, a white Wac, was in charge of all of Lovell Hospital’s approximately three hundred servicewomen. Upon learning of the imminent arrival of the new detachment, she requested two black officers because, as she later explained, she felt the women would feel more relaxed around people of their own race.345 Indeed, this was the reason WAC policy cited for providing all black enlisted Wacs with at least one black

WAC officer. In consultation with Crandall and two other officers from the First Service

Command, Lawson claimed that she thought it best to make the black WAC unit “as much an individual organization as we could,” assuming that “they would prefer that.”346

By early October, the WAC dispatched 2Lt. Sophie Gay to command the detachment and

2Lt. Tenola Stoney as its supply officer. Gay was popular among her troops and had managed to maintain their morale as the months of orderly work dragged on. Upon an early, but honorable discharge (for reasons unstated in the records of the case), Gay left

344 Crandall interview, April, 19, 1945, War Department Investigation, NA; Crandall’s records indicate only two post assignments, Ft. Sill, Oklahoma and Ft. Devens where he took over as Commanding Officer of Lovell Hospital in January 1943, National Personnel Records Center, Military Personnel Records Division, St. Louis, Missouri.

345 Ibid. Lawson, interview, 6 March 1945.

346 Ibid., 68. Lawson had consulted with WAC Command Director Major Elizabeth W. Stearns of the 1st Service Command and Captain Jacob H. Bauer, Director of Personnel, Lovell Hospital.

148 the service on February 2, 1945. At this point, command of the detachment fell to the supply officer, Lt. Stoney.347 The Texas native took over just a month before the strike.

Stoney struggled to maintain a balance between her role as an Army officer and as an advocate of her enlisted women. As the link between the post command and her troops, Stoney, like other black officers, walked a fine line. On one hand, she was responsible to her superior officers and their agendas, and on the other, she had a duty to her troops and was responsible for their morale. The contradictory policies of separate but equal naturally thwarted honest efforts to perform both tasks. Meanwhile, shiny bars on crisp uniforms offered little protection against white suspicions that African American officers (especially females) were inherently unqualified for their roles and inept as leaders. Female or male, they had all of the responsibilities of their commissions though few of the benefits and even less the respect befitting their rank. During World War I, white officers had barred their black counterparts from officer clubs, filed reports on their perceived weaknesses and their uppity behavior, and labeled them as “good” so long as they “stayed in their place.”348 By World War II, little had changed for the individual officer beyond the stepped-up rhetoric of equality. Base policies and traditions still blocked them from most officer clubs, assumed their incompetence, and labeled those who confronted their officers over troop grievances as uncooperative. It was a tough spot for a young black lieutenant anxious to please and averse to making waves.

347 The records remain curiously silent on the reason for Gay’s discharge though she had only left the unit five weeks before the strike. Apparently, she had spent time in the hospital before her discharge and, according to Stoney, was living in Chicago at the time of the incident. Stoney interview, War Department Investigation.

348 Lee, Employment of Negro Troops, 13.

149 A more confident officer than Stoney might have taken the chance to air her detachment’s grievances given the legitimate complaints and her responsibility to its members. The risks in doing so were great, however, as the company commander of the black Wacs at Camp Rucker learned in August 1943. For two months she had persistently protested the menial duties her troops were assigned. One morning, she prepared to once again discuss these grievances with her post commander (the officer who had requested only southern Wacs). As she began, the commander angrily shouted, “You have no detachment!” At that, the post officer disbanded her unit.349 Pulled in two directions,

Stoney played it safe. She held weekly meetings where she listened to her troops' complaints, and she occasionally mentioned them to Lawson, though how much, is not clear. She also bided her time, reluctant to take unresolved matters to the next level of her chain of command.

Stoney would later testify that she assumed that Lawson was her next level of command. Lawson, on the other hand, countered that though she had remained in charge of all three WAC detachments at Ft. Devens, Stoney could have taken her issues directly to Crandall. In any case, Lawson’s claim that she “had no idea that there was anything brewing at all … until just before the strike – before the mutiny” is curious.350 In her position, she had a responsibility to check in with the women, including Stoney. Had she attended any of the weekly meetings, she surely would have been treated to a barrage of concerns. Instead, Lawson seems to have spent most of her time at Lovell Hospital North

349 Putney, When the Nation Was In Need, 96.

350 Lawson, interview, 6 April 1945, War Department Investigation, 70.

150 where the majority of white Wacs worked. Her unawareness of the conditions and morale of the black Wacs, therefore, was by design. Though Lawson cited the woman’s comfort level as a reason for ensuring they had black officers, the practice allowed her (and other

WAC leaders) to disengage from these troops and their training, treatment, and morale.

When an investigator asked Lawson about her knowledge of the black Wacs grievances at Lovell Hospital South, Lawson admitted that Lt. Gay had spoken to her about complaints, but she had not taken them seriously. “Well, frankly, there are the normal complaints that they don’t like to do scrubbing, but when those things were reported – well, I really can’t say that complaints that they didn’t like to scrub came to my ears. I can’t say it that way. I don’t know how to answer that one.”351 Given the dramatic events in the few weeks leading up to the strike, Lawson should have been well aware of the women’s situation and how desperate some of them were to gain their officers’ attention to their problems.

The black Wacs at Ft. Devens were painfully aware of their officers’ disinterest in their welfare and dismissal of their skills and intellect. They also recognized Stoney’s good intentions as well as her inability to take action on their behalf. On March 7, fifteen of the women took advantage of the Army’s annual inspection of the hospital to air their grievances to members of the visiting team. Thus, just two days before the strike, several black Wacs at Ft. Devens, for the first time, formally registered their dissatisfaction with their jobs and treatment. Pvts. Alice Young and Ruby Pierce claimed that they had been told by their recruiting officers and again at Ft. Des Moines, that they qualified as

351 Ibid., 69.

151 medical technicians, would enter training after basic training, and yet had been reclassified as orderlies upon arrival at Ft. Devens. Pvt. Alberta Doss added the problems of civilians who left their work for the Wacs to complete and clerks at the PX (Post

Exchange) who she claimed discriminated against them. Morrison wanted a transfer to the motor transport school; Verna Jones to physical therapy training. All complained about their duties, relating them to servant jobs. A distraught Pvt. Lucille Edmond, in what she most likely had intended as her last effort to turn things around, encapsulated the complaints. After summarizing the mal-assignments of black Wacs and the problems with civilians, she told the investigators that “She wants to learn things, is tired of being pushed around. Help in the PX do not want to wait on them. The white Wacs’ do not do

KP. She has to work too hard.” 352

By then, the detachment’s morale had perilously plummeted, a point that four attempted suicides between February and March tragically underscores.353 The first occurred three weeks before the strike, and the others, including Lucille Edmond, during the two weeks between the end of the strike and the court-martial. Alerted to the rash of suicide attempts by the publicity of the strike and trial, Congressman William T.

Granahan (D-PA) requested an Army investigation into each case. Granahan specifically

352 Memo to Colonel Putney from Major Miller, “Complaint from colored WAC Detachment at Lovell General and Convalescent Hospital,” 7 March 1945. Report included in War Department Investigation, Exhibit D.

353 In contrast, Pvt. Harriet E. Warfield’s letter to her aunt, written before the strike, stated that three women in her unit had by then attempted suicide due to their treatment at Ft. Devens, Carolyn Moore to Thurgood Marshall, 6 March 1945, Papers of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (microfilm), Part 9, Series C, Reel 12 (0934), Library of Congress.

152 wanted to know if a correlation existed between the women’s treatment at Ft. Devens and their desperate actions.

On February 14, 1945, Pvt. Beulah Sims overdosed on atropine sulphate. Days before, she had been arrested for being AWOL (Absent without Leave) and confined to quarters. Ignoring the orders, she left for the nearby town of Ayer where she was later discovered unconscious. Sims did not regain full consciousness for a day and a half, at which point the staff as Lovell Hospital sent her to Mason General Hospital in Long

Island, New York. The report sent to Granahan connected Sims’ action to a record that

“included marked promiscuity, heavy drinking and a marked psychopathic personality.”

The New York psychologists, however, had cited Sims’ orderly assignment as a possible contributing factor, noting that she was “surprised and disillusioned at having menial duties to perform in the Army instead of specialized work.”354 The report to Granahan did not mention this point, though it would later become part of Army’s comprehensive, and classified, investigation of the strike. The Army had no desire to air its dirty laundry, particularly once the case attracted public attention.

On March 10, the evening after the strike, Pvt. Lucille G. Edmond overdosed on sleeping pills. When resuscitated, she told the nurse that she “no longer wanted to live.”

The report to the congressman mentioned personal difficulties of the “nice type of young lady,” claiming that “no reason for her act could be determined.” The classified investigation, however, listed reasons stemming from the recent death of her grandfather

354 Edmond was discharged on March 9, 1945. “Final Summary” of Captain Elizabeth L. Bryan’s remarks regarding Beulah Sims, 3 March 1945, included in the War Department Investigation.

153 to her alleged emotional immaturity. The latter condition, according to the psychiatrist, also at Mason Hospital, led her to easily fall prey to those “enlisted women who felt they were being discriminated against in their assignments.” Due to their incitement, the investigation concluded, Edmond “became hopeless about the future and saw no prospect of attaining a more satisfactory status in the service.”355

On March 12, just two days later after Edmond’s overdose, Pvt. Grant Gilliland became the third woman of the detachment to attempt suicide, this time by ingesting

Lysol. According to the classified investigation of the strike, when revived, she complained that she “was a nervous wreck and couldn’t bear it.” Psychologists stated that

Gilliland, who had by all earlier accounts made a successful transition to the military, had also begun listening to those in her detachment who resented their “treatment and assignments the Negro women were alleged to have received at Lovell General

Hospital.” This, they believed, triggered a feeling of hopelessness that led to her to consider suicide. The diagnosis at Lovell Hospital suggested schizophrenia and the psychologist at Mason Hospital considered her condition a “depressive reaction, situational, acute, severe, and recovered.” The report to the congressman, however, stressed that Gilliland was a heavy drinker, promiscuous, unstable, and had a record of infractions. (Of the four, Gilliland was the only one to return to duty, which she did on

April 22.)356

355 Ibid. Edmond received a disability discharge on 13 April 1945. “Final Summary” of Captain D.D. Brusca’s remarks regarding Lucille Edmond with a follow-up report by Captain Alice R. Rost, 11 April 1945, War Department Investigation.

356 Ibid., Rost’s remarks regarding Grant Gilliland.

154 On March 18, Pvt. Charlene Cook tried to hang herself. She too had quickly adjusted to military life but according to the classified investigation, “became enmeshed in the resentment which flared in her detachment over the alleged harsh and derogatory treatment the Negro enlisted women were receiving.” In its report to the congressman, the Army noted that Cook “was not considered to be emotionally stable and no reason for her attempted suicide could be obtained.” Furthermore, the report explained that “While it is possible mis-assignment played some material part in Private Cook’s attempt on her own life, this seems unlikely in view of the fact that she was known to be preoccupied … in worries, most of which stemmed from her civil life.”357

In responding to Granahan’s inquiry over a connection with the women’s suicides and their conditions, the psychiatrists concluded that in three of the four cases (all but

Sims), the fault lay not with the Army, but with their unit members who created dissention among the troops. Significantly, the Army transferred Edmond, Gilliland, and

Cook to Mason Hospital “on or about March 21,” immediately after the court-martial.

Unlike Sims, these three were diagnosed at the height of the public debates over the strike action and the Army’s responsibilities to its black Wacs. In each of these remaining cases, the psychologists discounted the women’s jobs and treatment as potential factors in their action. They suggested various diagnoses instead, evaluating one of the women as having mixed-type psychoneurosis, another’s condition as anxiety-related, and two as suffering from a “depressive reaction” of a “situational” variety. Accordingly, the two reports on the cases, the one to Granahan and the one included in the classified

357 Ibid., Rost’s remarks regarding Christine Cook.

155 investigation, dismissed racism as a factor. Instead, they focused on the Wacs’ sex and presumed emotions.

In contrast to the report sent to the congressman, investigators looking into the strike acknowledged the disillusionment of all four women over their jobs and treatment, though in cautious terms. They concluded that the quick succession of attempted suicides during this volatile time did “indicate the extent to which at least some of the Negro enlisted women became upset over the manner in which they were being treated at Lovell

General Hospital.” This speculation neither directly implicated the Army nor recognized the seriously debilitating effects of differential treatment on the women, including the two who had initially shown positive adjustment to the military. Investigators sidestepped the deeper issues behind the women’s motives that might have led them to reflect on the

Army’s treatment of its black Wacs. For example, Pvt. Sims had left a suicide note, parts of which the Army redacted, that included her written cry, “I just can’t take it any longer.” Morrison, Murphy, Young, and Green would claim the same during their trial when explaining their actions. Nevertheless, investigators failed to recognize a connection between its treatment of the black Wacs and their desperate actions. The

Army investigated the suicides as they did the strike; thoroughly, yet superficially, with a clear determination to avoid looking too deeply into the “it” at the center of each desperate action.358

358 Though the Judge Advocate summarized the letter, a typed version of the original was included in the Exhibits section of the final report. Pvt. Sims’ letter to “Ruby” is included in the War Department Investigation.

156 After the first suicide attempt, Stoney counseled her troops to stay strong and on task, offered some assurances, and spoke to Lt. Lawson about their complaints. She did not, however, take decisive action by calling Crandall’s attention to a situation that had suddenly escalated beyond her control. The best she apparently managed during her month as detachment officer was one meek remark to Crandall that “the girls were kind of disgusted about their assignments on the wards but I was trying to make them feel it was a big job even though it was just scrubbing.”359

Between Lt. Lawson’s disinterest and Lt. Stoney’s vague remarks, the concerns of the black Wacs at Ft. Devens festered unattended for nearly five months. Even Sims’ dramatic suicide attempt did not move Lawson or Crandall to take an interest in the detachment. As Pvt. Warfield’s letter to her aunt and the request for an investigation further attest, morale was at a breaking point among the black Wacs assigned to Lovell

Hospital.

No doubt many of the Wacs at Lovell Hospital South wondered why they had trusted Army guarantees of equal treatment for all Wacs. Its segregation policy and its treatment of black male soldiers, ninety percent of whom were relegated to menial service battalions, could not have inspired great faith among potential volunteers.360

Competing with this historical reality, however, was the nation’s professed commitment to a war for democratic justice and the Army’s urgent requests for Wacs to fulfill essential tasks. Both circumstances had given black women reason to believe that the

359 Ibid. Stoney, interview, 6 April 1945.

360 Foner, Blacks and the Military in American History, 134.

157 Army, at least during a national emergency, would put lofty war aims above petty prejudices. It did not. As Charity Adams [Earley] noted in her memoirs, for the women,

“it was difficult to understand the logic that refused the use of trained personnel whose services could help end hostilities.”361

However murky this logic to black Wacs during World War II, it was crystal clear to the majority of white Americans. In their reality, African Americans had generally the same opportunities as did white Americans, if not the same intellectual and moral fortitude to socially and economically advance. National statistics that consistently showcased African Americans in the bottom spectrums of education and economic indicators – and at the top of crime reports -- provided the proof. It was a constructed reality, however, rooted in long-established patterns that privileged whites over blacks, men over women, and the middle class over the working class and poor. It was also a manipulated reality based on separate education, employment, and judicial standards as designed through state policies. Ultimately, this widely accepted white viewpoint was a skewed reality that not only lacked credible causal analysis but accurate data as well.

Consequently, the statistics of the era that suggested that African Americans were predisposed to immoral behavior were in effect, highly stage-managed by those in authority. In the 1940s, white Americans wrote the laws and appointed the officials to administer and enforce them. They controlled the courts and police. They owned the majority of the media and dominated employment opportunities. With so much concentrated power in white hands, those among them who wished to take advantage of

361 Adams Earley, One Woman’s Army, 79.

158 the situation could do so with impunity. Many did, and in horrifying ways. The case of

Recy Smith illustrates the extent of white dominance of the period.

In October 1944, several young men gang-raped Smith, a twenty-four year old wife, mother, and sharecropper. The brutal attack was appalling, yet all too common as was the authority’s handling of her case. Despite proof, including admissions by her assailants, the local authorities did not arrest the men. Outraged, activist black women in nearby Montgomery (including Rosa Parks who initially brought attention to the case) organized in order to seek justice for Smith and to expose the unremitting terror of white male violence against black women. That November, as the detachment of black Wacs were settling into Ft. Devens, news of the Smith rape splashed across black newspapers and then into the mainstream press. The publicity forced the governor to insist on the men’s arrest and prosecution. Though the subsequent slapdash trial in an all-white judge and jury court-room produced “not guilty” verdicts, the fact that the men were tried at all was a major accomplishment. It was also a hollow one, especially for black women, as it further demonstrated what they already knew: they had no one to turn to for justice.362

In contrast to the state’s reluctance to prosecute white men, thousands of black men routinely faced execution over unsubstantiated and often patently false accusations of sexual assaults against white women. Between 1900 and 1930, Florida recorded 281 lynchings, All but 25 of the victims were African American. By 1959, the state’s courts had condemned another 37 black men for attacking white women and sent them to the

362 Danielle L. McGuire, At the Dark End of the Street Black Women, Rape, and Resistance: A New History of the Civil Rights Movement from Rosa Parks to the Rise of Black Power. (New York: Knopf, 2010), 3-47.

159 electric chair. Not until 1959 would Florida convict its first white men for raping a black woman, the first southern state to do so.363 Until then, the media had no such cases to report, only plenty of alarmingly salacious details depicting the dangers black men posed to white women. On the rare occasions when papers mentioned white male attacks of black females, including the respectable Recy Smith, they inevitably included apparently pardonable reasons. According to the men who raped Smith, she was a “whore,” a jezebel, an oversexed woman who consented to have sex with them and took money in exchange.364 Black women’s morality was not so much questioned as assumed to be questionable.

Data depicting an intellectual gap relied in part on policies that promoted inequitable school systems throughout the country. The resulting differences in the educational systems helped justify the relegation of white Americans to skilled jobs and others, mainly non-whites and the poor of any category, to menial labor. They also simultaneously gave an intellectual, or at least an educational, advantage to white

Americans, particularly middle class men who had greater access to apprenticeships and colleges. This advantage further validated white men’s greater opportunities for jobs of respectable status and salaries. The War Department maintained the pretext of racially differential levels of intelligence through AGCT evaluations based on literacy levels. 365

363 Ibid., 160-190; the Florida judge sentenced the four men to life in prison rather than to death as courts did black men for the same crime.

364 Ibid., 39-44.

365 McGuire, “Desegregation of the Armed Forces,” 148-9.

160 Poor test results allowed the Army to reject proportionally more African

American than white recruits and relegate those admitted to manual and menial labor assignments. Military protocol, however, contained a glitch: unlike civilians who could, for instance, insist that African Americans but not whites take a literacy test to vote, the

Army had to uniformly test all potential recruits regardless of race, sex, or class, using the same criteria. Consequently, while its AGCT scores successfully screened out African

Americans, they also, much to the regret of Stimson, blocked the enlistment of illiterate whites, too. Given the standard across-the-board testing, the Army’s emphasis on AGCT scores produced a seemingly natural segmentation of categories that mirrored the civilian labor force. Inevitably, this categorization affected all African American service personnel, from the enlisted Wacs at Ft. Devens to the nation’s highest ranking black officer, General Benjamin O. Davis.

The Army placed black officers where they would least often encounter, and hence offend, white subordinates who would then be obliged to show them the respect of a superior officer. Throughout his long forty-year career, Davis most desired a cavalry command for which he qualified in every aspect except but one, his race. With few exceptions, therefore, the Army shuffled Davis between the all-black Wilberforce

University and the Tuskegee Institute to teach military science.366 During World War II, the Army insisted that it assigned personnel according to their abilities as based on the

AGCT. Stimson’s desire to recruit illiterate whites but not blacks and the Army’s

366 Benjamin O. Davis, Jr., Benjamin O. Davis, Jr.: An Autobiography (Washington: Smithsonian Institute Press, 1991), 8-13.

161 determination to isolate Davis reveal that racial issues took far great precedence over ability.

Perceptions of moral and intellectual deficiencies also justified the exclusion of

African Americans from areas where whites lived. The state sanctioned such exclusions through federal government-backed mortgage loans to neighborhoods covered by housing covenants, a practice in which banks and insurance companies conspired to block out “undesirables.” Until World War II, the list of undesirables might include

Hispanic, Italians, Asians, Jews, and numerous other categories. The war for democracy and the integration of diverse ethnicities in the military and factories led to relaxed covenant restrictions, though rarely for African Americans. Likewise, the Army did its best to uphold the color barrier, no small effort given the confined spatial boundaries of military posts. In the mid-1930s, Benjamin O. Davis, Jr., son of the senior Davis, earned admission to West Point. Integrated officer training and Academy protocol entitled him to live in the same buildings as other cadets. West Point officials, however, refused to assign him a roommate. They also permitted his classmates to completely shun the cadet throughout his four years at the Academy. The isolation continued after Davis moved into officer housing at Ft. Benning, Georgia with his wife, and neighbors refused to acknowledge the young couple.367 The physical distance that the Army insisted upon for enlisted personnel inferred that African Americans were, at best, simply different, and at worst, problems best avoided. To ensure segregated living conditions at Ft. Devens, the

367 Ibid., 56-57.

162 Army removed all white Wacs from Lovell Hospital South and its nearest barracks where they lived before the black WAC Detachment moved to Ft. Devens.

As natural as this white reality appeared to most Americans, it was manipulated, false, and skewed – and as such, had dire consequences for the nation and its troops. Due to severe personnel shortages, the War Department based its combat strategy around a force of just ninety-divisions. As casualties mounted from D-Day and into 1945, the

Army had to replenish its deployed forces with replacements, usually young men taken from training establishments from the states. Lacking the camaraderie and experience developed over months of training and fighting with the same men, replacements quickly fell in battle and onto casualty lists. According to military historian Peter Mansoor, “A greater number of divisions would have enabled American commanders to rotate units more frequently … thereby reducing the rate of casualties.”368 In fact, the Army had almost a million available black troops, many whom remained underutilized through the war. Despite crippling losses, Army officers refused to deploy into combat most of its black soldiers, even though they were eager for frontline duty. The Army also left black

Wacs cleaning floors instead of filling jobs that would have released men for combat.

Many white soldiers paid with their lives in the fight abroad because of racist military personnel policies. Black Wacs paid a different price in the war they were waging at home.

By January of 1945, the morale of the Wacs at Ft. Devens had reached a breaking point. The women resented the fact that, despite the Army’s desperation for personnel,

368 Mansoor, GI Offensive in Europe, 11.

163 they were confined to orderly duties that civilians could, and did, fill. Rejecting the

Army’s attempts to disparage their morals, intelligence, and abilities, some of the women sought ways to improve their treatment and opportunities. Their efforts would soon lead to a strike. Others, however, saw their experiences in the WAC as an extension of black women’s conditions as civilians. It wasn’t a temporary situation, and, there was no escape. Rather there was one ultimate escape, and, within a month, four of them would opt for it. The psychological toll on these women was enormous.

Army officers’ policies, personal prejudices, and overall unfamiliarity with black women led to a near vacuum of appropriate assignments for black Wacs during World

War II. The Army allowed, and even encouraged, officers to place black Wacs into mundane jobs where the women had few opportunities to demonstrate their abilities, gain advanced training, and earn promotions. As uniformed members of the armed forces, their options to resist were limited. They could not quit, directly consult with the base commander, or count on the WAC, in Washington or at Ft. Devens, to work on their behalf. Additionally, they had an ill-functioning chain of command that even their company officers did not fully understand. Most frustrating for the women was that few appeared to take their complaints seriously – at least, few among the leadership of the

WAC and the Army.

164 Chapter 4. Wacs Take a Stand

“Now Is the Time Not To Be Silent” 369

In January of 1942, W.E.B. Dubois published an article in the Crisis, the mouthpiece of the NAACP, drawing a direct correlation between the purposes of the war and the civil rights movement. In “Now Is the Time Not to Be Silent,” he argued that as the nation galvanized around a war for democracy, African Americans had a moral duty to unite in this noble cause. This was the moment to break the bonds of totalitarianism in foreign lands – and in their own. “The highest expression of patriotism in these war years,” DuBois proclaimed, “will come in the critical analysis of our objectives, in the refusal to ignore, now or later those evils among us.”370

By the early 1940s, Dubois’ proclamation was not precedent-setting, but rather the prevailing view among the black mainstream. Nearly thirty years before, African

Americans had largely and enthusiastically rallied around the Great War. In a show of patriotic unity, black men enlisted in the military and civilians put the national emergency before major civil rights campaigns. Indeed, they intended to demonstrate their loyalty to

369369 “Now Is the Time Not to Be Silent,” The Crisis (Jacksonville Pictorial Number, 1942), 7. (Interlibrary Loan, Ohio State University, Columbus, Ohio). The article’s author is not recorded, yet according to Ira Katznelson, it was W.E.B. Dubois. When Affirmative Action Was White: An Untold History of Racial Inequality in Twentieth-century America (New York: W.W. Norton, 2005), 86-88.

370 Ibid.

165 the nation as equal to any American. Since many whites objected to any suggestion of racial equality, however, the assertion backfired into a resurgence of Jim Crow legislation. African Americans had learned their lesson: compromise and accommodation would not alone break down racial barriers. Destroying barriers required forcefully demanding equal rights and actively resisting segregation.

When another world war called upon the American public to once again unite as patriots, African Americans reaffirmed their loyalty to the nation. This time, however, they did so with a commitment to simultaneously and aggressively pursue racial justice at home, too. As DuBois pointed out in his “Now Is the Time Not to be Silent” article, “A

Jim Crow strategy … cannot build a free world,” and neither could “a jim crow army.”371

The civil rights movement entered the war years prepared to use the great moral force that America’s war for democracy gave their struggle. “So we fight the Great Fight,” concluded Dubois, “And we begin here, and now.” The article’s tone and temperament reflected the era’s militant mood. African Americans had grown impatient with the stubbornly persistent racist social order, and the war gave them pretext and standing to demand change.

Clearly, then, the Ft. Devens black Wacs’ expectations for equal treatment at

Lovell Hospital had not evolved in a vacuum. These had long before taken root in local communities that nurtured self-respect and racial pride. They reflected the understanding that individual participation in the struggle was pivotal to its success, and the new militancy of the 1940s. The women’s actions also testify to the emergence of a national

371 Ibid.

166 civil rights movement with increasing clout and this, too, was emboldening African

Americans to take a stand – and not be silent.

Thus, local movement fed into the increasingly national network of civil rights organizations, the black press, and prominent persons committed to the cause. The nation’s need for African American labor and cooperation had rendered this loose coalition substantial bargaining powers so that it was a genuine force during the war years. At its core, however, the civil rights movement of the 1940s remained a grassroots movement. Operating on shoestring budgets, virtually all associations and leaders, local and national, relied on ordinary citizens to support their work and spread their messages.

As a result, they centered their campaigns on individual actions that challenged discrimination.

This emphasis and publicity of ordinary African American resistance measures naturally gave credence to thousands of other actions, including the strike at Ft. Devens,

Massachusetts. The black Wac orderlies were not expecting national interest in their strike, but rather the Army’s attention to their grievances. If the strike failed, they knew they at least had the support and pride of their local communities for not acquiescing to racial discrimination.

Local communities, therefore, provided the first rung of support for African

Americans. Physically separated from white areas, residents established their own social foundations, independent from the white communities that excluded them. They formed neighborhood associations, supported churches and schools, and provided outreach programs for those in need. Local groups occasionally linked with national organizations.

Many women’s clubs, for instance, registered under the umbrella of the National 167 Association of Colored Women Clubs (NACWC) while women and men established community branches of organizations such as the NAACP and the National Urban

League (NUL). Mostly, however, residents worked with each other to counteract the deep racial prejudices they encountered just outside their boundaries, intent on providing nurturing environments for their young and instilling a sense of pride in their communities and their race.

On their own, however, African Americans had little voice outside their communal boundaries, and even less in the nation’s corridors of power. At the mercy of all-white governments, juries, and employers, those who openly opposed the status quo took great personal risks. By the early 1940s, however, the growing presence of the civil rights movement on the national stage seemed to be mitigating some of these risks, or at the very least, providing a wider context of the various local actions.

The civil rights network of renowned civil rights organizations, black newspapers, and activists were making their mark in Congress, the courts, and the media.

Representing large swaths of the 13 million African Americans, its components were gaining increasing influence and, with it, access to the country’s most powerful persons.

Working on their own or in collaboration with others, they were able to mount vigorous and widespread campaigns in support of average African Americans who were seeking racial justice. During the war, this included a defendant fighting a fraudulent rape charge, a student seeking admittance to her state’s segregated law program, a soldier protesting discrimination in the military, and many other causes.372 Popular support surged in favor

372 Lloyd Gaines and Pauli Murray were the chief plaintiffs in the most well-known cases of African Americans attempting to attend state universities. Both sought entry to law schools, Gaines in 168 and support of this national network and this further fueled the prominence and influence of its civil rights organizations, the black press, and prominent persons who challenged the status quo.

A number of black organizations had achieved national prominence by the 1940s.

The oldest was the National Association of Colored Women Clubs (NACWC).

Established in 1896, it represented a coalition of women’s clubs from across the nation that operated under the motto “lifting as we climb.”373 The National Urban League, formed in 1910, addressed the issues created by the mass northern migrations of African

Americans following the Supreme Court’s Plessy v. Ferguson ruling. The Brotherhood of

Sleeping Car Porters, founded in 1925, set labor precedent for African Americans in the

1930s by gaining collective bargaining rights with the Pullman Company and admittance into the American Federation of Labor (AFL). In 1941, it played a crucial role in convincing Roosevelt to order war industries to employ African Americans. By 1935,

Mary McLeod Bethune had established the National Council of Negro Women (NCNW) to pursue direct civic action within the nation’s corridors of power.374 An interracial

Mississippi and Murray in North Carolina. Neither was successful. Gaines mysteriously disappeared in 1939, and Murray would graduate from Howard University in 1944. For an intriguing detail of Murray’s fight to study in her state, see Glenda Gilmore, Defying Dixie: The Radical Roots of Civil Rights, 1919-1950 (New York: W.W. Norton &, 2008), 276-280.

373 Stephanie Shaw, “The Creation of the National Association of Colored Women,” in Hine, Darlene Clark, Wilma King, and Linda Reed. eds. "We Specialize in the Wholly Impossible": A Reader in Black Women's History (Brooklyn, New York: Carlson Publishing, 1995), 441.

374 As did the NACWC, the NACW functioned as an umbrella agency for the myriad of women’s clubs and organizations. The NACW differed in the emphasis it placed on promoting respectability to earn white acceptance. Bethune focused instead on working directly with and in the government to integrate African American women and their interests into national economic, educational, and political institutions. Paula Giddings, When and Where I Enter: The Impact of Black Women on Race and Sex in American (Toronto: Bantam Books, 1985), 202. 169 alliance created the Congress of Racial Equality (CORE) in 1942. It sought integration through pacifism, laying important groundwork for collective actions, including peaceful sit-ins. Through varied platforms and strategies, these national civil rights organization and others made important inroads for African Americans during the 1940s.

The largest of these organizations was the National Association of Colored People

(NAACP). Founded in 1909, the NAACP parlayed its energies into petitioning the highest levels of government and working through the courts. In 1940, the NAACP established its Legal Defense Fund, consisting of a small band of lawyers with Thurgood

Marshall at the helm. The NAACP did not always win its battles; indeed, it frequently lost them.375 Nevertheless, its stalwart pursuit of justice through grassroots campaigns attracted significant national attention, further uniting African Americans while exposing white Americans to the brutal reality of racial discrimination. The NAACP could not attend to all those who needed its services, yet by representing those in similar circumstances, it validated the efforts of thousands of others who likewise resisted racism. During World War II, African Americans commonly expressed their confidence in the NAACP. A soldier stationed in Georgia noted, “I have found out the only way that our evolution problems can be solved is by organization and I think the NAACP is the

375 Defeats were more numerous than victories until after the 1940s. For instance, the NAACP sought legislation against lynching, all-white primaries, and school segregation. Though setting important precedents, all failed during this decade. The NAACP’s efforts to gain the release of servicemen sentenced to long prison terms by racially-charged court-martials typically led to reductions in sentences rather than overturned verdicts. See the Houston Riot (Chapter 1) and the Port Chicago Mutiny (Chapter 8).

170 one who should see the job through.”376 Mary Smith, upon receiving a letter from her niece, Pvt. Harriet Warfield, describing conditions at Ft. Devens, immediately apprised her local branch office of the situation. The soldier and aunt were not alone in placing their confidence in the NAACP. Between 1940 and 1946, its membership increased nine- fold.377

Local community groups were essential to national organizations, and they numbered in the tens of thousands and included women’s societies, religious congregations, veterans’ organizations, civic groups, union locals, and college fraternities and sororities. Because their members shared the indignities of segregation, each group typically recognized its responsibility to the race regardless of its distinctive purpose.

Members took it upon themselves to inform and update each other on various campaigns and to participate in national actions, from letter-writing to fund-raising for specific court cases and victims of racism. In this manner, local and national organizations supported each other’s initiatives, or at least the underlying anti-racist purpose of them. Strategies widely differed within and between organizations, and not all groups would work with each other.378 Nevertheless, the fact that no African American, regardless of gender,

376 Letter, PFC Julius R. Primus, Ft. Oglethorpe, Georgia to the NAACP, New York, 2 October 1945. “Discrimination in the U.S. Armed Forces, 1918-1955,” NAACP Papers, Reel 11, Part 9, Series C (Columbus: Ohio State University) microfilm.

377 NAACP membership leaped from 50,000 in 1940 to 450,000 by 1946, Howard W. Odum, Race and Rumors of Race (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1997).

378 Due to the government’s crackdown on left-leading groups, a particular divisive issue among civil rights organizations and persons was allowing the participation of those committed to socialism, or seen as holding such views. Personality clashes and territorial concerns also created factions. Patricia Sullivan, Days of Hope: Race and Democracy in the New Deal Era (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina, 1996); Philip A. Klinker with Rogers M. Smith, The 171 class, or regional location, could escape the daily degradations of racism assured some common ground for all. This in turn engendered massive popular support for civil rights organizations, especially those operating on the national stage where they seemed well- positioned to tackle widespread racial injustice.

Women were highly active in black organizations, often leading local affiliates that were less about women’s rights than African American rights.379 Certainly, the all- female NACWC and the NCNW boasted women leaders and women-driven agendas, yet the emphasis was on their duties to advance the conditions of all African Americans.

Black women also participated on the national level through auxiliaries of male- dominated organizations. The Ladies Auxiliary of the International Brotherhood of

Sleeping Car Porters was the most prominent during the 1940s, yet it existed to assist male relatives’ unionizing efforts.380 (The creation of the Women’s Auxiliary Army

Corps followed this established pattern designed to distinguish masculine and feminine roles within the same cause.)

Without a doubt, men of the movement valued the contributions of black women and supported their rights. They had campaigned for the Army to open the WAC to black women and would later applaud the Ft. Devens Wacs for the stand they took against racial discrimination. Yet they also prioritized the union rights of men over those of

Unsteady March: The Rise and Decline of Racial Equality in America (Chicago, University of Chicago Press); Gilmore, Defying Dixie.

379 See Stephanie Shaw’s What a Women Ought to be and to Do: Black Professional Women Workers during the Jim Crow Era (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1996).

380 Melinda Chateauvert, Marching Together: Women of the Brotherhood of Sleeping Porters. (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1998).

172 women, failed to tackle the issues of domestics, and launched campaigns to protect black men from lynching, but not to protect black women from rape. So great were the obstacles facing black men and women alike, that the need for unity outweighed most black women’s concerns for a feminist agenda. When news of the Ft. Devens strike broke, nationally prominent civil rights organizations placed the case featuring four

African American women squarely in the context of racial discrimination, folding their experiences into those of black male soldiers rather than focusing on gender inequalities.

The black press generated enormous publicity for the civil rights movement by publishing news of national and local events that kept black Americans informed. Taking the cue from their readership, commentators struck a militant tone. Sales soared. By

1942, nearly 340 news journals, magazines, and bulletins by African American publishers circulated the country. Approximately 150 of these were newspapers, enough for each major city to have at least one weekly edition.381 The largest of these devoted most of their coverage, an average of 75 percent of their entire content, to news and editorials and the remaining 25 percent to feature articles on celebrities, sports, and society. The latter section regularly included announcements of the men and women who enlisted in the military, their promotions, and various other honorable mentions, from military commendations to marriages.382 Editors were determined to inform as well as inspire, and

381 Some cities boasted of more than one black newspaper: Birmingham and Houston had two, Philadelphia and New York three, and Cleveland five; From the Bureau of Census, Division of Negro Statistics as reported by Florence Murray, The Negro Handbook, 1942 (New York: Wendell Malliet and Company, 1942), 201.

382 Russell Buchanan, Black Americans in World War II (Santa Barbara, California: Clio Books, 1977), 8.

173 therefore printed stories of African Americans’ personal achievements and their collective contributions to both the war effort and the civil rights movement. Frequently, these included accounts of disciplinary incidents; those based on racial discrimination were a source of pride rather than shame. During the war, the black press devoted a great deal of space to African Americans in uniform and the effects of segregation. Though marketplace competitors, black newspaper owners and editors combined the might of their publishing enterprises to battle Jim Crow ideology and liberals’ laissez-faire reaction to racial issues.

Chief among the black press was The Pittsburgh Courier. Its bold editorials and detailed attention to facts made it the most widely circulated African American newspaper of the decade, and a formidable force in the civil rights movement. In 1940, its new editor, Percival L. Prattis, headlined the experiences of thirteen sailors facing a court-martial. The Navy had arrested the men after they had complained to the Courier about the service’s racist practices.383 The public response was massive among African

Americans, generating scores of letters to the paper, the Navy, and government officials.

Due to the outcry and Prattis’s personal intervention, the Navy dropped the court-martial proceedings, though it also subsequently discharged the men.384 Throughout the war, the

383 Charles A. Simmons, the African American Press: A History of News Coverage during National Crises, with Special Reference to Four Black Newspapers, 1827-1965 (Jefferson, NC: McFarland &, 1998), 7.

384 Ibid., 73-74. The Navy discharged the seamen under less than honorable conditions. It was a disappointing conclusion to the incident, yet the discharges most certainly saved the men from the usual guilty verdicts and lengthy prison terms court-martials typically handed black men over similar charges. The Pittsburgh Courier also took up the case of Dorie Miller, the black mess man stationed on a ship during the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor. After pulling his captain to safety, he manned a machine gun and began shooting at the Japanese plane. The Courier pushed for the Medal of Honor; the Navy awarded him the lesser Navy Cross instead. 174 Courier gave extensive coverage to African American disciplinary cases (including the

Ft. Devens Wac strike). Under Prattis’s mentorship, it also spearheaded the enormously successful Double V campaign.385

In a 1941 letter to the Pittsburgh Courier, a young dishwasher detailed his frustration with white Americans’ dismal regard for African American’s war contributions. Asking if it would be “demanding too much to demand full citizenship rights in exchange for the sacrificing of my life,” James G. Thompson gave voice to the two-front war that African Americans understood they were fighting, one against fascism abroad and another against racial discrimination at home. Prattis seized the moment and, with much fanfare, published Thompson’s letter, thereby launching the “Double V” campaign. Other papers picked it up, ensuring even wider attention. Soon, African

Americans stationed stateside and overseas were raising their fingers in a double-V fashion. Prattis’ creative engineering of a letter into a full campaign propelled one of the most successful civil rights ventures of the war.386

Other major national black papers also had large followings and a similar influence on their readers. The Chicago Defender, The Boston Chronicle, and The Afro-

American chain were among the most well-known. They headlined leading racial controversies, published investigative reports, and unleashed hard-hitting editorials that dissected the abuses against black service personnel. In contrast, mainstream white newspapers rarely mentioned African Americans beyond reports of crime, poverty, and

385 Simmons, the African American Press, 79-81.

386 Ibid; also see Nalty, Strength for the Fight, 141-142.

175 racial disturbances. Even by the Army’s account, “out of all the [nation’s] editorials and opinion columns, only six one-hundredths of one percent dealt with Negro subjects.”387

The black press provided news about African Americans from their perspective, and as it did so, it provocatively pressed for equal rights for all citizens, regardless of race.

As journalists gained African Americans’ support through straightforward depictions of racism in America, they attracted both the military’s attention and its suspicions. Judging the black press a menace to national security, Secretary of War

Stimson used his leverage to block distribution of its publications at military installation mail rooms and libraries.388 Overly ambitious white service personnel followed suit and warned black troops that the black press often “distorted facts to the detriment of the

Negroes themselves.” 389 Personal experiences convinced African Americans otherwise, and they put their faith in black papers. Among Alice Young’s scrapbook clippings of her own court-martial are nineteen articles, all of which appear to be from the various black publications, and none from the mainstream press.390

387 Army Service Forces Manual M5, “Leadership and the Negro Soldier” (Washington, D.C.: United States Government Printing Office, 1944), 66.

388 From Secretary of the Department of War, Henry L. Simpson’s biography as reported by Washburn, Patrick Scott. A Question of Sedition: The Federal Government's Investigation of the Black Press during World War II (New York: Oxford University Press, 1986), 113.

389 An investigation into the alleged remarks of Captain Stillman at Ft. Des Moines, Iowa recorded that Stillman had claimed that The Pittsburgh Courier was “a trouble maker, undependable, and not worth the paper it is printed on.” Stillman denied that he made the statement though his unsworn testimony indicates that these views were fairly representative of his views. “Investigation of comments made by a Captain of your Command,” War Department/WAC Ft. Des Moines, 12 August 1942, RG 165, Stack 390, Row 31, Comp 4, Shelf 03-04, Entry 54, Box 49, Folder 291.2, NA.

390 Articles from Alice Young’s scrapbook (received from Stacie Porter).

176 By the 1940s, African Americans could also take heart that prominent members of their race were in direct communication with the nation’s highest offices representing their interests. People knew, for instance, that Mary McLeod Bethune and Eleanor

Roosevelt were on friendly terms and that the NAACP’s leader, Walter White, personally met with the president. They were also aware that A. Philip Randolph, President of the

Brotherhood of Sleeping Car Porters, had confronted Roosevelt with demands that he require federal defense contractors to hire black workers. With the announcement of

Presidential Order 8802, African Americans learned that Roosevelt had conceded to a black man’s demands.391

Such high-level contacts spawned other prominent positions for African

Americans in the early 1940s. In the military alone, this included the Army’s first black general, Benjamin O. Davis, Sr.; a civilian aide to the Secretary of War, William H.

Hastie; and a civilian aide to WAC Director Oveta Culp Hobby, Mary McLeod

Bethune.392 Despite their prestigious titles, in reality all three had limited authority.

Nevertheless, Bethune, in her role as civilian advisor, was able to avert a disaster for black Wacs. Shortly before the training was to commence, she learned that Hobby intended to segregate WAC officer training. As a departure from the Army’s recent integrated male Officer Candidates Schools, this was an unexpected development.

391 Randolph demanded jobs for African Americans in the defense industry and integration in the Armed Services. Presidential Order 8802 provided for job opportunities, yet with many loopholes for employers. It also introduced the Federal Employment Practices Committee; it was largely ineffective at the time. The order fell far short of Randolph’s demands.

392 Hastie was also the first black federal judge and a dean of Howard University Law School. Jack D. Foner, Blacks and the Military in American History: A New Perspective. New York: Praeger Publishers, 1974, 136/157.

177 Bethune immediately, and successfully, took steps to pre-empt the plan, ensuring that black and white WAC officers trained together.393 She also managed to secure prominent roles for black women in the corps, personally selecting several of its first officers. At least two were among the well-educated and highly capable women she mentored,

Harriet West [Waddie] and Dovey Johnson [Roundtree].394 Johnson, in particular, resisted the discrimination she and her troops faced, and she did so fully confident of

Bethune’s backing.

In general, African Americans marked each military promotion and appointment as a major milestone, yet many were largely token gestures meant to limit charges of racism rather than address any substantial root causes of it. Hastie was well aware of this, and for two years wrangled with War Department officials complaining that the Army was not doing enough to address the racism that plagued black service personnel. His critiques were not welcomed. Indeed, Hastie’s colleagues charged him with using his position “to advance the colored people as a race at the expense of the Army.” Frustrated with the War Department’s open preference for the status quo, Hastie concluded that he could better help the cause from outside the military. In January of 1943, he resigned. 395

393 Bethune had crucial assistance from Eleanor Roosevelt whom she quickly notified. Dovey Johnson Roundtree, Justice Older than the Law (Jackson: University Press of Mississippi, 2009), 50-52.

394 Both rose in the ranks in the WAC and would later capitalize on their experiences and veteran benefits to pursue successful civilian careers. See local tribute to West [Waddie] by Eric Mortenson, “Women’s vim, style remembered by friends,” (Eugene, Oregon, The Register- Guard, February 28, 1999), 1D, and Johnson Roundtree’s autobiography, Justice Older than the Law.

395 Memos, Lt. Col. James W. Boyer, of the Adjutant General’s Office to General Emory S. Adams, The Adjutant General, 1 January 1942/ December 22, 1941. Lee, Employment of Negro Troops, 145. Segregated officer training was the final reason for Hastie’s resignation. Bernard 178 Most African Americans, however, were not privy to the same high level negotiations, and they celebrated their recent representation in the military’s upper hierarchy as augers of real change. Ironically, rather than mollifying black ambitions, the Army’s token appointments fed expectations of real change in the military.

Collectively, civil rights organizations, publications, and prominent individuals informed and inspired African Americans. In the process, they strengthened the solidarity within the movement and exposed the wider public to the experiences of the black citizens. The national attention they gave to African American concerns and grievances invigorated the grassroots, further encouraging their expectations that real change was within their grasp. They also prevailed upon citizens to personally participate, in some manner, in the struggle for racial justice. African Americans responded as they had for generations. They volunteered as letter writers, fund-raisers, and local leaders. They organized boycotts, strikes, petition drives, and other collective actions. These measures provided the grist for civil rights organizations, the black press, and prominent activists that helped them carry on their work. Their efforts, combined with local initiatives, produced an effective multiplier effect of individual actions which, in turn, inspired further resistance among individuals.

The key to the civil rights movement’s momentum during the war years was its constituency of average citizens from all walks of life who generally accepted that, as

African Americans, they, too, had a pivotal role to play. As a result, they entered into a

Nalty and Morris J. MacGregor, Blacks in the Military: Essential Documents (Wilmington, Delaware: Scholarly Resources, Inc., 1982), 118-119.

179 wholly reciprocal agreement with the movement. They supported local and national initiatives, thereby enhancing rights activists’ authority to work on their behalf. In return, civil rights activists and movements centered their campaigns on individuals who put themselves on the line to stand against racial injustice. By carefully selecting their cases, movements intended to showcase incidents that best exemplified the plight of African

Americans.

Though the national civil rights movement especially targeted the armed forces and its segregation policies during the war, Wacs and soldiers could not realistically expect the NAACP to mitigate all grievances, The Pittsburgh Courier to publicize each effort, or General Davis to personally intervene in every case of racism. They could expect the personal support of local communities and an understood justification for their actions given the messages of the national network. Indeed, these messages empowered

African Americans by articulating their fundamental citizen rights, publicizing military policies directing equal treatment, and presenting inspiring examples of individuals who refused to accept racist treatment. The effects of the civil rights movement during the war years are pointedly evident in the risks thousands took to challenge racism in the military.

In March of 1945, the fifty-four black Wac orderlies at Ft. Devens would be among them.

As the women of the black WAC Detachment at Ft. Devens entered their fifth month of orderly work, they had few qualms about questioning the exclusive earmarking of their members for cleaning duties. They complained regularly to their detachment commander, Lt. Tenola Stoney, though to no avail. On March 7, 1945, sixteen black

Wacs took advantage of the annual inspection of the hospital to report their grievances to the visiting officers. Lt. Colonel Henry C. Ransom and Major George H. Miller 180 interviewed the women and recorded summaries of their concerns. Pvt. Anna Morrison complained that “they had to do KP (kitchen police) duty though white Wacs did not.”

Several spoke of the discrimination they encountered at the PX (Post Exchange). Pvt.

Dorothy Petty described an incident when a clerk told her she was out of a particular item only to produce it when a white Wac requested the same thing. According to Ransom and

Miller, most of the complaints centered on their orderly assignments.396 Pvt. Lillian M.

Wallace wanted to “go to medical technical school as promised before enlisting. She is only doing maid’s work." Pvt. Esther Watts wanted to “know why they can’t get ratings

[for promotions], the white detachment gets ratings.” The enlisted women explained that they were doing the same job that civilians had been hired to do and for less money, longer hours, and without the freedom to quit.397 They also claimed that the civilians also ordered them around and left work for them when their shifts ended.398 As Stoney later summarized the women’s complaints against their civilian counterparts, “The Wacs were doing the work and the civilians were getting the pay.”399

On March 8, just two days after Mrs. Smith took her niece’s letter to the NAACP office in Philadelphia, the tension between the two groups erupted in a scuffle between a black Wac and a white civilian. The incident began when Pvt. Ora Mae Bell entered a

396 Memo, Major Miller to Colonel Putney, “Record of Complaints,” 7 March 1945, included in the War Department Investigation as Exhibit D.

397 According to Lt. Lawson, civilian workers made $38-$40/week whereas the privates in the Army earned $50 a month plus room and board. Victoria Lawson interview, 6 April 1945, War Department Investigation, 72.

398 “Record of Complaints.”

399 Stoney interview, 6 April 1945, War Department Investigation,” 16.

181 ward kitchen, approached a sink, and attempted to fill a glass with water for a patient.

Civilian worker Germaine Morissett insisted she use another sink because she was about to scald the dishes in that one. At this point, the stories differ, though each accused the other of slapping her. Morissett added that Bell tried to choke her and then beat her once she had fallen to the floor. Bell claimed instead that Morissett had shoved her before slapping her, though she could not remember further details. The fracas quickly caught the attention of the ward master who entered the kitchen and helped the civilian up from the floor. Bell said she was not hurt and left to report the incident to Lt. Stoney. Morissett filed her report with ward nurse, Lt. Gladys B. Self.400

Lawson, who later testified that the fight was her first indication of a conflict between the black Wacs and white civilians, told investigators that after the incident, she prepared a plan whereby the blacks Wacs would work on some wards and civilians on others. This, she assumed, would eliminate “the opportunity … to quibble about the amount of work assigned to them.” She then notified Crandall of the situation and requested that Stoney explain the new policy to her troops. Stoney posted a notice announcing a meeting, for orderlies only, that evening. They would meet in the day room of Barracks No. 2. 401

At the meeting, Stoney outlined the new arrangements to divide the wards at

Lovell Hospital South between the civilian and black Wacs orderlies. Immediately the

400 Summary, War Department Investigation, 9.

401 Request sent to Colonel Crandall: “8 March 1945. Segregation of Ward attendants (Civilians and Wacs);” also see Lawson interview, War Department Investigation, 72.

182 women pounced on the plan, protesting that it held them responsible for the work that the civilians left behind.402 Stoney tried to explain that the new routine did not mean alternating duties, but separating civilians and Wacs so that each group would have its own work areas and duties. Her clarification of the policy, however, did little to placate her troops. The civilians, they argued, had been hired to scrub floors and were being paid well to do so. They, on the other hand, had joined the Army to do technical work, but instead were confined to non-skilled cleaning jobs that white Wacs did not generally have to do. After nearly five months of orderly work with no training or chance for advancement, they rejected Lawson’s solution in the belief that it would only further trap them into low-skilled duties through another layer of segregation. Separating civilians from black Wacs, they complained, did not deal with their grievances but ignored them.

Despite their issues with the hired workers, the black Wacs clearly saw the root of their problem as the Army’s betrayal of its promises to them, not the civilians.403

Investigators who later looked into whether white Wacs were given job preferences over black Wacs learned that prior to the transfer of the black detachment to

Lovell Hospital South, white Wacs had worked as orderlies and performed similar housekeeping duties.404 Significantly, they were given training, though Lawson insisted

402 Principal Chief Nurse Major Eileen Murphy later clarified that the Wacs and civilians would be separated, not rotated, thereby precluding a situation in which the Wacs would have to finish work left undone. Eileen Murphy interview, 6 April, 1945, War Department Investigation.

403 This was a common complaint. The day before the meeting, Pvt. Georgia Bradley from Phoenix, Arizona had voiced the same to the inspection team officers: “When we came into the Army, they promised a chance to let us learn something.” “Record of Complaints,” 7.

404 War Department Investigation, 3-4.

183 that “it was rather hard to conduct any [regular] program” since the nursing staff continually changed.405 Fragmented and inferior as Lawson reported their training to be, it was more than black Wacs received and led to the perception that the Army at least made an effort to prepare white women for technical jobs and move them to more satisfactory positions when available. Many white Wacs therefore had, in fact, worked as orderlies, that is, until the majority of them were able to move into more specialized assignments when black Wacs arrived at Ft. Devens.

When the First Service Command ordered Colonel Crandall to requisition 120 black Wacs, it left it to Colonel Crandall to decide where to place the women. By calculating the assignments, Crandall managed to use the new arrivals as replacements for white Wacs. This took some doing on his part. Because the unit of African Americans would push his total number of Wacs at Lovell Hospital over his authorized quota of 250,

Crandall had to report 88 white Wacs as surplus personnel. This group would then be reassigned to other posts. Crandall filled the list entirely with white “aidmen” (also known as orderlies). This left slots available for a similar number of aidmen, which he filled with black Wacs. Other than the necessary cadre, cooks, and drivers needed for a detachment, Crandall ensured that the vast majority of the black Wacs transferred to

Lovell Hospital would work as aidmen. Recruits like Alice Young, who had been promised training and assignments as military technicians, would be among them.

Naturally, this organization created a glaring racial imbalance of responsibilities at Ft. Devens as white Wacs filled all technical jobs in the hospital while nearly all black

405 Ibid. Victoria Lawson, interview, 6 April 1945, 67-68.

184 Wacs were orderlies. Racial segregation heightened this effect. A post-trial investigation of the strike attempted to explain why it might appear to black Wacs that white Wacs were not orderlies. It noted that “most of the white enlisted women who had been working as orderlies at Lovell Hospital South were transferred to similar duty on the wards at Lovell Hospital North.”406 Black Wacs, however, would not encounter white orderlies at Lovell Hospital South. In fact, they would not see many of them anywhere at

Ft. Devens. In the final tally of early March 1945, just 13 of the 180 white Wacs worked as orderlies compared to 75 of the 100 black Wacs.

When War Department strike investigators asked Colonel Crandall why he had not requested black technicians along with aidmen in order to create a more equitable distribution of personnel, he responded that he did not need technicians, just aidmen.

They then asked why he reported so many white aidmen surplus if he was experiencing a shortage of them. His response was the same, that he needed more aidmen. No matter how investigators framed the question, Crandall did not veer from his initial reply.

Apparently, it had not occurred to him to retain more white orderlies or to request black technicians. Nevertheless, when asked if racial discrimination existed in job assignments at Lovell Hospital, Crandall replied that it did not. Despite his assurances, a racial balance was clearly missing. (See Table 2.)

406 War Department Investigation, 4-5.

185 Enlisted Basics Mess Motor Other Medical Hospital Clerical Cadre Wac personnel transport techni- aidmen techni- duties cal or ward cians duties masters White 8% 12% 6% 12% 19% 40% 3% Wacs Black 4% 11% 6% 75% 4% Wacs Table 2. Comparison of White Wac and Black Wac Assignments, March 9, 1945 407

The women meeting with Stoney on the evening of March 8 did not have these statistics, nor did they need them. They were keenly aware of the difference race made in job assignments under Crandall. Therefore, instead of allaying their frustrations, Stoney’s description of the new policy that would separate black Wacs and civilians only galvanized many of the women into taking action. That evening, however, no one quite knew what type of action to take.

Some of the enlisted women later said that Stoney had first broached the idea of a strike as a possible recourse, adding that she also cautioned them to “not plan anything in front of her.” Stoney denied the claim. Either way, the strike option undoubtedly was on the table since three Wacs had already been conducting their own mini work-stoppage for a month.408 These were recent arrivals who were classified as medical technicians: Pvt.

Inez Baham, and T/5 Thelma Allen, and Pvt. Harriet Warfield, the Wac who had just days before written her aunt in Philadelphia about problems at Ft. Devens. All three

407 Ibid., compiled from data recorded in the Summary.

408 Ibid. Summary, 17.

186 refused to do wardmen work given their technical ratings and were awaiting transfers to new assignments appropriate to their training.409

In her summary of events to her aunt, Warfield had explained that she and two other Wacs had settled on the work stoppage measure soon after they arrived. It was a drastic move, but then so was the contrast between her treatment at Ft. Devens and her last assignment at Ft. Oglethorpe, Georgia.410 Having enlisted on March 27, 1943,

Warfield had earned some hometown fame as one of the first black Wac recruits from

Philadelphia. When stationed at Ft. Des Moines and then Ft. Oglethorpe, she recalled having enjoyed her Army experience and was proud of her exemplary record that included a Good Conduct Medal. She had also been selected to join the 6888th Postal

Battalion, a great honor since it was the first unit of black Wacs that Hobby had at last released to serve overseas. Warfield’s aunt claimed that her niece missed the transport to

Europe because she took emergency leave to be with her ailing grandmother. Warfield, however, explained in a letter to Representative William T. Granahan that the Army had held her back since her services as a medical technician were required stateside, a point

409 Ibid.

410 Enid Clark, a black Wac who most likely trained in the same medical technician program at Ft. Oglethorpe as Warfield, described the experience positively. She claimed that black Wacs received “all the technical training that men had.” Like Clark, Warfield had been part of the unit assigned to Europe with the 6888th Postal Battalion, but had been sent to Ft. Devens instead due to the stateside medical technician shortage. Though located in the south, black Wacs recalled enjoying their time on base at Ft. Oglethorpe where extreme southern segregation was not practiced. Brenda L. Moore, To Serve My Country, 98-101.

187 that a subsequent investigation corroborated. In any case, the Army reassigned her to Ft.

Devens where she arrived on February 8, 1945, just a month before the strike.411

Like the other orderlies in the black WAC Detachment, Warfield learned that her duties included cleaning, scrubbing, and running errands at Lovell Hospital. Unlike the others, however, she had the confidence of a veteran with a solid military record, two years’ experience in the WAC, and at least a Category III rating required for the technician’s classification she possessed. Since she arrived four months after the main contingent of Wacs, she also had the advantage of knowing, upon arrival, that as a black

Wac at Ft. Devens, her only duties would be cleaning jobs. Whereas the others had initially expected to earn transfers and promotions if they worked hard, Warfield realized this would not be the case. After reporting for duty on her first day, she pointedly refused to work below her job classification. Along with Baham and Allen, whose medical technician placements had also kept them from shipping overseas with the 6888th Postal

Battalion, Warfield protested any automatic downgrading of her assignment classification.

Stoney spoke to the three women about complying with military orders, but they remained firm. Warfield explained that she would work as an orderly if overseas, but was told that she was needed stateside because of the Army’s desperate shortage of medical technicians. Stoney apprised Lawson of the situation whereupon Lawson retorted that the

411 Letter, Carolyn Moore to Thurgood Marshall, March 6, 1945, “Discrimination in the U.S. Armed Forces, 1918-1955,” NAACP Papers, Reel 12 (0934), Part 9, Series C, (Columbus: Ohio State University) microfilm; also see letter, Rep. William T. Granahan to Secretary Stimson, March 15, 1945, RG 159, NA.

188 women’s decision to not work constituted a mutiny. Rather than bringing the women up on charges, Stoney suggested they put them in for a transfer. In the meantime, she would keep them busy with chores around the barracks. The two lieutenants consulted Crandall who agreed to the plan and, on February 14, reported them “surplus in skill.” With the transfers logged, Stoney, along with Warfield, Baham, and Allen, most likely hoped that the situation would be temporary and then soon forgotten. Instead, their strike undoubtedly factored heavily into the discussion following Stoney’s meeting.

The formal session with Stoney the evening of March 8 lasted just over half an hour, during which time Stoney urged the women to work the way they had in October.

Since working hard had not gotten them very far, this advice did not go over well with her troops. As Morrison later explained, “It looked like not only the people over in the hospital were against us, but our own company commander.”412 Afterwards, the women dispersed. At least one, Pvt. Olga Jackson, took in a movie that evening. Most headed directly to their bunk areas. In Barracks No. 1, the women discussed the meeting, yet even when someone announced that others were going to strike the next morning, they settled down for the night assuming they would, as usual, be at their wards by 7 a.m.413 A small group gathered in the dayroom of Barracks No. 2 and angrily continued the discussion from the meeting. They also considered their options. Anna Morrison, one of the more vocal proponents of direct action, argued that they had been “working like

412 Anna Morrison, interview, 11 April 1945, “War Department Investigation.”

413 Ibid. Mae E. Lewis, interview, 9 April 1945, 195. According to Lewis, some Wacs from either Barracks No. 2 or downstairs in their barracks, No. 1, came over to let them know about the strike.

189 dogs,” but despite their hard work, their commanders ignored their oft-repeated complaints.414 Alice Young and others directed their anger at Stoney, who they blamed for not going to bat for them. All agreed that there was little likelihood that their former supply officer and current commander would take up their cause. That evening, the group in Barracks No. 2’s dayroom concluded that they would not get attention for their grievances without demanding it. In this case, a collective action offered the best chance for success.

The women discussed what type of collective action to take and soon settled on a work stoppage as appropriate and to-the-point. In fact, the detachment was gaining some experience with this type of resistance. Besides the three technicians, Warfield, Adams, and Baham, another member of their detachment, Pvt. Elizabeth Parker, had also taken leave of her duties the week before the strike.415 Since most of the other Wacs had left the dayroom right after the meeting, they had little opportunity to gain consensus from the others that evening. The plan, therefore, had a chance to incubate overnight. The next morning, on March 9, 1945, there was much excitement—and trepidation—about going ahead with a strike action.

After reveille at 6 a.m., the women in Barracks No. 1 dressed in their blue smocks, GI’d their areas, and went to breakfast. The situation was far different in

Barracks No. 2 where the women were in hot debate over what to do. By 6.45 a.m., some

414 Ibid. Morrison, interview, 8.

415 Ibid. Summary. By the time of the strike, Parker’s ward personnel and Lt. Stoney were still grappling with her situation. They had been phoning each other to see whether she was at work or in her barracks and discussing how to manage her case. Neither the press nor court-martial law members mention her absences while the final investigation only briefly refers to Parker.

190 had dressed though others were still in their bedclothes. Morrison, determined to go through with the strike, was one of them. Over the next few hours, she joined those who tried their hand at cajoling, persuading, and even threatening others to go along with the action. Pvt. Lula M. Johnson testified that some of the women (she claimed she could not remember who) warned her, “It’s all right if you go; you will see what we will do to you.”416

During the investigation of the incident, Morrison brushed Johnson’s remark off as a joke. She claimed that even Johnson had a good laugh at it at the time because she had not been serious about going to work. Nonetheless, others reported similar warnings, especially by Morrison who, along with a few others, was making the rounds of the bunk areas. In Barracks No. 1, the group spotted Pvt. Ruth B. Waller getting dressed to go to work. “I may not like a thing,” she later explained, “but what use is there standing up and arguing about it?”417 The four obviously thought differently and suggested that she change her morning plans. “They were very convincing,” Waller said, particularly

Morrison who “told me she was going to whip the hell out of me."418 Though Waller claims that she did not “pay any attention,” others likely did succumb to the fear of being beaten and shunned. Just five Wacs reported to work that day, including Waller and her friend Pvt. Thelma Thomas. Aware of the hostility the women would likely face upon

416 Ibid. Lula M. Johnson, interview, 124.

417 Ibid. Ruth B. Waller, interview, 7 April, 1945, 107.

418 Ibid., 95-98. According to Waller, Johnnie Murphy approached her and threatened that “she was going to join the gang that was going to whip me.” At the time, Murphy was convalescing in the hospital that morning, and would not be released until that afternoon. No other Wacs mention her presence in the barracks that morning.

191 return to the barracks that evening, Lawson summoned the two after their shift and asked if they wanted to spend the night at Lovell Hospital North. They accepted the offer.

Besides the five who went to work that morning, others simply stayed in their rooms and waited to see what would pan out. Not all of them took an active part. Tommie

May Cartwright would later confide that “I wasn’t sympathizing with them…. I just wanted to see what happened.”419 According to Pvt. Lorraine Overton, when she awakened to find the barracks still full, she quipped, “You all strike while I sleep,” pulled her blanket over her head, and didn’t get up for another hour.420 During their court- martial, Young and Morrison testified that they did not know if there would be a strike that morning. While true, the two were part of about a dozen Wacs who were doing their best to bring it about.421 According to several reports, this included Overton, who apparently got a little less sleep that morning than she claimed. Others recalled her coaxing and even threatening members of the detachment to join the strike.422 Most of the women, however, though recognizing the seriousness of the act, had reached a point where they were ready to take a chance to rectify their situation. “It may be wrong,”

419 Ibid. Tommie May Cartwright, interview, 7 April 1945, 164.

420 Ibid. Lorraine Overton, interview.

421 Ibid. Waller, interview, 101. Besides Morrison, Overton, and Young, those most often mentioned as pushing for a strike were Pvts. Verna Jones, Alberta Doss, Mary Rogers, and Lois Floyd. According to Waller, “Morrison was the head of the whole thing.”

422 Ibid., 95-98. A month after the incident and during a confidential interview, Waller volunteered Overton’s name as one of those who tried to deter her from going to work. On the other hand, she also named Murphy who could not have been in the barracks as she was still convalescing in the hospital that day. Nevertheless, others also mention Overton’s name in the same context.

192 admitted Pvt. Amanda McCord, “but I think we all want to do as much as we can to better ourselves.” Further explaining why she joined the strike, McCord noted that “I didn’t want a dishonorable discharge to take back home to my family, but I felt that someone would listen to us at least a little bit.” 423 That morning, a few individuals led the charge for a strike while others were unwilling to be a part of it. The majority were in-between, although most of those needed little coaxing to join the strike.

Nevertheless, the decision to strike invited risks, and the Wacs worried about the consequences. At the same time, they wanted the opportunity to make a statement and felt it important to be part of the collective action attempting to do so. “I knew that in time of war the soldier wasn’t supposed to strike. And I knew that it was a serious offense,” admitted Pvt. Willie Mae Miller. She did not go to work that morning, she said, because she was unwilling to let down the others. The ones intending to strike were, after all, protesting on behalf of all of black Wacs in their detachment.424 “No, I didn’t go to work,” said Pvt. Ola Jackson, “because it was a matter of cooperation, that if all the girls refused to go to work, then it was up to me to stay.”425 Many others voiced similar solidarity. Though the strike wasn’t her idea, Pvt. Kelly said, “by my being their color, why I stayed, too.”426

423 Ibid. Amanda E. McCord, interview.

424 Ibid. Willie Mae Miller, interview, 18 April 1945.

425 Ibid. Ola Jackson, interview, 7 April 1945, 172.

426 Ibid. Kelly, interview.

193 The collective nature of the strike emboldened many, but there were others who ended up striking by default. Fears over the consequences and conflicting obligations to the military, the Wacs in their detachment, and their race contributed to the haphazard manner in which the strike evolved that morning. Miller’s reason for joining the strike was typical. “It seems nobody was going [to work], and quite naturally, I wasn’t going if nobody else wasn’t going.”427 By biding their time to see how events would play out, their absences were noticed before they had made a conscious leap to activism. Lewis, for example, expected that Lawson and Stoney would call a meeting, discuss the situation, and “then we would all go back to work.” Like others that morning, she said that she

“didn’t have any intention of not going [to work] at all.”428 When the opportunity to protest presented itself, however, Lewis required no more encouragement to stay in the barracks than did Pvt. Mattie Cadett who joined the strike because, as she summarized her reasons, “I was just fed up.” 429 Though expressed in different ways, being “fed up” registered highly among the majority of the Wacs at Ft. Devens who participated in the strike.430 Morrison, Young, Murphy, and Green would cite it as a reason, noting that they just couldn’t go on. Obviously, this sentiment was a factor in the four suicide attempts.

As the morning wore on, a sense of solidarity took hold of the majority of the enlisted women in the detachment. Eventually ninety percent of the black Wac orderlies

427 Ibid. Willie Mae Miller, interview, 18 April 1945.

428 Ibid. Lewis, interview, 9 April 1945, 195.

429 Ibid. Mattie Cadett, interview.

430 Ibid. Miller, interview. When asked for the reasons others went on strike, Miller responded, “Well, they all said that they were fed up with the way we were treated.”

194 on duty that day would not report to their work stations. As noted, not all were enthusiastic supporters of the strike, but they protected those who were. When investigating officers later tried to ferret out “ringleaders,” most of those who took part in the strike on March 9 claimed that they did not know names. In contrast, when asked about their actions that same morning, many described them in vivid detail. When it came to naming names of suspected ringleaders, however, they responded as if hopelessly stumped. Some Wacs attributed their jumbled memories to a situation in which “It seemed that everyone planned together.”431 Others described fears of retaliation should they mention others, prompting investigators to assure them that their responses were confidential. A few then reluctantly offered names though, more often than not, they simply confirmed (or negated) those on the investigators’ list. Much to the frustration of the investigating officers, most denied being able to remember who said what, claiming not to know the names of many of their bunkmates and other members of their detachment. In their self-contained company of just a hundred persons, the Wacs had lived, worked, and socialized with each other for at least five months at Ft. Devens, and possibly longer at Ft. Des Moines. Apparently, most preferred to stand in solidarity with each other and protect those whom Army investigators labeled ringleaders.

Interestingly, of all of the extensive interviews, testimonies, and various reports of the incident, no black Wacs (or anyone else) referenced – or were reported to reference – a single civil rights organization, related incident in the black press, or prominent activist.

Given their officers’ dismissal of the civil rights movement as instigators of racial

431 Ibid.

195 discontent, if not subversives to the war effort, it is understandable that the women would not have connected their act to any specific group or person in formal military venues. In private, however, it is unlikely that they did not. Racial incidents proliferated in the black press, including several major courts-martial. Details of the Port Chicago and the Hawaii

Mutinies were front page news in the months and even days leading up to the strike. The black Wacs certainly would have taken keen interest in several cases of other black Wacs whose protests of similar menial assignments also made the news. Undoubtedly, the

Wacs would have discussed these trials before and during the strike, if only to infer possible consequences. Nevertheless, no references to these incidents appear in the records, nor do civil rights organizations or prominent persons whom they might have considered seeking counsel or support.

The absence is more curious given that African Americans at Ft. Devens, in particular, had remarkable access to the various components of the vast national network of the civil rights movement. They lived on a busy northeast post with thousands of black service personnel and situated near a large urban center of African Americans. Boston, not fifty miles away, boasted of its own black newspapers, The Boston Chronicle.

Additionally, stationed at a military transit post for the region, the Wacs would have had available a wide variety of black press publications from other parts of the country.

Boston also supported a myriad of civil rights organizations, including branches of the

NAACP and CORE. Furthermore, all of the women had trained at Ft. Des Moines, the only training facility for new black recruits since 1943. Ft. Des Moines frequently hosted

Bethune who, as all black Wacs knew, was keeping tabs on the WAC’s treatment of its

African American personnel. Meanwhile, there were plenty of members of the 196 detachment who obviously viewed their action as in keeping with the movement’s goals as they voiced their right, even their duty, to protest discrimination. Morrison was adamant on the issue. “If it will help my people by me taking a court-martial,” she would soon announce, “I would be willing to take it.”432

Certainly, being “fed up” with menial assignments proved a motivating factor behind the strike, yet orderly work was not so different from the work many of those who participated did as civilians. It was not the orderly work that they most protested, but the flagrant differences between black and white Wac assignments. The WAC and the Army promised black Wacs better jobs and equal treatment to white Wacs, and they expected them to honor that commitment. When it did not, they had a choice. On March 9, 1945, as the militancy of the civil rights movement prevailed upon African Americans to do their part, the majority of the black Wacs at Ft. Devens chose not to remain silent.

That Friday at 7 a.m., the usual reporting time of orderlies at their wards, most members of the black WAC detachment at Ft. Devens were still in their barracks. Shortly afterwards, calls began flooding the detachment’s phone line in the orderly room of

Barrack’s No. 2. In the nearby supply room, Acting First Sergeant T/4 Clotha Bates

Walker was taking the weekly linen inventory when she began hearing the constant trill of the phone down the hall. Curious, she walked the short distance to the orderly room where she saw Sgt. Bates handling a succession of calls and murmuring in-between, “this one hadn’t report to work and that one hadn’t report to work.” Walker looked at Bates and asked, “Are all the kids going on strike today?” Bates replied, “I don’t know.” Before

432 Morrison, testimony, General Court-Martial, U.S. Army v. Young, 173.

197 Walker had asked the question, however, she knew they had.433 Fifty-four of the fifty-six black Wacs on duty that Friday morning did not report to their duty stations. It was

March 9, 1945, and the Ft. Devens strike had begun.

433 Clotha I. Walker interview, 16 April 1945, War Department Investigation, 277.

198 Chapter 5. The Strike

“If it will help my people by me taking a court-martial, I would be willing to take it.”434

On March 9, 1945, fifty-four members of the Ft. Devens black WAC Detachment filed into the day room of Barracks No. 2. At 9 a.m. on a Friday, they should have been at their duty stations at Lovell Hospital South, so by presenting themselves in the day room, they affirmed their participation in the strike action. All would have been aware, if to varying degrees, the risks they were taking. During World War II, collective actions by

African American service personnel were all too common as were the severe consequences so extensively covered in the black press. The women would have been especially attentive to collective actions among other black Wacs. One well-reported incident took place in June of 1943 when Wacs at Camp Breckenridge, Kentucky organized a work stoppage to protest cleaning and laundry room detail. The Army ushered six of them out of the corps during the WAAC to WAC conversion. 435 Given their larger numbers, male collective actions far outnumbered women’s. For instance, in

May 1944 at Mabry Field, Florida, the Army Air Force court-martialed five black

434 Anna Morrison, testimony, General Court-Martial, U.S. Army v. Young.

435 “6 WACs Resign, “WAC Clerks Decline to Scrub Floors, Philadelphia Afro American, July 10, 1943, 1; see also NAACP files for correspondence between Viola B. Vessup, one of the discharged Wacs, Truman Gibson, Jr, Assistant Civilian Aide to Stimson, and Leslie Perry, Administrative Assistant, NAACP in “Papers of the NAACP,” Part 9, Series C, MIC E185.5, N276, Reel 5 of 12.

199 privates who had refused to work until they could air their grievances of racial discrimination. Convicted, the soldiers received sentences ranging from thirteen to fifteen years.436 Two months later, after an ammunition explosion killed more than 300 black

Navy stevedores at Port Chicago, California, surviving members of the crew refused to return to work under the same unsafe conditions. The Navy court-martialed fifty of them, found them guilty, and handed down sentences ranging from eight to fifteen years.437

These cases and others blanketed the front pages of the black press while some of the most sensational incidents also found their way into the mainstream press. Each carried an unmistakable message that no service would accept racial discrimination as a cause for insubordination. In fact, the penalties for those who attempted to base their defense on discrimination suffered severe penalties. Undoubtedly, the black Wacs at Ft. Devens knew of these cases and of the inevitable unfavorable outcomes for African American service personnel. Nevertheless, on March 9, 1945, fifty-four of them took part in a joint action of insubordination – a mutiny, in military parlance – in an attempt to make known their grievances of racial discrimination.

Just an hour before the 9 a.m. meeting, 1Lt. Victoria Lawson, the commander of the three WAC detachments at Ft. Devens, had taken a call from Lovell Hospital South informing her that the Wacs had not reported to their wards at their scheduled duty time of 7 a.m. She promptly telephoned 1Lt. Tenola Stoney, the commander of the black

WAC detachment, who confirmed that the orderly members of the company were still in

436 Florence Murray, The Negro Handbook, 1946-47 (New York: Current Books, Inc., 1947), 350.

437 Murray, Negro Handbook 1946-47, 347-349.

200 their barracks. The two set out to the office of Colonel Walter Crandall, the commanding officer of the post’s two hospitals, to notify him of the action by the black Wacs.

Inquiring about the situation, Crandall asked the two lieutenants why the orderlies had refused to work. Lawson and Stoney replied that enlisted women felt that their work was not appreciated, and they were frustrated with the civilians who did similar work for fewer hours and more pay. Lawson then informed Crandall of the 9 a.m. meeting that she and Stoney had called for the orderlies and suggested that he attend. Crandall agreed to be there and to talk to the women.438

Lawson began the meeting with a brief introduction of Crandall, who then stood before the fifty-four Wacs. These included Pvts. Mary Green, Anna Morrison, Alice

Young, and two of the three medical technicians who, for over a month, had refused to work as orderlies. These were T/5 Thelma Allen and Pvt. Inez Baham. Two other Wacs who would soon prove central to the Ft. Devens incident were not present at the meeting that morning. Johnnie Murphy was at Lovell Hospital North recovering from an attack of grippe and Harriet Warfield was on a three-day pass in Boston.

In the five months since the women’s arrival at Ft. Devens, this was Crandall’s first meeting with them and his first genuine inquiry as to their conditions and concerns.

As a result of their strike, the Wacs at last had the opportunity to discuss their grievances with the person whom they held most responsible for their inequitable treatment.439 For

438 Lt. Victoria Lawson’s statement included in each defendant’s Charge Sheet record, General Court-Martial, U.S. Army v. Young.

439 Of the fifty-four Wacs in attendance, forty-one were officially on duty and thus on strike. An additional thirteen attended on their own time. War Department Investigation.

201 many of the women, this was their first encounter with Crandall, and they were unlikely to put him at ease. They had heard of his alleged comments that the black orderlies were

“not fit to do anything but scrub,” and that they were there to do the “dirty work.”

Another rumor had Crandall reprimanding a white civilian worker for letting “those niggers serve that food.”440 Though none of the Wacs mentioned Beulah Sims' recent suicide attempt during the meeting or in later interviews, Crandall’s failure to look into the matter certainly troubled many.

In later discussions with Army officials, Crandall would counter that the women’s accusations misrepresented his views of them while not taking into consideration his responsibilities as the commanding officer of two large hospitals. He would also claim that he did not harbor any prejudice against black women nor had he made derogatory statements toward them. He guessed that possible misinterpretations of his comments were likely due to his insistence that medical jobs, including taking temperatures, were the preserve of nurses in training, not inexperienced enlisted personnel. The situation was further complicated by the fact that he had more nurse cadets than work for them to do.

Regarding the incident with Young, he acknowledged that he had stopped the black orderly from taking the temperature of a patient, yet only after having already advised the nurse on duty that taking temperatures was “the cadet nurses’ job.” Crandall argued that he based job assignments solely on the qualifications of his personnel, not race. He also insisted that his concerns over hospital cleanliness alone had prompted his remarks that orderlies “should be doing the ward work.” During three investigation interviews,

440 Ibid. Alice Young, interview; also see Willie May Miller and Amanda McCord interviews.

202 Crandall maintained that before the strike he had no inkling of any general discontent among the black Wacs in his command, especially over his comments that, he believed, had been taken out of context.441

Crandall could state that the strike had come as “a great shock to me” because he had not been formally apprised of black Wac grievances. 442 None of the enlisted Wacs had registered official complaints with his office, relying instead, as Army protocol demanded, on their chain of command. They did lodge oral complaints with their detachment officers, Lt. Sophie Gay and Lt. Tenola Stoney, though neither officer submitted written reports. In regard to the paper trail, therefore, Crandall could argue that he had not known about the black Wacs’ situation before the March 9 strike.443 Army investigators, however, would not let him off so easily. How, they later questioned him, could he have been so oblivious to the discontent brewing among his troops given the magnitude of the grievances, the continuing work stoppages of the three Wac technicians, and Sims’ attempted suicide (the only one of the four to take place before the strike)?444

Crandall’s lack of interest in this category of troops certainly accounts for part of his aloofness towards them, but it was not the main reason. The Army’s denial of obvious inequality gave him and other officers grounds to ignore the complaints of their black troops.

441 Ibid. Walter Crandall, interview.

442 Ibid.

443 During the court-martial, Stoney would testify that she sent, through Lawson, a grievance to Crandall. General Court-Martial, U.S. Army v. Young.

444 Summary, War Department Investigation, 31-35.

203 The prevailing view among Army officers was that discrimination was not a problem in the military. They did not deny that racism among civilians crept into the military through new recruits, but accepted that this was a social issue beyond the purview of the Army. In general, they understood that racial discrimination was against

War Department directives and that as officers, they were expected to follow these directives, too, and enforce them among their troops. Of course, blatant racism did exist in the Army, but given their situation, officers were not in a position to readily admit that it was an issue in their commands. Without open and frank discussions about racial discrimination – what it was, what it looked like, what caused it – convenient explanations for the consistency of racial discord raced in to fill the void.

Additionally, Army officials with a file-full of race-based conflicts but little understanding as to the extent to racism often assumed that African Americans preferred to hide behind claims of racism rather than overcome personal deficiencies. Colonel

Frank McCoskrie, the post commander at Ft. Des Moines where nearly all black Wacs spent their first months in the service, complained that “the Negro problem is a difficult one at best, since both officer and enlisted personnel take every small advantage to press the racial question.”445 According to this reasoning, the problem wasn’t racism, but the ineptitude, laziness, and gullibility of personnel who, all too impulsively, allowed ringleaders to stir up trouble among otherwise content soldiers. It was an attitude endemic among white military personnel, from the Secretary of War, Henry L. Stimson, to career

445 Letter from Colonel McCoskrie to Colonel Catron, 19 August 1943, File: 291.2, Box 49, Entry 54, RG 165, NA.

204 officers like Crandall to the new breed of WAC officers including Lt. Victoria Lawson.

African American officers were not immune to this stereotyping. The WAC’s chief negotiator for black Wac issues, Harriet West, and the Ft. Devens detachment officer,

Tenola Stoney, also justified the menial assignments of their enlisted troops on the women’s over all inadequacies. In general, rather than looking into black service personnel’s complaints of racism, military officers were likely to dismiss them as a nuisance.

Despite the tensions between Crandall and the Wacs on strike, the meeting that morning opened with civility. Crandall stood up, faced the women, and calmly noted the seriousness of their action. In the Army, he explained, military personnel had no right to strike and doing so constituted a mutiny that would invoke severe consequences.446 He then expressed his interest in understanding their concerns and asked them to list their complaints. The women began describing their low-skilled job assignments, belligerent civilian co-workers, and an overall impression that their hard work was not appreciated.

For his part, Crandall agreed that they should not have to scrub floors and wash windows and said he would look into these issues.447 When they asked about training programs, however, he replied, “Who is going to clean up the hospital?”448 The complaints kept coming. For Crandall, it was a lot to take in, yet he continued accepting comments and

446 Ibid. Crandall, interview, “War Department Investigation; Anna Morrison recalled, “You could tell he wasn’t interested, but he listened anyway.” Author’s interview with Anna Morrison, 26 March 2002.

447 Ibid. Stoney, interview, 23-24.

448 Ibid. Morrison, interview.

205 attempted to respond to each. According to Stoney, he seemed to be bringing them around when “he said he would do something about their schooling.”449

Crandall’s troops, however, were gaining confidence through their resistance.

Their strike had officially commenced at 7 a.m. when they had failed to report to their duty stations. This had resulted in, within just two hours, the hospital’s commanding officer standing before them and expressing his willingness to listen to their grievances and resolve their issues. As the meeting wore on, often two or more Wacs seized the occasion to stand up and expound on complaints already noted while others murmured their agreement and added audible off-side comments. Before long, complaints filled the room, usually from the same fifteen to twenty people who had previously aired their concerns.450 Five months of pent-up frustration broke open in the day room that morning and pushed the meeting into a second hour, though with an increasing intensity that sparked a rapid deterioration of military protocol. This included demonstrations of

“swearing, cursing, and stamping of feet.”451 According to Lawson, who was observing the mounting mayhem, “In almost every instance the girls who complained said they would not go back to slavery, and a number stated they would take death or a kind of court-martial or dependency discharge or anything to get out of Lovell.”452 Many of the

449 Ibid. Stoney, interview, 44.

450 Ibid. Summary, 22.

451 Lt. Lawson’s statement, March 19, 1945, contained in the General Court-Martial, U.S. Army v. Young.

452 Ibid.

206 women directly connected their grievances as black Wacs to the historical exploitation of black women’s labor.

Tensions eventually climaxed over an inadvertent remark by Colonel Crandall in response to a question by Pvt. Young. Young, who had spoken at least a couple of times by then, referred again to the incident in the hospital when Crandall had admonished her for not confining her labors to orderly duties. After this incident over taking a patient’s temperature, she decided to seek another position on base so she could escape orderly work. Hoping to work at the motor pool, Young spoke to the transportation officer,

Captain Barney H. Edwards, about training to be a driver. Edwards told her that “colored

Wacs” were ineligible, but that in any event she would need the permission of her commanding officer.453 The meeting with Crandall gave Young the opportunity to request

Crandall’s permission for a transfer to the motor pool. Understandably confused,

Crandall replied, “But you just told me a little while ago that they didn’t take black Wacs at the Motor School.”

As he awaited clarification, his troops sat momentarily stunned by his use of the term “black Wac.” In the sharp silence, approximately ten of the women, indignant over his phrasing, stood up and walked out. Suddenly, the day room erupted in shouting and cursing. Crandall, uncertain of what he had said to warrant this jolt of disapproval, was startled by the voraciousness of the women’s anger.454 Reports differ as to what happened

453 The Motor Pool School was at that time training black men, but not black women, Alice Young’s complaint, “Complaints from Colored WAC Detachment,” 7 March 1945 included in War Department Investigation, 22-23.

454 Ibid. Lawson, interview.

207 next as the explosive atmosphere descended into chaos. According to the investigation afterwards, “some of those remaining cried and cursed.”455 Pvt. Miller fainted face first onto the floor and had to be helped to her barracks. 456 Crandall attempted to approach

Young individually, but by this time, she was, according to Lawson, too “hysterical” to listen to him, and he backed away.

Crandall’s limited experience with the African Americans in his command, or in society, left him completely unaware of the resentment his phrasing (currently acceptable and used throughout this dissertation) would cause. In the 1940s, the informality of the term “black,” particularly by Crandall with his demonstrated racial attitudes, came across as exceedingly derogatory. Explaining the anger over the term decades later, Morrison noted that at the time it was like saying “nigger.”457 While “Negro” and “Colored” were generally acceptable, ‘nigger’ and ‘boy’ were not. Whites knew these four terms and their connotations. Segregation, however, left many unaware of and insensitive to the offensive nature of terms that lay in-between. African Americans, attuned to the dominant white culture in which they lived, understood this and often let less respectable forms of address pass despite the personal sting. Martha Putney, one of the first WAC officer candidates, recalled a white classmate referring to African Americans in the diminutive “you kids” when they trained together in the integrated course. Putney “let her go on because I knew she was southern and probably that was the best adjustment she

455 Ibid. Summary, 22.

456 Ibid. Stoney, interview, 24-25.

457 Author’s interview with Anna Morrison, 26 March 2002.

208 could make by using the word ‘kids’ instead of ‘niggers.’”458 On the morning of March 9, the Wacs participating in the strike at Ft. Devens were not so readily inclined to excuse their commanding officer for a similar slip, no matter how unintentional.

Crandall had not meant to offend and was genuinely surprised by the furor his phrasing had sparked. The problem was that after five months, he knew very little about this category of troops in his command and had not built up even a trace of goodwill.

According to Stoney, some of the Wacs angrily advanced towards Crandall until she intervened and ordered them to return to their barracks. Others began leaving on their own despite the absence of an official dismissal. As the room began to empty, Crandall called the women back. Some complied. Most didn’t. Crandall then closed the meeting and also took leave of the room with Lawson and Stoney following closely behind. As the three officers departed, a few of those remaining in the room, following military protocol, stood at attention as their officers passed.

Outside of the barracks, it was another matter. A dozen and a half black Wacs, approximately eighteen, followed behind Crandall calling him, “old mother fucker,”

“God damn son-of-a bitch,” and “old-gray-haired bastard,” among other profane characterizations.459 From the sideline, Acting First Sergeant T/4 Clotha Walker watched in astonishment and worry. “I hope they don’t hit him,” she would later recall thinking.

458Janet Sims-Wood, “We Served America Too! Personal Recollections of African American Women in the Women’s Army Corps during World War II” (Ph.D. diss, The Union Institute, 1994), 155.

459 Investigators later asked Stoney what the women had said to Crandall. She refused to repeat the epithets. Urging her to respond, the investigators, one man and one woman, assured her the interview was confidential and said the word themselves waiting for affirmation. Finally Stoney turned to the male investigator and, pointing to the female officer, said, “I’ll tell her.” Stoney, interview, War Department Investigation, 27. 209 Meanwhile, Young stood in front of Lawson shouting, “Push me! Push me!” until her friends were able to pull her away. Others seethed as they witnessed Pvt. Ruby Pierce approach Crandall and apologize for the unit’s atrocious behavior. It was not a popular act, and Pierce would pay for it. Upon her return to the barracks, a group of Wacs pounced on her. Several of the women reported seeing Lawson and Stoney on the verge of tears.460 Walker couldn’t hold back hers. As Stoney ordered the women to their barracks, she noticed that passersby, in vehicles and on foot, were stopping to watch and listen. “We were putting on a good show for them,” the lieutenant told investigators.461

Walker felt the same, noting, “It was pitiful that day.”462

It was also a day of an extraordinary breakdown of military discipline, and

Crandall, completely unprepared for the anarchy and verbal assaults, did not know what to make of it. Had the troops been black soldiers, he would have, without a doubt, called

MPs (Military Police) to the scene and had the men arrested and court-martialed, most likely for mutiny. With far less cause, other commanders in the various services had successfully prosecuted their black troops on this charge. Had the men been white, he also would have summoned the MPs, though perhaps bringing upon himself a serious investigation into his handling of his troops. The officer corps did not take the breakdown of military discipline lightly, especially disrespectful behavior to a military superior, and

Crandall knew it was his duty to take whatever action was necessary to restore order.

460 Ibid. Lawson, interview.

461 Ibid. Stoney, interview.

462 Ibid. Walker, interview.

210 Ordinarily, this would have prompted him or his junior officers to order, "a-ten-hut!”

Army-wide, this familiar command compelled troops to immediately come to attention, in complete silence and stiff alertness.

Crandall, who had not treated his black Wacs as ordinary troops and apparently did not consider them typical, did not issue the call to stand at attention. Instead, he seems to have resigned himself to his temporary loss of command of the women, as he was anxious to escape the melee for calmer quarters where he could consider his next move. Crandall had reason to be aghast at approximately two dozen of the black Wacs at the meeting that morning. Cursing, stomping, and shouting at their commanding officer was behavior beyond the pale of proper military decorum. A male soldier or two might vent before a superior officer, but clearer heads typically prevailed within larger groups.

With centuries of history of military service, men understood the severe consequences for belligerent behavior towards an officer. In contrast, under the Women’s Auxiliary Army

Corps just two years before, even the Army’s leading legal experts were unsure if they could penalize women in uniform for such non-civil offenses. The ferociousness of these attacks against Crandall, however, demonstrates less the women’s lack of experience with the Army’s disciplinary system than their utter frustration with Crandall’s dismissive treatment of them. At this point, Crandall may well have understood his role in the strike. His next steps would be taken with extreme caution.

The tumultuous meeting led to a buzz of activity at Ft. Devens that, at last, focused on the post’s black enlisted Wacs. Crandall retreated to his office where, at

Lawson’s suggestion, he called the WAC Staff Director of the First Service Command,

Major Elizabeth W. Stearns. Stationed in Boston, she agreed to come immediately to Ft. 211 Devens. Lawson left the scene only to return shortly afterwards for Stoney. The two officers proceeded to Crandall’s office where they waited for Stearns to arrive. When she did, the three WAC officers headed to the mess hall where they discussed the situation over dinner. Stearns and Lawson departed together, leaving Stoney on her own. After a brief stop at her quarters, Stoney returned to the WAC barracks. By this time, all orderlies who took part in the strike were restricted to the barracks. The order had come down late that afternoon.

Confined to their barracks, the enlisted women would soon encounter a stream of officers. The first, Stearns, arrived that evening and set herself up in Stoney’s office. She then sent word that she would hear the women’s grievances, though only in their company commander’s office. Approximately thirty Wacs trekked down to see her, taking the opportunity to describe their circumstances to the highest ranking WAC in the command. Stearns listened, repeated the seriousness of their action, but said little else.

Afterwards, she phoned the commanding officer of the First Service Command, Major

General Sherman B. Miles, and alerted him of the situation.

Miles at once dispatched two male officers whom he assumed could best relate to the women: Captain John Hurd, an African American stationed at Ft. Devens; and

Colonel Lawrence B. Wyant, the Command’s Morale Officer who, though white, had gained some notoriety as “a deep student of racial relations and a sincere friend of the

Negro people.”463 Though the two planned to meet the Wacs that evening, a car accident delayed Wyant’s arrival until after 11 p.m. It was too late to speak to the Wacs, so Wyant

463 Ibid. Miles, interview, 330.

212 instead conferenced with Stoney and Lawson until 1 a.m.464 He and Hurd would meet with the Wacs at 10 a.m. that morning. By then, the strike had moved into its second day.

On the morning of March 10, 1945, Stoney brought Wyant and Hurd to her detachment’s barracks and introduced them to the Wacs who were persisting in their strike. The male officers, eager to end the strike, brought General Miles’ guarantee that he would order an investigation of the women’s grievances –- though only after they returned to duty. Though the men were under Miles’ orders not to discuss or take complaints, they let some of the women have their say. They then repeated Crandall’s and Stearns’ warnings of grave disciplinary consequences should they continue their strike. As Stoney recalled, Wyant counseled the women that, “everyone couldn’t do exactly what they wanted to, that some would have to do the little jobs, that all the jobs counted.”465 The Wacs listened, but they did not return to work.

The women’s determination to continue the strike proved perplexing to Crandall and Miles. Between them, they had selected the three officers they assumed could best relate to the black Wacs. After all, Stearns was a Wac, Hurd an African American, and

Wyant a noted “friend of the Negro people.”466 Despite these connections, the three failed to find common ground with the striking Wacs much less gain their confidence. In fact, these individuals had far less in common with the women than they and their superiors

464 Hurd, who was stationed at Ft. Devens, was not at this meeting. Another officer, Captain Chapman, was. Lawson’s official Statement of the incident, General Court-Martial, U.S. Army v. Young.

465 Ibid. Stoney, interview, 38. The meeting lasted forty-five minutes.

466 Ibid. Miles, interview, 330.

213 presumed. From their distinct vantage points, Stearns, Hurd, and Wyant were unable to grasp the women’s unusual circumstances as black Wacs. Had the enlisted personnel been white, they would have had access to a variety of jobs as did the white Wacs at Ft.

Devens. Had they been male, they would not have been blocked from other options to orderly work, such as assignment to the motor pool which trained black soldiers as drivers. Instead, their dual identities persistently excluded them from much of the Army’s regular operations, from personnel requisition orders to training programs, and, until two months before the strike, overseas duty. Stearns apparently related well to white Wacs and Hurd and Wyant to black male soldiers, but they were at a loss to understand the circumstances, and thus the motivations, of the black Wacs at Ft. Devens.

Rank presented an additional divide between the officers and the enlisted women.

Stearns, Hurd, and Wyant were commissioned officers and therefore part of the upper echelon of military personnel. As privates, the black orderlies occupied the lowest levels of the rank structure with commensurate levels of expectations and respect. Nevertheless, the military rank system, with its rigid segmentation of personnel, was not an entirely disagreeable one for them or the vast majority of American military personnel. Indeed, for black women, the WAC’s assurance of a standard merit-based system of upward mobility was a major draw. At Ft. Devens, the detachment’s three medical technicians, first sergeant (Walker), and two lieutenants (Gay and Stoney) were proof that training and promotions were possible for black Wacs – at least in some cases. As orderlies, most of Ft. Devens black Wacs did not have the opportunity to undergo training or earn promotions. Instead, their subordinate racial and sexual identities had merged to exclude them from all but peripheral base operations. With their fixed assignments and stagnated 214 rank status, they had few opportunities for upward mobility. Officers who rose in the ranks could feel entitled to their privileges. The flipside of their success in a system they believed to be wholly merit-based was an assumption that those who remained privates during their military careers had, in fact, reached their full potential.

Stearns used her officer status to set the terms for her encounter with the enlisted black Wacs. Those who wished to state their grievances would have to come to her.

Given Crandall’s disastrous morning meeting when he had been greatly outnumbered, it was a sensible approach. It was not, however, a way to end the strike. About half of the

Wacs took up her offer. Others sent word that they would only meet her in their areas.

Expecting Stearns to come to them was an audacious move and a further sign of a breakdown of military discipline at Ft. Devens. This breakdown, however, was not all one-sided.

Crandall and Stearns may have been aghast at the disrespect the black Wac privates showed them and their rank, yet for over four months they had, in violation of

Army policies, demonstrated negligible respect for the women. As members of the armed services, black Wacs were entitled to proper consideration for training, assignments, and promotions. Instead, Crandall and Stearns preparations for the new troops’ arrival consisted of little more than plans to isolate the women in their housing, detachment operations, and assignments. Indeed, Crandall put in a requisition for nearly all orderlies and Stearns rubber-stamped it without query. Furthermore, military protocol demanded an orientation program, in part to introduce arrivals to their local chain of command. This never happened. Therefore, not only did many of the Wacs not recognize Crandall, most claimed to have never heard of Stearns until March 9 when she summoned those wishing 215 to lodge their complaints. In fact, she was the highest ranking WAC in the First Service

Command. Prior to the strike, these and other officers had neither demonstrated an interest in their black, female troops nor shown them respect as service personnel.

Only through the strike were the Wacs able to command the attention of their officers from Stoney to Stearns. Only through continued resistance had they gained additional attention for their grievances from two other high ranking authorities, Wyant and Hurd. Each of these officers listened to the women and offered to look into their grievances. Nevertheless, none succeeded in recognizing the enlisted black Wacs’ core issues of respect, fairness, and trust. As a result, none were able to pierce the growing resolve of the Wacs’ to continue the strike.

Though Miles’ headquarters building was located in Boston, he learned of his trusted officers’ failure to break the strike while sitting in Crandall’s office at Ft. Devens, just blocks away from the black WAC detachment’s barracks. Earlier that day, he had pushed aside all other business planned for the day, gathered a coterie of officers, and driven the fifty miles from Boston to Ft. Devens. Arriving at 10 a.m., he had personally conferred with Hurd and Wyant before sending the two with Stoney to their meeting with the Wacs. Before they left, he had instructed the three officers to keep his presence on base quiet. The women were not to know he was there. Miles wanted to give the men the opportunity to end the strike, yet he was also prepared – on-site and with his legal team in tow – to handle the mutiny himself if necessary.

Later, Army investigators asked Miles to explain his extraordinary rapid and thorough attention as the command’s highest ranking officer to the actions of fifty low- ranking enlisted personnel. Miles replied that “the order of a lieutenant is just as good as 216 the order of a General, but the prestige is different, and I was dealing with a rather ignorant and rather misguided group of women.”467 Clearly Miles understood the threat that a collective action of insubordination could pose to a command, even by those he considered unintelligent. Upon word from Hurd and Wyant that the strike was still on,

Miles ordered the recalcitrant black Wacs to assemble in the day room. He then led his band of officers to the meeting where he intended to personally order the Wacs to work.

Miles had tried working through his officers, but with the strike well into its second day, he had no choice but to intervene and end his most serious violation of military law.

At approximately 12:10 p.m., Miles addressed the women on strike. In his no- nonsense manner that brooked no discussion, he proceeded to outline the women’s situation, their options, and the consequences they could soon face. He pointed out that as military personnel, they were duty-bound to obey the orders of their superiors. Refusing to work was not an option in the Army, but an offense punishable by court-martial. Using the carrot and stick approach, he repeated his earlier guarantees, as he had authorized

Hurd and Wyant to announce, that the complaints of those who returned to their duty stations would be heard and fully investigated. He then introduced his Inspector General,

Lt. Col. Sumner W. Elton, and invited the women to register their grievances with him.

As an added incentive, General Miles offered to drop all charges of prosecutable misconduct thus far accumulated. He also made it clear that “very few members of the

Army are given the consideration that I am giving you today” and urged them to take advantage of his fair and generous offer. Miles equally emphasized the serious

467 Ibid., 329.

217 consequences of non-compliance, warning that his Judge Advocate, Col. Edward W.

Putney, who he had also brought with him, would immediately begin court-martial proceedings against those who did not return to their wards. “Refusal of duty cannot be tolerated in any Army,” he warned. Miles then directed his Judge Advocate to read the

64th Article of War detailing the charge of disobeying a commanding officer.468

While addressing the women, Miles did not label the strike a “mutiny” though he considered it nothing less. Only practical necessity deterred him from threatening the women with Article 66, pertaining to mutinies. In fact, Miles wished to avoid invoking the term “mutiny” which he considered contagious. Race riots, civilian and military, were common during the war. With 3,700 other black troops on base, he had no desire to inadvertently spark similar actions. Miles was also concerned with the negative effects that tales of a “WAC mutiny” could have on Wac recruitment. As he later explained to investigators, “We were in the midst of a drive to recruit Wacs for hospitals, and here was an open mutiny among Wacs in a hospital.”469 For these reasons, Miles, who could have easily justified invoking Article 66, opted for the lesser charge of Article 64, a catchall indictment that covered a wide range of crimes, from willful disobedience of a superior to violence against an officer. The maximum punishments for both Article 64 and Article 66 were the same: “Death or such other punishment as a court-martial may direct.”470 Judges

468 Ibid., Exhibit V; also see Leisa D. Meyer, Creating GI Jane: Sexuality and Power in the Women's Army Corps during World War II (New York: Columbia University Press, 1996), 96-99.

469 Miles, interview, “War Department Investigation.”

470 “United States Code” (Washington, U.S. Government Printing Office, 1940), 613; A Manual for Courts-Martial: U. S. Army (Corrected to April 20, 1943), Washington D.C.: United States Government Printing Office, 1943, 204 -205

218 had much leeway in meting out punishment, though with the understanding that they would use judicious restraint as needed.

Miles thoroughly clarified the situation to the Wacs in order to avoid any misunderstandings. Then, with his secretary writing down his precise wording, he issued a direct order: “You will immediately fall in ranks in front of this building and be marched to your posts of duty, and you will continue thereafter to do your duty. Fall out and fall in front of this building.”471 Without a word, the women stood up and cleared out of the dayroom. Their compliance, however, lasted only until they had exited the building. Once outside, and with a wall separating them from Miles and his officers, they advanced no further to their hospital duty stations. Too frightened to disobey yet too invested in the strike to drop it, they stood despondently, uncertain what to do. Stoney ordered them to fall in (formation). No one did. The lieutenant then asked the women to fall in. Still no one moved. Finally one of the older women said, “Please, let’s not do this to her. Look she’s trembling, almost crying.” The others turned to Stoney who appeared on the verge of tears. “She didn’t do anything to us,” added the older woman. As the lone black female officer at Ft. Devens, Stoney was also in a difficult position, and the others understood that. At this point, they agreed to fall in and march to their jobs. Green,

Morrison, and Young were among them.472 “We did it for her,” Morrison said.

Back in the dayroom, three Wacs remained seated. One had just been discharged, so had no duty station to which to report. The other two, however, stood in clear violation

471 Summary, War Department Investigation, 27.

472 Author’s interview with Anna Morrison, 26 March 2002.

219 of Miles’ order. They were T/5 Thelma Allen and Pvt. Inez Baham who, along with Pvt.

Warfield (still on pass), had been maintaining a far more subdued strike for a few weeks.

The two were taken into custody. As the day progressed, three others, Pvts. Morrison,

Green, and Young, would join them. The following Monday, Murphy’s arrest would bring the number of Wacs facing court-martial to six. Of this group, only Morrison,

Green, Young, and Murphy would stand trial. Their individual circumstances following the March 10 meeting with Miles therefore deserve specific attention.

Wholly distraught, Pvt. Morrison marched with the others to Lovell Hospital

South and reported to her ward shortly after 1 p.m.473 Upon entering, she saw Sgt.

Johnnie Froias (her ward master), a patient sitting on one of the tables, and her friend Pvt.

Alberta Doss, who had arrived just five minutes before. Froias’ greeting to Morrison went unanswered. Without uttering a word, she sat down by the window, looked out, and cried. When Froias asked her what was wrong, she shot back, “Don’t speak to me, none of you!”474 Doss approached Morrison, put her arm around her, and suggested that they both go out for some air. According to Morrison, Doss told her that Froias had released them for the day – a point the prosecutor would contest at her court-martial. 475 Doss then gently led her friend out of the ward. They did not get very far as once outside of the

473 Doss, testimony, General Court-Martial, U.S. Army v. Young,” 147.

474 Morrison, interview, War Department Investigation, 583.

475 Morrison was not sure if Doss had told her Froias had released her from duty then or when she returned to the ward. Doss confirmed that she told her friend, though under questioning at the court-martial, pinned the time to when they were both at the barracks which did not help Morrison’s case. For his part, Froais said that he had not excused Morrison from duty though he later allowed Doss to leave. Doss testimony, General Court-Martial, U.S. Army v. Young, 148; 114.

220 ward Morrison caught sight of the chaplain’s office. Desperate to talk to someone in authority who might understand the situation, she decided to consult him. The clerk told her that the Army chaplain was out, so Morrison agreed to see any others who were available. After half an hour of waiting, she was preparing to leave when a civilian chaplain returned. In his office, she attempted to explain her desperation with the situation, yet, by her own account, fell into “hysterics” crying that she couldn’t go on.476

At her trial, Morrison described the depths of her emotions that day. “I felt I could just lay down and die.” Inconsolable, she returned to her ward and suggested Doss walk with her to see another friend. Doss told her she planned to stay at the hospital, so Morrison walked on her own to the far end of the hospital to talk to another soldier before heading out. Unsure what she was going to do though feeling that “anything would be better than to be put back on the wards,” Morrison began walking back to the barracks. 477 She would not be alone.

Like Morrison, Green had misgivings about returning to work. Arriving at her ward, her ward master, Sgt. Rhoyd Heath, asked her if she was on duty. Green said she was, though her attitude unmistakably registered her displeasure about being there. Heath asked if her reasons had anything to do with him, and Green said they did not. In the investigation that followed, she reported that she followed Heath’s orders to straighten the linen room, yet no other testimony, including hers during the court-martial,

476 Letter, Roy Wilkins, Acting Secretary NAACP, to Henry Stimson, Secretary of War, 5 April 1944; in an interesting sidelight, the chaplain did not attend the court-martial, having been suddenly transferred to across the country, a point the NAACP would later question.

477 General Court-Martial, U.S. Army v. Young.

221 collaborate this. Instead, Green appears to have spent the next half hour standing outside of the ward talking to a patient. With growing frustration, Heath told her that if she was going to work, she had to come into the ward. When Green informed him that she was not going to work, he told her to “go on back to your company and report to your First

Sergeant or your Company Commander.”478 As Green walked out into the corridor with

Heath not far behind, the two ran into the detachment’s first sergeant, Clotha Bates, who asked what had happened. To ensure a precise account, she ordered Green to repeat her exact conversation with Heath. Afterwards, Heath concurred with her recollection and advised Bates to take down Green’s name. Bates did so. She then ordered Green to go to the company before scurrying off to check on the Wacs in other wards. Green was in no hurry to comply with Bates’ order. Before leaving the hospital, she stopped to talk to a patient. Soon after, she joined other black Wacs, including Morrison, on the road to their barracks.479

Young also reluctantly obeyed Miles’ order and, like Morrison, Green, and many other Wacs, reported to her duty station visibly upset. She stopped into the ward office where she saw PFC Gene Beale (her ward master) and a lieutenant working at her desk.

Then she tried to work. A woman, perhaps a civilian orderly, noticed her distress and

478 Ibid.

479 Ibid. Green, testimony, General Court-Martial, U.S. Army v. Young, 173-174. In the post-trial investigation, Green described an additional conversation with Heath in which she explained that she had not eaten since lunch the day before and could not work because she was hungry. She explained that she had not eaten due to the restriction imposed on the detachment. Green did not mention this during her court-martial. Furthermore, while none of the Wacs on strike had lunch due to the noon meeting with Miles, they had been allowed to leave the barracks during their restriction for meal.

222 advised Young to not feel bad. Young replied, “Well, there’s nothing I can do,” and then added, “I can’t help from feeling bad about it though.”480 A phone call to the ward sent her on an errand to the kitchen where she encountered a ward boy who, finding some humor in the situation, tried to prod her into talking about the strike. Young instead snapped, “That’s our business and not to be discussed in the ward here.”

Young endeavored to plow through the day and even advised others to do the same. Pvt. Mary Driver, the other black Wac on her ward, confided in her, telling her how badly she felt about being back in the ward and that she had thoughts of abandoning her duties and taking the court-martial. Young coaxed her out of it, telling her co-worker to take it easy for the day as she would assume her duties. When Driver persisted, Young advised her to ask Beale for the day off. Indicating that she was on friendly terms with her ward master, Young assured her that, “Gene is willing, and he won’t make you stay here.” As Young predicted, Beale excused Driver for the day. Pvt. Lucille Edmonds, who worked on a different ward, also spoke to Young about her similar misgivings over returning to work. Young talked Edmonds out of continuing the strike and then escorted her to her work area. Once there, they ran into Sgt. Harold Wicks, Lovell Hospital

South’s supervisor of all enlisted personnel. Wicks spoke to Edmonds, presumably reassuringly given his subsequent discussion with Young. With three civilians hovering around, the two ducked into a nearby kitchen where, according to Young, Wicks confided in her that he thought that the black Wacs were getting “a dirty deal,” and regretted that

480 Young, interview, War Department Investigation, 545-546.

223 he could do nothing about it. Young admitted that she was having as hard a time with the situation as the others, and that she wasn’t sure she could go on either.481

The mood at Lovell Hospital South was decidedly downcast and tense that afternoon. The women understood that by obeying Miles’ order, they had allowed the strike to fold with nothing changed and nothing better in the offing. Apparently, Miles’ big carrot, a guarantee of an investigation, provided little comfort. Instead, as Young described the hospital that afternoon, “the majority of the girls were walking around, bewildered. They wanted to stay there, and didn’t want to stay there.” As she walked back to her ward, Young was already leaning toward the latter. By the time she arrived, she had made up her mind. She called over to Beale and announced, “Gene, I am leaving.

I will take a court-martial.”482

At her court-martial, Young testified that even at that point, she was not sure what to do. After Miles’ order, she had returned to work “with the intention of staying, but was confused” and needed to get away and think. Mainly, she later explained, “I wanted to go back to the barracks and get some rest because I was so upset.” Young recollected that in announcing her departure to Gene Beale, she had heard him respond, “O.K.” Whether this signaled Beale’s acknowledgment of her departure or permission for her to leave would prove a point of contention during the trial.483

481 Ibid; also Wicks’ official testimony used during the court-martial varies from Young’s version of their encounter that afternoon. He noted that she was not in her ward when they met and that she told him she was not going to go back to work. “Review by Service Command Judge Advocate, 2 April 1945, included in the documents of the War Department Investigation.

482 Young, interview, War Department Investigation, 547.

483 Ibid.

224 Around 2 p.m., approximately an hour after their arrival to their wards, Morrison,

Green, and Young joined the wave of Wacs flowing out of the hospital and streaming on the road toward their barracks. The three were not natural companions, hence, Morrison walked with Doss and a few of their buddies, Green with her friends, and Young possibly with Edmonds. Approximately thirty women, walking in pairs and small groups, some lagging far behind, grimly proceeded to their barracks. Most of those making the slow trek had permission to leave their duty stations that afternoon. Others returned only in order to change from their Class A formal uniforms (which they wore for their morning meeting with Miles) into their blue smocks. Given the overall mood, not everyone was altogether certain of her status.484 Morrison would later testify that she had left on the word of her good friend that she had permission. Young claimed that her ward master, with whom she apparently got on well, had given her leave. At the court-martial, however, both ward masters denied authorizing their departures.

When the women arrived at the barracks, they spread out into the day room and their bunk areas while Green and Morrison headed to the orderly room to present themselves to their detachment officer, Lt. Stoney. As they entered, they saw Stoney at her desk dealing with paperwork (the court-martial charges for Adam and Baham) and

Lawson standing nearby. Neither enlisted Wac spoke. Shortly afterwards, Young arrived, and the attention turned to her. Young announced, “Lt. Stoney, I’m reporting back from my ward, and I feel like I’d rather take a court-martial than go back under present

484 Morrison, testimony, General Court-Martial, U.S. Army v. Young.

225 conditions, unless the conditions are changed.”485 Stoney asked Young, “Do you?” and

Young replied that she did. “What about you, Pvt. Morrison?” Morrison replied in the affirmative. Stoney repeated the question to Green who shook her head in agreement. At this point, Lawson ordered Young to go to the barracks and tell those who intended to take a court-martial rather than return to work to report immediately to the dayroom. 486

After Young completed her task, she too walked into the dayroom where she saw approximately six other members of her detachment, including Morrison and Green.

Lawson was taking them aside, one at a time, to individually ask each about her intentions. Conflicted and overwrought with anxiety, Morrison told Lawson that she had tried to return to work, but that she could not do it again. “I don’t think I can go on,” she told her. “Put my name down for a court-martial.”487 Lawson obliged and told her to pack her bags. Young gave her name and serial number as did Green. The latter two then walked to their shared living quarters in their barracks.

Young retreated to her bunk area to pack and to think through her decision. As she later recalled, “I only wanted to have things half-straightened out and I would go back to work.” Both she and Green broke down in tears as they prepared for their transfer to confinement. Doss soon entered the room and strongly advised them to rescind their statements, telling them that it wasn’t worth getting court-martialed over. By this time,

Young and Green definitely wanted their names off Lawson’s list. Young, however, felt

485 Ibid. Young, interview, 547-548.

486 Ibid.

487 Ibid., 119.

226 certain that Lawson would not drop names once she had recorded them. Doss insisted that she would since so little time had elapsed. Eventually, she convinced the two to chance it.

In the day room, Young approached Lawson and told her that she had changed her mind and would return to work. When Lawson told her it was too late, Young persisted, “Isn’t there any way you can stop this?” Lawson countered that she had orders to take the names of anyone who returned to the barracks without permission. Though

Young was adamant that she “didn’t want a court-martial, that I would go back to work,” there was, according to Lawson, no turning back.488 At this point, Green informed

Lawson that she might be pregnant. This is why, she said, that she felt that the work she did at the hospital was too heavy for her.489 At her court-martial, she would offer a different reason for not working that day: “We had been having trouble about we being colored and I didn’t feel right going back on the ward with the same girls I had been working with and get the same treatment.”490 However, during the March 10 exchange with Lawson, she cited health issues. She also asked Lawson if she could avoid the court- martial by returning to work. Lawson said no. MPs arrived within the hour and drove the three to confinement quarters at Lovell Hospital North.

Murphy’s situation differed from her co-defendants in several important ways.

First, she had a previous conviction for disrespecting an officer whereas the others had

488 General Court-Martial, U.S. Army v. Young, 50.

489 Ibid., 175.

490 Ibid. Green, testimony, General Court-Martial, U.S. Army v. Young, 188-190.

227 unblemished records.491 Second, she had not taken part in the original strike. Three, she had not been present during Miles’ speech and direct order. Instead, Murphy had spent those two days convalescing at Lovell Hospital North. After her release that Saturday afternoon of March 10, Murphy reported to Stoney that she was back on duty.

Afterwards, according to Murphy, she noticed Morrison crying outside her barracks.

Gaining some insight into the strike action, she sought out Lawson who was taking down names for a court-martial. She told her to put hers on the list, and, declaring her conviction on the issue in no uncertain terms, Murphy added, “I would take death before

I would go back to work.”

Since March 10 was a Saturday and Murphy had not yet been reassigned after her hospital stay, Lawson decided to overlook the comment until after the weekend. The following Monday after Murphy had her new assignment, she repeated her refusal. Once again, Lawson cautioned her: “Private Murphy, you don’t realize what you are doing.”

Murphy retorted, “I think I do.” Lawson then formally ordered Murphy to her duty station. Murphy formally refused, once again stating that she would prefer death.492 At this point, Lawson had no choice but to put her on report for disobeying her command.

Thus, while prosecutors charged Morrison, Green, and Young with disobeying Miles, they charged Murphy with disobeying Lawson.

491 Murphy had used “vile language” after Lt. Stoney questioned her about a whiskey bottle top that she had found during an inspection. She was court-martialed on 11 January 1945, found guilty, put on thirty days restriction and fined $33. War Department Investigation; see also the General Court-Martial, U.S. Army v. Young.

492 Ibid., 241.

228 At 4 p.m. the next day, Sunday, March 11, Lawson visited all of those in confinement up to that point, namely, Morrison, Green, and Young as well as Adams and

Baham. (Murphy would not be detained until the following day.) The women were held in separate rooms at Lovell Hospital North, so Lawson made the rounds, meeting with each individually. Curiously, she asked Morrison, Green, and Young if they were given the chance to reverse her decision, would they return to her duty station. Green and

Young said they would. Morrison asked if this was a possibility. Lawson said no, that it was too late and the court-martial would go ahead. At this point, the incarcerated private announced, “Well, if it will help my people by me taking a court-martial, I would be willing to take it.”493

On March 13, the Army officially charged Morrison, Green, Young, Murphy,

Allen, and Baham with disobeying a commanding officer. That same day, Representative

William T. Granahan (D-PA), wrote to Secretary of War Stimson. His letter was in regards to one that Warfield had sent him describing the treatment of black Wacs at Ft.

Devens and her personal experiences. Warfield had written not only her aunt about the circumstances at Ft. Devens, but upon the advice of the Philadelphia NAACP’s Carolyn

Moore, her congressman, too. In his correspondence to Stimson, Granahan copied the text of Warfield’s letter, leaving out her name from her description of Ft. Devens just days before the strike. It also contained Warfield’s claim that the Army had kept her from going overseas with the 6888th Postal Battalion because, as a medical technician, she was needed in the United States. “And yet,” she poured out to Granahan, “I have not been

493 Ibid., 173; 180.

229 permitted to work as a medical technician.” She told him about the duties of black Wacs at the hospital, a plan to send the civilian workers to school, the lackluster command of her lieutenant and first sergeant, and the suicide attempt. Warfield concluded, “Please investigate this at once as conditions are serious.” Diplomatically, the white congressman asked Stimson for information and advice “as to what may be done to remedy the situation of which complaint is made.”494

In the meantime, Warfield’s initial letter, the one her aunt had brought to the attention of the NAACP’s Philadelphia branch representative on March 6, had prompted the NAACP to contact its Boston affiliate’s president, Julian Steele.495 Steele was also

Miles’ go-to man for issues regarding black troops, so it followed that the two would have met in any case to discuss the WAC strike. Agreeing with Miles that the women should not have disobeyed his order, Steele let the general know that the Boston branch he headed would nevertheless offer the six defendants legal assistance.496 On March 16,

Steele issued a public statement that commended the general for his "forbearance and understanding" in the case, faulted the ‘misguided’ defendants for blemishing the

"splendid record which colored Wacs have made in this war,” and claimed that

494 Letter, William T. Granahan to Henry L. Stimson, 13 March 1945, included in the War Department’s Investigation.

495 Letter, Edward R. Dudley, Assistant Special Counsel, to Carolyn D. Moore, Executive Secretary, Philadelphia Branch, NAACP, 10 March 1945.

496 As quoted in “Negro Wacs Under Discipline, Offered Counsel for Defense,” Christian Science Monitor, 16 March 1945 “Discrimination in the U.S. Armed Forces, 1918-1955,” NAACP Papers, Reel 19, Part 9, Series B, 1940-1955 (Columbus: Ohio State University) microfilm.

230 discrimination was not involved in this case.497 The public response was instantaneous and fierce. Critics within the NAACP faulted Steele’s failure to support the women and his quickness to agree with their officers’ denial of racism at Ft. Devens. In the face of mounting criticism, and as the broader implications became clear, Steele retracted his statement.498

The Boston Chapter of the NAACP also arranged for Julian D. Rainey, a local lawyer and chairman of its legal committee, to represent the group. On March 17, the day of Steele’s retraction and just three days before the trial, Rainey first met with the six defendants. He then arranged to discuss the case with Miles. The main order of business was a request that Miles drop the charges against Allen and Baham on the grounds of documented mis-assignment. The Army, after all, had sent them to Lovell Hospital to work as technicians, not orderlies. In addition, the two were pending transfer, and had been for a month. Rainey argued that when Miles ordered them to their duty stations,

Allen and Baham had nowhere else to go but the barracks where they had been doing odd jobs. Lastly, Rainey suggested that the enlisted women’s awe in the presence of a general prevented them from properly understanding his order. Miles was not convinced by these arguments, remarking that they “can only be believed on the assumption that they had lost their heads, an assumption that is discredible to any Wac.”499 On the other hand,

497 Ibid.

498 Meyer, Creating G.I. Jane, 98.

499 War Department Investigation, Exhibit W.

231 preferring to “avoid any semblance of persecution,” Miles grudgingly agreed to dismiss the charges against Allen and Baham.

On the same day, Miles approved a transfer for Warfield who had been on pass when he had issued his order. Though she was not part of the group detained, her earlier refusal to do work marked her, Miles believed, as sympathetic to the strikers’ cause and action. He did not want Warfield at Ft. Devens. As he later explained, “I was going to get them [Warfield, Allen, and Baham] out as fast as possible because I thought they were a bad influence.” He promptly arranged for transfers of all three, which went into effect over the weekend. That Sunday, Warfield was on her way to Ft. Riley, Kansas. 500 The next day, the court-martial would begin.

At this point, Miles must have felt that he had given the case more personal attention and the women far greater leniency than he would have given male troops. He had accorded the Wacs a chance to go back to work without blemish to their records, offered to take the testimonies of those who did so, dropped the charges of two of the defendants on what he considered weak grounds, and ordered an investigation of black

Wac conditions at Ft. Devens. A highly accomplished man with a distinguished record of service, the sixty-three year old Major General had been as fair as Army policies and his understanding of race and gender issues allowed. Once the women rejected his entreaties, however, Miles vigorously pursued court-martial proceedings against them. He was confident that the trial was about the conscious violation of orders, not discrimination. He

500 Ibid.

232 determined, however, that this would not be his call. Once the court-martial was underway, Miles purposely stepped back and allowed military justice to take its course.

Miles’ pursuit of the court-martial may have been in part an effort to quell rumors that women soldiers were not subject to the same military discipline as men.501 There was, in fact, some basis to this rumor. In May 1944, Colonel Hobby sent a confidential letter to each command recommending that their review boards consider discharges for errant women rather than confinement. She advocated this type of punishment due to practical concerns. Penal facilities for women were not readily available and building them would be a costly expense for the mere handful of WAC disciplinary problems.

Indeed, the WAC’s “traits and character” code of conduct enabled the WAC to quickly exit offending servicewomen from the service. Additionally, word of WAC prisons would have been disastrous to recruiting efforts. The WAC, therefore, decided to send those accused of serious violations of civil rather than military law to the Federal

Industrial Reformatory for Women at Alderson, West Virginia. For lesser military-related offences, however, it left confinement measures to individual commanders. The “jailing” of one Wac in particular illustrates the dilemma of confining Wacs when no female confinement quarters existed. Her “cell” was a guardhouse with a private shower, conveniently located on post where her many well-wishers could drop by during the day to offer their condolences and the occasional gift.502

501 “Telephone conversation between Judge Paterson and General Cramer,” 4 April 1945, contained in General Court-Martial, U.S. Army v. Young.

502 Treadwell, The Women’s Army Corps, 506-507; also see “Confinement and Punishment of Members of the Women’s Army Corp,” 29 May 44, RG 165, 390-30-25 1/2, Entry 43, Box 480, NA.

233 Male soldiers privy to the open secret concerning the lack of penal punishments for wayward Wacs no doubt took exception to what they perceived as lenient treatment for females in uniform. One commonly-heard complaint was that “nothing could be done to Wacs who break rules.”503 Indeed, most general courts-martial convictions of women ended in remittances of sentences, as in the case of white Wac Pvt. Margaret Zeis, who

“accidentally” kicked a lieutenant when, as she claimed then, she was merely crossing her legs.504 Colonel Hobby, however, claimed that the lack of a women’s military prison actually worked against her troops. The Army often sent men to the brig over minor infractions, such as drinking or staying out late, whereas the WAC, without this option, were more likely to discharge women for similar violations.

As both women and African Americans, the Ft. Devens Wacs suffered from primarily two inaccurate but general impressions regarding military disciplinary measures. First, many male soldiers believed that Wacs were immune from discipline.

Second, officers often felt that civil rights leaders helped errant black soldiers hide their insubordination behind a banner of discrimination. This latter contention led one white male officer, when discussing the Ft. Devens black Wacs, to assert – with no small amount of irony – that, “If we’re going to take those people in the Army, they’ve got to be in on the same status.”505

503 As quoted in Treadwell, Women’s Army Corps, 507.

504 Author’s interview with Margaret Zeis McDonald, 20 April 2003; also see “Statistical Report on WAC Cases,” for the Judge Advocate, 8 May 1945; RG 165, Entry 165, 390-30-25-1/2, Box 480.

505 “Telephone conversation between Judge Paterson and General Cra.m.er,” 4 April 1945, General Court-Martial, U.S. Army v. Young.

234 It is not surprising then that the white officers, male and female, involved in the

Ft. Devens incident declared their own attitudes and actions to be free of racism. Miles was a conscientious soldier who followed Army orders as rigidly as he expected his own to be obeyed, yet segregation created racial inequities that he neither understood nor believed existed. Crandall professed his belief in the American ideal that “there is no race that is not equal to any other race.”506 His lack of involvement with his black Wac troops, he claimed, resulted not from any prejudice on his part, but from his desire to give his subordinate officers room to lead. Lawson argued that she had met her responsibilities to the new detachment by requesting black officers for the women (in accordance with

WAC policy) and by adopting a hands-off approach (in accordance with WAC custom).

Though all three asserted their commitment to equitable treatment, their acknowledged unawareness of their black troops’ concerns reveals their obliviousness to the inequities black Wacs daily faced under their command. The discrimination at Ft. Devens may not have been overt enough to be noticed by white officers, but it was real enough to be deeply felt by black enlisted women.

When Miles entered the fray, he seemed determined to treat the women with the utmost tolerance to prove that discrimination had nothing to do with the case. He sent envoys who he trusted were sympathetic to the women’s race, proclaimed an amnesty for those who gave up the strike and reported to their wards, and promised an investigation of the grievances of all those who returned to work.507 It had not occurred to him that

506 Miles, interview, “War Department Investigation.”

507 The amnesty would have covered their cursing and stomping behavior. This aspect was mentioned in the court-martial, but not in the press. Presumably both sides saw no advantage in 235 other military officials had also made promises to these women, and most of these had not been kept. Certainly neither the WAC nor the Army treated them on par with white

Wacs as their recruiters said they would. Had Crandall and Lawson permitted the women access to training schools, they would not have complained. Had they treated them with dignity at Lovell Hospital, they would not have considered a strike. Had Stoney attended to their issues, they would have worked through their chain of command. In short, had the women been white, they would not have faced the circumstances that led to the court- martial. Miles could not see it from his vantage point, but the case was, in fact, all about discrimination.

Miles had personally taken charge of the strike in expectation of a tidy and uncomplicated end to the affair. This was not to be, and ironically for the same reasons that black women in the 1940s were typically marginalized, as they were at Ft. Devens, nearly to the point of invisibility. Typically, their dual racial and gendered identities casts them into the lowest stratums of society where, with little notice, they performed the least desired jobs. As Wacs, however, they were also members of a highly respected institution. For the public, this unexpectedly odd combination would trigger widespread public interest in their case. Additionally, three years after the government established the women’s army corps, Americans remained insatiably curious about Wacs. News about the little publicized black Wacs provided a fresh dimension to the popular topic. The

publicizing it. Certainly, the cursing would have cast black Wacs in a poor, unfeminine role, yet the mainstream press could have had a field day illustrating the Army’s lack of control over its black Wac troops. As the Army had already taken steps to move Colonel Crandall and his role in the strike to the background, it had no desire to call further attention to him.

236 incident involving women in the Army also gave the civil rights movement a unique platform from which to protest segregation in the military, and it was determined to exploit this publicity coup. Lastly, because the Ft. Devens Wac court-martial was entangled in racial, gender, class, and military issues, it engaged average citizens into passionate debate over the Wacs responsibilities to the Army and the Army’s responsibility to its troops, regardless of race or sex. For all of these reasons, interests in a category of citizens usually overlooked suddenly reverberated across the nation, fueled by the many Americans who expressed their opinions on the case in their local newspaper, to the Department of War, and through their elected representatives, including the president of the United States. Miles had intended to put a quick end to what he considered a straightforward act of disobedience. Instead he gave a face, or rather four of them, to two problematic issues that the expanded Army was already grappling with: the on-going debate over the feasibility of maintaining its segregation policy, and the utilization of black women in the service.

237 Chapter 6. Trial and Verdict

“This girl said, ‘I will take death.’ Think of the poor immature girl who says that. They were confused, gentlemen.”508

Privates Anna Morrison, Mary Green, Alice Young, and Johnnie Murphy stood trial before a court-martial board on March 19, 1945 for disobeying a superior officer, a violation of Article of War 64. The charges against Morrison, Green, and Young read that each of the defendants, “having received a lawful command from Major General

Sherman Miles, her superior officer, to immediately fall in ranks in front of this building and be marched to her post of duty and to continue thereafter to do her duty did … willfully disobey the same in that she reported for duty but refused to continue on duty thereafter.”509 Murphy’s charges slightly differed as they stemmed from disobeying the same order, though as delivered by Lt. Victoria Lawson, the commander of Ft. Devens’ three WAC detachments. All four pleaded “not guilty.”

Though the Ft. Devens court-martial resulted from the commonly-cited charge of insubordination, and it followed standard military legal procedures, it was no ordinary trial. The reason for its uniqueness, first and foremost, was that the defendants were

508 Julian Rainey, Closing Statement, General Court-Martial, U.S. Army v. Young, 317.

509 Ibid. Young, testimony, 10-16.

238 servicewomen, an unheard of possibility just three years before.510 Furthermore, they were African American women, thereby ensuring a novel platform for an examination of the contentious issue of segregation in the military that was bound to arise during the trial. As a result, the sex of the black defendants sparked a succession of distinctive developments for an otherwise routine court-martial of black soldiers. For instance, female defendants not only gained the interest of the black press in the court-martial, but roused white interest in it as well, thus elevating the proceedings to a public event of national significance. This naturally put pressure on the Army to demonstrate through this case the impartiality of its judicial process. This undoubtedly led to two of the

Army’s special decisions for the court-martial. It would open it to the public to ensure transparency, and it would include among its nine-member panel, two black men and two white women.511 Wacs in the docket proved so inescapably extraordinary that the prosecutor found it necessary to remind the jury that as service personnel, the defendants were to be treated exactly as male soldiers in a military court of law. (He then proceeded to refer to them as “Miss” rather than their military title of “Private,” emphasizing their female identity over their official position in the heretofore all-male Army.) The defendants’ gender also led to a most unconventional defense of service personnel as it emphasized the natural weaknesses of the Wacs who were therefore not in full control of their emotions and actions. Racial issues would dominate the discourse of the trial as it

510 Under the loosely Army-affiliated Women’s Army Auxiliary Corps (WAAC), members were essentially civilians and therefore not subject to military codes of justice. This issue was one of the reasons the Army sought to convert the WAAC to the WAC.

511General Court-Martial, U.S. Army v. Young, 1-16.

239 did others centered on race, yet the defendants’ female sex set the tone of the debate and undergirded the arguments throughout the proceedings. The Ft. Devens Wac court- martial proved to be a very unusual trial.

As the most publicized trial of black enlisted Wacs during World War II, the Ft.

Devens court-martial reveals several ways in which the military’s judicial system reinforced Army policies that marginalized black women and maintained the status quo.

For instance, despite the Army’s obvious attempt to constitute a diversified panel to hear the case, the group it assembled consisted, as did other military trials, exclusively of officers. The experiences of commissioned officers greatly differed from those of low- ranking privates. Furthermore, less than half of them were either black or female, and none were black and female.512 The court also significantly undercut black women’s value to the service by permitting arguments based on popular, yet demeaning stereotypes of them.

Nevertheless, the protocols of a military trial rendered the accused an important voice in the proceedings. Through their attorney, they waived their right to have at least five days to prepare their case, and they requested the removal of one of the WAC officers on the jury.513 They also took the stand where they forthrightly described their treatment, their perpetual menial duties, and the racial inequities that fueled their actions.

512 Characteristically, the Army overlapped related racial and gendered categories to represent these dual identities of black women.

513 Ibid., 6. The civilian attorney, Julian Rainey, objected to 2Lt. Edna Callahan’s appearance on the court due to her presence when the four had spoken to Lt. Lawson in the day room. Callahan insisted that “I listened, but as far as making an opinion, I have not any,” and assured the court that she was “absolutely unbiased.” Rainey maintained his objection, and the Law Member dismissed her from the court. General Court-Martial, U.S. Army v. Young, 6.

240 Significantly, Green, Morrison, Young, and Murphy articulated in their testimonies a perspective distinct from that of the prosecuting attorney and even from their defense lawyer. For instance, all three parties honed in on the role of racial discrimination in the case, yet while the black Wacs focused on evidence of racism, their defense counsel focused on the “perception” of racism and the prosecutor on the absence of racism. The women’s view of their service also differed from that of these men. Both the prosecution and defense sought to undermine the status of the black women as Wacs, albeit for opposite reasons as the prosecution sought a conviction and the defense a dismissal. The defendants, however, asserted that their position as full-fledged Wacs entitled them to the same treatment and opportunities the Army had guaranteed them upon enlistment. They spoke confidently, forcefully at times, and – as various documentation of the case bears out – honestly, in an effort to accurately report their circumstances and explain their motivations.

Just nine days after Miles had addressed the black WAC detachment, the court- martial he warned the women about convened. By 10 a.m. that Monday morning, spectators and journalists crowded into a small room at the Ft. Devens post headquarters building. 514 Capt. George H. Schwartz took his seat with the members of the jury where he would preside as the “Law Member” or military judge. Also present were Major Leon

E. McCarthy and his Assistant Trial Judge Advocate, 1Lt William N. Calyer, who formed the prosecution team. Captain Paul J. McCormack appeared as the Army’s court- appointed representative of the four Wacs, though he would not take an active role in the

514 Ibid., 1-16.

241 proceedings.515 The NAACP had offered the women civilian representation and they accepted, as was their right in a general court-martial. A prominent African American attorney, therefore, would lead the defense. He was Julian Rainey, the chair of the legal committee of the NAACP’s Boston chapter.516

In addition to his prestigious role as a leading NAACP figure in one of the nation’s largest metropolitan cities, Rainey was also a World War I veteran. It was a point he made known early in the proceedings when claiming his familiarity with the military as “an officer for some years in the Army in the last war and in the National

Guard.”517 Interestingly, Rainey’s approach and his comments throughout the trial, particularly those regarding the psychological toll of racism, suggest sustained battle scars from his time in the service. As a black officer during the Great War, he had been among the nation’s most promising young African American men who sought commissions intending to prove their manhood and the abilities of their race. Instead, their superiors targeted their leadership and intellect for relentless ridicule. The experience may explain Rainey’s seeming determination to emphasize his fraternity with the officers of the court, especially the prosecutor whom he frequently addressed as

“brother.”

515 Ibid., 4. The court excused Assistant defense counsel 1Lt Ernest E. Bruns due to the wishes of the defendants under the guidance of their civilian attorney.

516 Ibid., 3; “Court Martial Convicts 4 Wacs; Negroes Alleged Discrimination, The Herald Tribune, 21 March 1945.

517 Ibid., 40.

242 The circumstances of the court-martial afforded Rainey the opportunity, unavailable to him thirty years earlier, to lay open the scourge of racism, and he would do so with passion and confidence. Through the very public court-martial of black Wacs, he had a public forum to expose racial prejudice. As the defense lawyer in a court of law, he had official status equal to that of the prosecutor in order to assert his arguments. Indeed,

Rainey could be an exacting opponent for the prosecution and an intense interrogator of those he questioned on the stand. Possibly a courtroom packed with journalists obliged even the white enlisted personnel and officers called to testify to respond courteously to his questions and to address him respectfully as “sir.” It may also have been the defense attorney’s force of personality over an indictment he most certainly took personally.

Rainey came prepared with two strategies. The first was a long-shot, and he knew it. He began by calling his clients’ commanding officers, Lts. Victoria Lawson and

Tenola Stoney, to the stand and then the ward masters involved in the case, Sgts. John

Froias, Rhoyd Heath, and Harold Wicks. He also referred to a written statement that PFC

Gene Beale had submitted before going on furlough. He began with questions pertaining specifically to the events of March 10 in which he weaved in his clients’ pre-trial statements. After just half a day of testimony, Rainey made his move. He called for the dismissal of all charges against Morrison, Young, and Green. (He did not include

Murphy, whose circumstances significantly differed from those of her co-defendants, in this motion.)

It was an audacious move, yet Rainey stood his ground as he invoked the confusion of the day and called into question the hands-off nature of the women’s ward masters and company commanders. He reminded the court that Morrison and Young 243 claimed that they had left their posts under the assumption that they had been properly released. Their ward masters, on the other hand, testified that they had not given their permission for the women to depart. Rainey contended that these men bore some responsibility for any confusion over the matter. On March 10, they had been on the scene. At that point, they had had the opportunity and the duty to clearly state their expectations. To Froias, who stood just ten feet from Morrison when Doss had slowly led her despondent friend from his ward, Rainey asked, “Did you say anything when they went off duty?”

“No, sir.”

Rainey repeated the question, “You didn’t say anything at all?”

Froias repeated his answer, “No, sir.”518

Beale had also been in his ward when Young, who worked under him, noted her departure. She claimed that he responded, “OK,” giving her his permission to go. In his written statement, Beale refuted Young’s claim. Beale’s inconvenient absence precluded

Rainey from questioning his statement though later, Young would insist that, “if he had stopped me, I would not have gone.”519

In Green’s case, Rainey sought to demonstrate that she had vacated the premises only after her ward master had told her to leave. On the stand, Heath disclosed that, “She didn’t tell me she was leaving. I sent her off.” Heath explained that his order was in

518Ibid. John Froias, testimony, 89-90.

519 Ibid. Young, testimony, 223.

244 response to Green’s statement that she would not work that day. Rainey then asked him,

“Did you ask her to do anything? You didn’t ask her to do any duties at all?”

Heath replied, “Not that I could remember.”520

Rainey reminded the court that, according to Heath’s statement, Green had been standing at the door for half an hour, and yet at no point did he direct her to carry out specific duties. He also noted that within an hour of turning themselves in for a court- martial, Young and Green had asked Lawson to drop their names from her list as they would return to work. Due to the high emotions of the day and the defendants’ desire to comply, he questioned Lawson’s reasons for submitting their names for a court-martial, and hence, her commitment to her troops and their welfare.

Next, Rainey examined the wording of Miles’ order, asserting that Morrison,

Young, and Green had, in fact, obeyed it to the letter. The general had stated that the

Wacs were to fall out (leave the dayroom), fall in (into a formation outside the dayroom), and march to their posts. Rainey insisted that the three had followed through on each of these commands.521 He then offered a further analysis of the last part of Miles’ order that read, “You will continue to do your duty thereafter.” Rainey argued that this section of

Miles’ command was too loosely phrased as to identify the exact duties, place of those duties, or timeframe for them to be performed. Indeed, it was so broadly defined, he insisted, that he considered it an unlawful order. “Thereafter” was an “indefinite” term with no conceivable boundaries, and therefore impossible to follow to the letter as

520 Ibid. Rhoyd Heath, testimony, 97.

521 Ibid. Rainey, 104-106.

245 demanded. Given the seriousness of the charges, Rainey added that “if there is anything which would require definiteness, it is a specification in courts-martial proceedings.”522

Of course, there were many holes in Rainey’s proposal, not the least of which were Morrison, Young, and Green’s uncontested announcement on March 10 that they would take a court-martial rather than return to work. Not surprisingly, the prosecutor categorically opposed Rainey’s motion to dismiss the case. “Now it is true,” McCarthy allowed, “that if an order of that nature … were given to a person who was not acquainted with military terms, who were told to ‘fall out, fall in front of the building,’

[it] might do some hideous things if they attempted to do that.” However, as service members who had completed basic training, this was not an issue. Instead, referring to the defendants, he asserted that, “They knew what their duties were,” and they knew where and how long they were to perform them.523 Thereafter, the Law Member denied

Rainey’s motion. The ruling could not have surprised Rainey who had come prepared with a second, and much more complicated, defense for the women. By the time he introduced it, however, he had laid the groundwork of confusion it required.

Rainey clearly understood the racial provocations behind the Ft. Devens strike, yet a frontal attack of the Army’s racist policies was not a viable option. So vigilantly did the Army, and all the services, rally behind segregation as a fair and equitable policy that it refused to entertain racial discrimination as a defense in disciplinary cases. Had Rainey pursued this course, no matter how eloquently and convincingly, he would have lost the

522 Ibid.

523 Ibid. Law Member, 109.

246 case. Therefore, despite the civil rights attorney’s extensive expertise in the matter, through legal training and personal experience, he had no choice but to seek another angle to contest his clients’ innocence. Nevertheless, as Rainey’s spirited discourse demonstrated, he fervently desired somehow to at least allude to the racist elements of the women’s treatment that led them to their acts of insubordination. Wisely cautious to avoid overt criticism of the Army’s segregationist structure, Rainey settled on a strategy that narrowly sidestepped discrimination as a defense. He would argue the case based instead on the women’s “perception of discrimination.”

Rainey proposed that this perception, which he carefully framed as potentially a misperception, led his clients to feel confused about their situation as they understood it.524 He sketched this “over-all picture” as one dotted with inconsistencies that had eventually psychologically overwhelmed his clients. They had enlisted to fight racism abroad, only to feel its sting in the military; they were eager to fill the gap of the Army’s highly-publicized WAC technician shortage, only to work as unskilled laborers; they were Wacs, but did not have WAC responsibilities. The effect on these women, he reasoned, was nothing short of traumatic confusion.525

Throughout the trial, Rainey built on the concept of perception of discrimination in order to avoid placing direct blame on the Army and its segregation policies. This did not preclude probing the culpability of individual officers and ward men at Ft. Devens in the willful neglect of his clients. On the contrary, questioning their leadership provided

524 Ibid. Rainey, 180.

525 Ibid. 134.

247 practical cover for Rainey to expose the inequitable treatment black Wacs’ suffered and thus the reasons for the strike. As Rainey periodically reminded the court, his case rested not on whether discrimination led the women to disobey their officers, but on how these perceptions of inequitable treatment had sparked a form of temporary insanity:

If they have violated any Article of War, it was due to the mind of a monomaniac,

a mind that was confused, a mind confused by something they couldn’t

understand because of differentiation made between members of the armed forces

because of color, which had driven them to excitement which amounted to

monomania and they didn’t know what they were doing.526

The prosecution flatly denied that discrimination, much less any perceptions of discrimination, had anything to do with the case. Instead, McCarthy’s arguments centered exclusively on the defendants’ decision to disobey General Miles’ March 10 orders.

While noting that Morrison, Young, and Green had returned to their post that day,

McCarthy drew on the ward masters’ testimony to contest that the three had secured permission to leave their place of duty. Furthermore, he rejected the possibility of extenuating circumstances of race. The Army had a responsibility to place service personnel where their skills were most needed, and at Ft. Devens, this apparently meant assigning the majority of the black WAC detachment to orderly duty. As members of the

Army Forces, the Wacs were obligated to attend to their given tasks. McCarthy showed little sympathy for complaints over menial jobs. Perhaps his penchant for addressing the

526 Ibid. 133.

248 women as “Miss” rather than “Private” reflected in part his disdain for military personnel who abandoned their stations. More likely, it reflected his paternalistic sexism towards women in the military.

Underlying the prosecution’s arguments was the notion that the women in the black WAC detachment were not mistreated by the Army, but misled by race agitators.

Rather than question the role of segregation in the consistent tide of race-related disruptions in the military, McCarthy targeted those whom he assumed brewed discontent among otherwise satisfied personnel. At Ft. Devens, he suspected that Morrison best fit this role, and accused her of being the ringleader: “Isn’t it true, Miss Morrison, that you told defense counsel that these things bothered you for some time?” Major Leon E.

McCarthy asked. “You were one of the ringleaders in getting them upset about their jobs?”

Morrison would have known that that she had a hand in encouraging the strike action, but she could also be certain that she had not caused her peers’ resentment against their menial jobs and lack of respect. Responding to McCarthy’s accusation, she replied,

“I would not say I was a ringleader.”527

Lost in the debate over the defendants’ perceptions of their situation and their understanding of Miles’ order were Morrison, Green, Young, and Murphy’s clearly stated reasons for their actions. These extended beyond their menial duty assignments to the overall job disparities between white and black Wacs. “I saw the white Wacs and what they were doing and what we were doing,” testified Murphy, noting that “it seemed like

527 Ibid. Morrison, testimony, 141.

249 they had a difference between them because of the race.”528 Likewise, Young insisted that the white Wacs orderlies “do practically nothing, sir …The work they do is altogether different.”529 McCarthy made much of the equipment the Army supplied to ease their duties as orderlies, including convenient long-handled brooms, and the relatively minimal effort required to perform their tasks. Though obviously relevant details to the prosecutor, the niceties of service work in the Army simply had no bearing on the women’s decision to strike. They listened and answered his questions on the matter, but they never addressed the issue themselves, focusing instead on the training they had been promised and the discrimination they faced. Throughout the trial, the prosecution rejected their grievances rooted in racism while the defense connected their actions to a confused state of mind. All the while, the defendants forthrightly asserted, when given the opportunity, that their personal experiences with racial discrimination had sparked the strike.

Rainey partially accommodated his clients’ desire to air their grievances in order to draw out the discriminatory practices endemic to segregation. His questions, however, emphasized the women’s psychological health rather than their personal experiences. By frequently inquiring into how they “felt” about their treatment, he hoped to elicit evidence of their clouded reasoning that he could then integrate into his perceptions-of- discrimination defense. For instance, during his cross-examination of Young, he asked her to describe her encounter with the hospital’s commanding officer, Colonel Walter

528 Ibid., 238.

529 Ibid. Young, testimony, 207.

250 Crandall, when he had spotted her taking a patient’s temperature. Young recounted that

Crandall had announced in the ward, “I do not have colored [Wacs] as medical technicians. They are here to scrub and wash floors, wash dishes and do all the dirty work.”

Rainey: Now, did this have any effect on your mental makeup?

Young: It affected me because I had been working, doing everything that [the

nurse] asked.

Rainey: I don’t mean that. How did you feel afterwards, mentally?

Young: I felt very bad about it.

This line of questioning enabled Rainey to probe the significance of race in the circumstances that led up to the strike without directly accusing the Army of racial discrimination. Young, for example, was subsequently able to add that though “white

Wacs were going to medical technician’s school,” she realized after her encounter with

Crandall that she would not have this opportunity because she was African American.530

Similarly, when Rainey asked Green, “How did you feel mentally? Or, what were you thinking?” in regards to her treatment at Ft. Devens, he provided the opportunity to reply,

“Sir, I felt that all the whites got better treatment and didn’t have to do the dirty work that we did on our ward.”531

530 Ibid., 201.

531 Ibid. Green, testimony, 180.

251 McCarthy challenged the defendants’ contentions of preferential Army treatment of white Wacs over black Wacs and suggested they were based on hearsay rather than facts. Murphy refused to give in on this point with a firm retort, “I never go by what is told me.”532 McCarthy then asked her if she had any concrete evidence to back up her suspicions. Murphy had a list of them. She testified that she had on occasion witnessed white Wacs in the ward offices sitting around and socializing, and had never seen them

“working like we did – I mean, scrubbing.” McCarthy successfully cast doubt on her expertise on the matter through a series of questions dealing with how many white orderlies she had observed, for how long, and how often. Ultimately, Murphy could supply few specifics, and she admitted that she had seen only a few white orderlies, distinctive in their blue dresses, and had used these observations as a basis for her perception of the preferential treatment of white Wacs. “I went by what I thought,” she told the court. By the time McCarthy asked her, “You don’t know what work they do, do you?” Murphy could only agree. “No, sir,” she replied. McCarthy then brought the defendant full circle to his original question. Once again, he asked her, “You had no evidence upon which to base this?” Despite her previous responses, Murphy would not concede his larger point. “I would not say so,” she answered.533

Murphy’s remark obviously confounded McCarthy. Just moments before, he had demonstrated the limits of her personal knowledge of white Wac duties and had even coaxed an admission from her that she did not know what white orderlies did. Despite

532 Ibid. Murphy, testimony, 246.

533 Ibid., 244-246.

252 this, Murphy maintained that she had evidence of racial discrimination. It was not a contradiction. Instead, Murphy was referencing a different paradigm. Whereas McCarthy was comparing the duties of white and black orderly duties, Murphy was comparing the duties of all white and black Wacs stationed at Ft. Devens. Murphy may not have seen every white Wac on duty, but she had seen enough to get an idea of the disparity between white and black tasks. Her memories were also very recent. While her detachment was on strike, she was convalescing at Lovell Hospital North where hundreds of white Wacs worked in a variety of assignments. Shortly after this bout of questioning, a somewhat flustered Murphy tried to explain: “Our members are orderlies … the white Wacs, there are so many and the different things they are doing.”534 Since McCarthy did not see it this way, he found Murphy’s testimony confusing. In an attempt to get a handle on it, he summed up her observations. Laying select reasons he had gathered from her testimony to support her allegations that the Army practiced unfair job opportunities, McCarthy opined, “Is it fair for me to make this statement … You felt the colored Wacs were being mistreated because there were comparatively few colored Wacs on the post compared with the white Wacs, and the jobs the colored Wacs had were fewer, whereas the white

Wacs did a large number of different type jobs. Is that correct?”535

In this statement, McCarthy had attempted to show a correlation between the larger numbers of white Wacs at Ft. Devens to the larger number of different assignments they held in comparison with black Wacs and their fewer numbers

534 Ibid., 246-247

535 Ibid., 245.

253 and, fewer job options. He had expected his summary would refute Murphy’s contention that blacks Wacs were not given the same opportunities as whites.

Instead, McCarthy had pinpointed the precise problem as Murphy and her co- defendants saw it: whites served in a greater number of assignments than those in the black WAC detachment. Moreover, the Army mostly relegated them to orderly duties. Affirming McCarthy’s assessment, Murphy nodded, “Yes, sir.”536

Later in the trial, Lawson’s testimony would corroborate the drastic racial imbalance of WAC jobs at Ft. Devens. The Army dispersed white Wacs into fifteen different assignments, mostly in the desirable positions of clerical specialists and medical technicians. In contrast, black Wacs were confined to just four assignment: orderlies (where over 60 percent worked), cadre, cooks, and drivers. Indeed, of the black Wacs assigned to the hospital, all worked as orderlies whereas just 8 percent of white Wacs held this job.537 As noted, McCarthy legitimized the additional jobs for white Wacs due to their larger numbers.

However, according to Lawson, there were twice as many white Wacs compared to black Wacs, and they held nearly five times the types of jobs.538 Murphy could not have known this precise data when McCarthy questioned her claims of racial inequity in the two Lovell Hospitals, nor did she need it to make her assessment.

536 Ibid.

537 Ibid. Lawson, 259-260. Lawson testified that 60 percent of the black Wacs in her command were orderlies, 6 percent clerical workers, 10 percent cooks, and 6 percent drivers. In comparison, 8 percent of white Wacs worked as orderlies, 40 percent as clerical workers, and 4 percent as cooks.

538 Ibid. Lawson, testimony, 253-273.

254 So great was the contrast between white and black Wac roles, discrimination was, to her and the others in her detachment, readily detectable.

McCarthy’s line of questioning and his competent, if dismissive, summary of

Murphy’s testimony reveals that he did not consider the gross disparities between white and black assignments at Ft. Devens problematic. Instead, he saw them as a consequence of the differences in skill levels between the two categories of servicewomen. To confirm his suspicions for the jury, he asked Murphy if she felt qualified to do the work that the white Wacs in the laboratory and at the information desk did. “I would not say so,” she answered, thus seemingly validating McCarthy’s point that Wacs at Ft. Devens worked the jobs that best fit their abilities.539 Soon after, Rainey gave Murphy the opportunity to explain that she did not feel qualified for technical jobs because she had not been trained for them. Nevertheless, McCarthy’s conclusions demonstrates the ease with which Army officers were willing to attribute even the most obvious discrepancies in duties between white and black Wacs to differences in natural abilities based on race.

McCarthy’s direct examination of Young gave him the opportunity to press his point that the Army assigned personnel to job assignments appropriate to their skills. Of the four defendants, Young had the most years of formal education, including a year of higher education at Howard University where she, as a student nurse, had trained at

Piedmont Hospital in Washington, D.C. At her court-martial, Young testified that she had been “told I was a medical technician, and then I changed to ward orderly.”540 McCarthy

539 Ibid. Murphy, testimony, 250.

540 Ibid. Young, testimony, 198.

255 then questioned her qualifications for the position of a medical technician. He began by revealing her failing marks in her chemistry and psychology college courses, suggesting that she had been asked to leave school. Young refuted the charge, claiming, “They did ask me to continue on and take my chemistry over again.”541 The prosecutor then tested her medical knowledge.

McCarthy: What is the difference between systolic and diastolic pressure,

do you know?

Young: Not now, sir. I am quite confused. I couldn’t directly come out and

tell you.

McCarthy: I don’t want to confuse you. You testified a few minutes ago

that you took blood pressure at the Lovell General Hospital.

Young: Yes, I did.

McCarthy: You don’t know the difference between systolic and diastolic

pressure, do you, Miss Young?

Rainey objected to the line of inquiry, protesting that Young “might be able to read systolic and diastolic and not know the difference between them.”

The court overruled him and allowed Young to answer the question. At that point,

McCarthy volunteered, “I won’t press it.” He didn’t need to. By then, McCarthy had seriously compromised Young’s credibility as a potential medical technician.542

541 Ibid., 203-205.

542 Ibid., 206. 256 Despite the defendants’ oft-noted ambitions for specialized assignments,

McCarthy had showcased them, even Young with her advanced education, as having set unrealistic goals for themselves and, consequently, for the Army. If discrepancies existed between black and white Wac jobs, they were due to a deficiency of abilities, not discrimination. Wacs he asserted, enlisted to serve where their abilities best suited Army needs.543 Since the Army had assigned the majority of black Wacs at Ft. Devens to serve as orderlies, the majority were obviously best suited for this labor. The comparisons to black women’s typical role as domestics, though unstated, were equally evident.

McCarthy’s focus on job suitability compelled Rainey to keep in check references to domestic labor. For instance, when McCarthy asked Young, “Did you ever do menial work before you came in the Army?” Rainey objected before she had a chance to answer.

He then rephrased the question in order to establish that Young had worked in an office before enlisting.544 No doubt in another attempt to counteract the standard imagery of black women as cleaning women, Rainey asked Pvt. Alberta Doss, his witness for the defense, if she had “ever been a maid.” Doss replied, “Only at home.”545

The image of black women as maids continued to linger over the trial, thereby allowing McCarthy to skillfully link the defendants’ refusal to do the work the Army

543 Ibid. McCarthy, 165-6; 212. McCarthy frequently returned to this point during the court- martial.

544 Ibid. Young, testimony, 197.

545 Ibid. Alberta Doss, testimony, 160-162.

257 expected of them, and for which they certainly qualified, to personal character flaws.

Doss’s testimony in this regard is particularly interesting as it highlights a fundamental difference in the way the defendants and the prosecutor viewed complying with orders given the hierarchal racial segmentations of society. For McCarthy, following orders and doing one’s job well was a matter of a good work ethic. For Doss and the defendants, following orders under the conditions that existed at Ft. Devens required bowing down to the indignities of discrimination.

McCarthy: You didn’t get down on your knees and scrub the floor?

Doss: No, sir.

McCarthy: You considered scrubbing floors with a long handled broom beneath

you[r] dignity. Is that correct?

Doss: That is beneath my dignity.

McCarthy then asked her if she “emptied the garbage” as part of her duties at Lovell

Hospital.

Doss: I did.

McCarthy: That was not anything unusual to you, was it, emptying garbage?

Doss: I done it for a reason at home. I did it because I didn’t like the idea of living

in filth.

McCarthy: (in regards to pushing food carts) You felt that was beneath your

dignity?

Doss: Not exactly beneath my dignity. I couldn’t take it out on the patients.

McCarthy: What else did you consider beneath your dignity? Washing windows?

258 Doss: Washing windows. Sir, I didn’t think we went in the Army, when I joined

the Army that I joined the Army to wash windows. I could have stayed at home

and been a maid, I considered. 546

Rainey followed up by asking Doss what job she had envisioned doing as a Wac.

Doss replied recreational hostess and listed her experience working with her former high school sport and drama teams. McCarthy then asked her if her recruiter had told her she

“would be assigned duties in the Army that you were best fitted for, or that the Army thought you were best fitted for?” Doss replied the latter, prompting Rainey to sharply paraphrase the question: “Have you ever been told you were best fitted, by anybody, for menial service?” The prosecutor objected to the question. The Law Member sided with

McCarthy: “I will sustain the objection to the characterization.”547 By suggesting that the

Army practiced discrimination, Rainey had overstepped his boundaries.

Rainey had to carefully maneuver around directly implicating the Army in racist practices. It was not an easy task, and he sometimes slipped. After Young ran through the list of her duties that included cleaning wards, washing dishes, cooking, and serving food,

Rainey asked if she felt “that work … was assigned to you because you were one of the colored Wacs?” The prosecution objected, and the Law Member sustained the objection on the grounds that it was leading.548 Rainey could not veer far from his perception-of-

546 Ibid.

547 Ibid., 164-166. During Rainey’s questioning of the witness, he rephrased the question and asked, “Have you ever been told you were best fitted, by anybody, for menial service?” The Law Member sustained the objection.

548 Ibid. Young, testimony, 199. 259 discrimination strategy. This plan, however, created a contoured defense that tried the patience of the Law Member, the other court members, and especially the prosecutor. By the end of the first day, McCarthy was begging the court and Rainey to know the reason for Doss’s testimony. Rainey explained that since Doss was present when Miles issued the order, she could explain the circumstances that “cause[d] these girls to become temporarily insane” the day they disobeyed the general’s order.549

McCarthy protested. Doss was not a defendant, so her testimony was irrelevant.

Furthermore, he explained, “My objection is that anything that happened two or three days before this happened is not material.”550 Rainey countered that the perceptions of racial job disparities were central to the case. Then, to avoid wading into the unacceptable territory of institutionalized racial discrimination, he emphasized the anxious state of mind that these perceived disparities had caused among his clients.

Rainey sought every available angle to demonstrate how his clients’ insubordination evolved from mental instability. The disparity they felt, he argued, led to great frustration, confusion, and the feeling that the Army was discriminating against them. Ultimately this resulted in “the temporary condition of irresponsibility.” After all, he reminded the court, “At all times, a person must be sane in order to commit a crime in the Army.”551 He continued, “I urge, in support of my questioning, that it is part of the

549 Ibid., 168.

550 Ibid. McCarthy, 170.

551 Ibid. Rainey, 133.

260 defense of these accused that they were temporarily deranged. That is, bordering on temporary insanity and so confused that they didn’t know what they were doing.”552

Debunking his clients’ legitimate complaints by declaring them delusional and unable to cope with reality assisted Rainey’s attempt to bring the women’s accounts of discrimination into the public record, yet it also played on the stereotypes of black women. Many Americans in the 1940s needed little convincing that the defendants were, as African Americans, unintelligent, and as women, childlike and over-emotional.553 As an African American himself, Rainey understood, and most certainly experienced, white presumptions of the frailty of the black mind. Nevertheless, during the trial, he sought to exploit this presumption to his, if not his clients’, advantage. Modern readers may note his purposeful irony in describing his clients’ confusion. After all, he explained in court, they had joined the Army to fight racism abroad only to feel discriminated against at home in the United States. With this statement, Rainey had brought before the court one of the most incredible paradoxes of the war for African Americans who continually asked, “What are we fighting for?”554 Similar irony, however, failed to appear in

Rainey’s comments regarding the defendants’ sex. Referring to Morrison’s alleged hysteria, a term frequently used at the time to describe women’s bouts of crying, Rainey

552 Ibid., 167, 133.

553 Leisa D. Meyer, Creating GI Jane: Sexuality and Power in the Women's Army Corps during World War II (New York: Columbia University Press, 1996), 103.

554 It was a common question among African Americans, and one famously crystallized in a Letter to the Editor of Yank Magazine, 28 April 1944.

261 remarked, “We know the sensibility of the female structure, their physical makeup … very delicate, and subject to emotion where man may contain himself.”555

One might wonder if the defendants had pondered whether their esteemed attorney could have defended them with less insult to their intelligence. Rainey’s determination to provide ample evidence of his clients’ confused state of mind provided them opportunities to describe their treatment at Ft. Devens. Nevertheless, his portrayal of them as confused and mentally unbalanced undermined their observations of inequities and their credibility as capable servicewomen. Years later, Morrison expressed her opinion that Rainey took the case to fulfill an obligation to the NAACP. He was “not really interested in us,” she said. “We all felt that way.”556

Interestingly, Rainey’s psychological defense signified an important addition to the NAACP’s arsenal of legal strategies which would prove increasingly sophisticated – and effective – by the 1950s. In the landmark 1952 case Brown vs. the Board of

Education of Topeka, Thurgood Marshall would employ a similar argument to demonstrate the deeply negative psychological effects of segregation on African

American children.557 As a veteran, Rainey well understood the debilitating effect of racism on Army personnel. It affected African Americans’ opportunities, discipline, and morale. Through his defense strategy of perceptions of discrimination, he had hoped to

555 Rainey, General Court-Martial, U.S. Army v. Young, 312.

556 Author interview with Anna Morrison, 26 March 2002.

557 So successful was the psychological proposition that Chief Justice Earl Warren wrote that segregation led children to “a feeling of inferiority as to their status in the community that may affect their hearts and minds in a way unlikely ever to be undone,” As quoted in Klinkner, Unsteady March, 238.

262 convey the extent of this impact to the officers judging the case and, undoubtedly, to the press covering it. Unfortunately, having accepted the case just three days prior to the trial, he had little time to fully prepare himself or his clients on the finer points of a psychological defense strategy.558

Evidently, Rainey assumed that a strategy based on lack of maturity and intellect required some distancing from his enlisted, less educated clients. “We gentlemen,” he would later advise the court, “We must by a measure of our indulgence or plane of our indulgence have to look down to their level, their background, to the way they were thinking, before we can do justice.”559 At times, Rainey appeared more interested in emphasizing his socio-economic and gender connections with the “gentlemen” of the court than in aligning himself with his female defendants, despite their shared racial identity.

When discussing the race as a whole, Rainey spoke of a unified struggle, declaring, “It is a tough thing to be in this country a colored person.”560 But when discussing his female clients, he described them and their actions as “confused” and

“misguided.” Referring to Young and her failed attempts to gain nursing experience, he gestured, “Note this is a most pathetic case.”561 As racially conscious as the local

558 Most assuredly on the advice of their attorney, the defendants waived their option to have at least five days to prepare for their trial. It is unclear why Rainey did not insist on more time to prepare his case. General Court-Martial, U.S. Army v. Young, 13-16

559 Ibid. Rainey, 321.

560 Ibid. Rainey, Closing Statement, 316.

561 Ibid., 314.

263 NAACP attorney was, he demonstrated little sensitivity of his clients’ sex or class.

Furthermore, Rainey’s inclination to address McCarthy as “brother” throughout the trial took a chance that those judging the case would not find the address too informal or, for those not used to considering black men in a fraternal way, outright irritating.

Without a doubt, Rainey hoped to free the women, yet he also appeared intent on using the well-publicized trial to encourage a multi-racial nation’s understanding of the demoralizing intricacies of segregation in the military. “Many things are involved,” he told the court, “not only as to the merits of the particular case, but as to our social order.”562 The social order certainly consisted of a racial hierarchy, but also a gender hierarchy. In fact, Rainey invoked both realities, though to very different ends. While vehemently decrying racism, he wholly advanced patriarchal understandings of women’s weaknesses. This strategy gained Rainey opportunities to stress the discriminatory practices at Ft. Devens, yet it also gave short-shift to his clients’ capacity, as women, to appropriately manage the situation. When the Law Member inquired into Morrison’s ability to reason between right and wrong, Rainey responded, “She is a normal intelligent person, but with the circumstances of part of this over-all picture of circumstances had induced a state of mind which she was unable or incapable of differentiating between right and wrong as the Army lays it out.”563

Rainey’s reliance on a state of confusion defense could put the defendants in a tough spot while on the stand. When McCarthy, who, ironically, gave the Wacs more

562 Ibid., 312.

563 Ibid. Rainey, 134.

264 credit for understanding their situation than their own lawyer, asked Morrison if she understood General Miles’ order to report to work or face court-martial, Morrison remained silent. In fact, Miles had very clearly delivered the order, and Morrison fully understood it, yet she did not know how to respond given her attorney’s stance that she was too confused to understand. Three times McCarthy asked her the same question and three times she said nothing in return. At last, Rainey interceded and insisted that

McCarthy break down the question into fragments. The prosecutor obliged, and through a series of abbreviated inquiries, he asked Morrison if she understood the order to fall out, the order to fall out in front of the building, the order to fall in to formation, and finally the order to march to her ward. Morrison haltingly answered yes to all only to pause once more when McCarthy repeated the question in full. Morrison said nothing until the Law

Member intervened and urged her to respond. At that point, she appeared to waste no time admitting, “I understood him.564

Rainey questioned the defendants to assess their mental state, and all related incidents in which they felt deeply frustrated – though perhaps not to the extent of a

“monomaniac.” Nevertheless, his effort to manipulate the defendants’ testimony frequently diverted the women from explaining their actions to confessing confusion.

Once again, Morrison is on the stand:

Rainey: How was your brain functioning? Were you confused, or what was your

state of mind?

564 Ibid. Morrison, testimony, 121-122.

265 Morrison: The only way I can explain is to tell you this – If I had had time to

think it over I know now that I would not have told Lieutenant Lawson what I did.

Rainey: I am not talking about that. Did your head feel normal?

Morrison: Yes, sir.

Rainey: No, did your brain –

McCarthy: She said, ‘Yes.’

Rainey: Maybe she don’t know what normal means.

…

Rainey: Did your head feel as clear as it usually felt, that day?

Morrison: Yes, sir.

Rainey: Do you understand me?

McCarthy: (Once again stepping in) She said, ‘Yes.’

…

Rainey: Did you understand my questions when I asked you if your head felt clear

and you could think as well on that day, as you usually felt?

Morrison: I felt that day that I wanted to scream and scream, and I did.

Rainey: (at last, getting the response he needed) You just felt hysterical.565

Interestingly, the prosecutor’s questions occasionally elicited more relevant testimony than Rainey’s investigations into the defendants’ mental states. It was during

McCarthy’s examination of Green when she detailed her frustrations over the different

565 Ibid., 116-117, 244. 221.

266 duties of white and black Wacs. When questioning Young and her statement that she

“couldn’t go on,” the prosecutor gave her the opportunity to explain that she meant that she could not continue under the same conditions, which she then summarized.566

Similarly, McCarthy had asked Morrison to explain her startling declaration to Lawson when she declared, “I have been to work, but I don’t think I can go on. Put my name down for court-martial.” McCarthy’s questions, therefore, also revealed important insight into the women’s condition and their motivations behind the strike.567

To varying degrees, the theme of a higher cause ran through the defendants’ testimony. It had propelled Morrison, Young, and Green to participate in the initial strike, and Murphy to join it as soon as she was able. It also helps explain why they had refused to work even after Miles’ order when they knew, in no uncertain terms, that they would face a court-martial as a result. No one, however, voiced this theme as strenuously as

Murphy through her bold declaration that she would “take death before I would go back to work .”568 Clearly, Murphy interpreted her actions in the larger context of the civil rights movement.

Rainey understood the desire to fight against racism and was doing his best to use the court-martial and the publicity it attracted to expose racial discrimination in the military. Less apparent is whether he understood that his clients’ commitment to the civil rights movement was at least equal to his own. His characterization of them as confused,

566 Ibid. Young, testimony, 220-1.

567 Ibid. Morrison, testimony, 129.

568 Ibid., 241, McCarthy, quoting Murphy’s statement to Lawson, “I would take death before I would go back to work.” Morrison confirmed the statement. Morrison testimony.

267 “temporarily deranged,” and inclined towards displays of a monomania suggests that he did not. Certainly, his creatively-packaged defense strategy, necessitated by a military culture that prohibited racism as a defense, allowed discussion of the discrimination his clients suffered. At the same time, it also presented his clients as weak-minded individuals susceptible to outlandish notions of imagined victimization. Portraying

Green, Morrison, Murphy, and Young as competent service women consciously acting on behalf of other black Wacs would have severely damaged his argument. If Rainey’s defense was a total ruse, and he was aware of his clients’ self-sacrifice, he was not letting on.

On the other hand, McCarthy’s questions and cross-examinations leave little doubt that he was oblivious to the possibility that the defendants’ had acted for the greater good. On the second day of the trial, he challenged the logic of Morrison’s declaration to Lawson that she would strike if it would help her people. McCarthy wondered who she was talking about. “Your people had not done anything,” he said.

Dismissing a collective purpose behind her work-stoppage, he concluded, “You were only looking out for yourself on that day, weren’t you?” To this, Morrison replied,

“Exactly not my own self.” Before the prosecutor moved on to his next point, he saw fit to remind Morrison that she, and she alone, was the one who had disobeyed the order.569

Citizens in the same country, yet with experiences worlds apart, McCarthy and

Morrison were speaking at cross-purposes that day. As a white male officer, McCarthy was not in a position of having to fight for his basic rights and apparently found it

569 Ibid. McCarthy, 128-129.

268 inconceivable that other Americans would have to. During the trial, he indicated his faith in the Army’s policies to ensure a uniform equality of treatment and opportunity. These policies, however, rarely stretched far enough to fully cover black enlisted women.

Consequently, Morrison was in a position of having to defend and fight for the same rights that McCarthy took for granted. Her bold statement attests to her understanding that she was not alone and that her plight as a Wac extended from entrenched racial disparities. Obviously, she drew strength from the civil rights movement’s stance against injustice and inspiration from the many acts of collective and individual resistance that fueled it. On March 9 and 10, Morrison, in her unconfused mind, was indeed striking “for her people.”

To accommodate the number of testimonies, the trial extended into a second day.

It might have required another had Crandall been in court. Instead, he was absent from the proceedings, reportedly on a thirty-day leave. The timing of his departure naturally aroused suspicion, but it was not an unwelcomed development for the NAACP whose

Acting Secretary, Roy Wilkins, had already written to the Secretary of War requesting the colonel’s transfer.570 Without Crandall, the court relied heavily on the testimonies of the defendants’ other superior officers, Lts. Lawson and Stoney.

Lawson was an especially significant party in the case of Murphy. The private had been in the hospital during the original strike action, thereby missing Miles’ order to return to work. Released from the hospital on the afternoon of March 10, she arrived at

570 Letter, Wilkins to Stimson, 15 March 1945, Papers of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People, microfilm, Part 9, Series B, Reel 19/0478/9, Library of Congress.

269 the barracks just after Morrison, Green, and Young had turned themselves in for a court- martial. Once in the fray, she insisted that Lawson put her name on the same list. Lawson denied her request on the grounds that Murphy had yet to be reassigned after her convalescence and was therefore not technically on strike. Once Murphy had her assignment that following Monday morning, she again reported to Lawson with a refusal to go to work. Unlike the others who were charged with disobeying Miles, Murphy was charged with disobeying Lawson.

Lawson’s testimony was also essential due to her position as the commander of all three WAC companies at Ft. Devens, including the black WAC detachment. In response to Rainey’s inquiries, she provided a breakdown of white and black Wac duties.

This query revealed that 40 percent of white Wacs working at the hospital were clerical staff while no black Wacs working at the hospital held this position. Just 6 percent of the entire black WAC detachment, primarily the company cadre, served in this capacity.

Despite the vast disparities in assignment by race, the prosecution asked Lawson if she had “observed any discrimination between the duties assigned to colored Wacs and white

Wacs in the same MOS (Military Occupation Specialty).” Lawson replied that she had not. To substantiate her position, she recalled her week-long convalescence at Lovell

Hospital North, where white Wacs worked, and noted that they had “scrubbed, cleaned, mopped up, and washed dishes.” Under Rainey’s questioning, Lawson admitted that just

15 of the 173 white Wacs worked as orderlies, or just 8 percent compared to 60 percent of black Wacs.571

571 She also testified that she had even witnessed the ward mistress scrubbing. Lawson, testimony, General Court-Martial, U.S. Army v. Young, 253-277. 270 Rainey probed Lawson’s memory regarding the defendants’ interest in returning to work after having turned themselves in for a court-martial. Young reported that within an hour of turning herself in for a court-marital, she had pleaded with Lawson to give her a chance to go back to work only to be told no. Green also said that she had explained to

Lawson her concerns about a possible pregnancy, but that she wanted to go back to work rather than face a court-martial. Lawson said that neither Young nor Green had expressed this interest until she visited them two days later in their confinement quarters. At that point, she explained that she approached each one individually and asked, if she had a chance, would she return to work. Young and Green said they would. Morrison asked her if there was a chance. When Lawson replied no, she stated, “If it will help my people by me taking a court-martial, I would be willing to take it.” Rainey asked Lawson why she had posed the question if returning to work was not a possibility. She replied, “I wanted to know for my own information.”572 It was hardly a satisfactory response, but after several go-rounds on the curious incident, Rainey let the matter drop. Clearly Lawson would reveal little else on her motivations behind her inquiry.

Stoney was also summoned to the court-martial as the detachment’s first-line commanding officer. Her testimony was additionally significant because she was, like the defendants, an African American Wac. When she took the stand, those judging the case could reasonably assume that as a black woman, she would be aware of racial discrimination if it existed at Lovell Hospital. Exploiting her allegiance to her

572 Ibid., 42; 120.

271 commanding officers, the prosecution relied heavily on her comments.573 Regarding the existence of racial discrimination at Ft. Devens, McCarthy asked her, “Have you ever observed any difference in the duties that the white Wac orderlies have in the hospital and those duties that the colored orderlies have?” Stoney responded, “I have not, sir.”574

The defense asked her how she knew what white Wacs did in comparison with her own troops. Stoney replied that in December she had regularly visited Lt. Sophie Gay, the officer she had recently replaced, at Lovell Hospital North where she was a patient.

While there, she recalled, she noticed white Wacs cleaning the ward and working in the kitchen. Stoney not only offered personal observations as proof that white and black orderlies did similar work, she also confirmed the prosecution’s position that her troops did not qualify for the same technician and clerical assignments that white Wacs did.575

Rainey challenged each point of Stoney’s testimony. He reminded her that, according to the defendants, members of the detachment had brought numerous complaints before her, including during their weekly meetings. Stoney admitted that while her troops had occasionally noted their dissatisfaction with their jobs, they had not tied their complaints to the duties of white Wacs.576 She recalled one exception, the issue of KP (Kitchen Police), a duty that black Wacs, but not white Wacs, filled. She testified

573 Ibid. McCarthy, closing statement, 336. During his closing statement, McCarthy referred to her as a “very sincere member of her race” as he contrasted her testimony over the lack of discrimination at Ft. Devens to those of the defendants who claimed racism as the cause of their actions.

574 Ibid. Stoney, testimony, 277.

575 Ibid. McCarthy, closing statement, 326.

576 Ibid. Stoney, testimony, 287.

272 that she had only learned of this grievance during her meeting with the orderlies the day before the strike and, therefore, had no time before the incident to discuss it with

Lawson.577 Young, on the other hand, testified that members of her detachment had first broached Stoney about KP duty as early as one month after their arrival and several times afterwards.578 Rainey grilled Stoney over an apparent lack of responsiveness to her subordinates’ concerns over their jobs. She countered that she was in charge only of assignments, not the classifications that determined those assignments.

Stoney was partially correct. It was Crandall’s responsibility to requisition Wacs, black and white, and he did so according to classifications he had determined were needed at the two hospitals he administered. Consequently, as directed by Crandall, most of the black Wacs arrived at Ft. Devens with the lowest classification possible in the

Army. At this juncture, Stoney had reason to assume that she had little leeway in their assignments. Not only were her troops earmarked, due to their classification, for menial work, but Crandall obviously expected them to work as orderlies. Nevertheless, Stoney’s knowledge of her authority in the matter paled in comparison with that of Lawson. When questioned about white Wac assignments, Lawson explained that, as an officer, she had the right to submit requests for changes through a Classification Board. She then summarized the qualifications needed for technical assignments.579 Working with white

577 Ibid., 291-2.

578 Ibid. Young, testimony, 309.

579 Ibid. Lawson, testimony, 271; Stoney, testimony, 276.

273 Wacs, Lawson was familiar with the process. Working with black Wacs, Stoney, and perhaps Gay, were not.

Rainey plied Stoney with questions to ascertain why she had not attempted to address her troops’ grievances. She cited the limitations of both her authority and her troops’ abilities. To be sure, Stoney had little chance of successfully altering the assignments of her enlisted troops. Crandall and Lawson’s disinterest in the black Wacs, her troops’ low classifications, and her own seemingly timid nature would have severely hampered her efforts. Furthermore, Stoney had replaced Gay only a little over a month before the strike and was still adjusting to the responsibilities of her position. In her new role, she had a duty to uphold her commanders’ orders, but she also had an obligation to her troops. Stoney handled these often conflicting expectations by keeping her emotions in check. It was not an easy task, yet one, as she suggested in her testimony, she stoically accepted. Yes, she too had found Crandall’s “black Wac” comment disturbing. “I got mad,” she said, “and then I got all right.” Yes, she had also been deeply embarrassed by her own troops’ crying and cursing during that March 9 meeting with Crandall, yet she declined to castigate the enlisted Wacs, noting instead that, “I felt they could have handled their emotions a little better than that.”580 Pressed between her two allegiances,

Stoney obviously decided to play it safe by smoothing over problems rather than addressing them and avoiding conflicts rather than confronting them. When this was not possible, the new detachment commander, neither confident nor comfortable in her leadership role, aligned her dual responsibilities according to one overriding constant:

580 Ibid. Stoney, testimony, 298.

274 Crandall’s intentions to confine the majority of black Wacs to one assignment (orderlies) and in one hospital (Lovell South).581 Stoney had attempted to address her troops’ concerns, though within this limited framework.

On the afternoon of the second day of the court-martial, closing statements began.

Defense Attorney Rainey summed up for the court the defendants’ perceptions of discrimination that “their immature minds,” as he phrased it, had fostered. In an effort to officially distance his comments (calculated to subtly invite criticism of segregation) from a formal condemnation of the practice, Rainey insisted, “I am not saying this is true, but they felt they were persecuted, and this persecution complex was driving them on.”

They were like “misguided children,” away from home for the first time and not knowing enough about the intricacies of race relations or military policy. Pointing to Murphy, he lamented, “This girl said, ‘I will take death.’ Think of the poor immature girl who says that. They were confused, gentlemen.”582

Rainey explained Murphy and the defendants’ state of mind by adroitly inserting many of the arguments against a segregated army. “America, of course, is the only country in the world that segregates soldiers because of color.” It was therefore confusing to the women to read that black and white troops from England and Canada worked side- by-side while American troops did not. Rainey added that it was not “you gentlemen’s responsibility, not the Army’s responsibility, but probably the responsibility of a

581 Eventually Stoney’s superiors would cite her inability “to take specific action in her own right [as] one of the causes of dissatisfaction among the Negro enlisted women, which eventually led to their refusal to perform their assigned tasks.” Summary, War Department Investigation.

582 Rainey, closing statement, General Court-Martial, U.S. Army v. Young, 316-320.

275 democracy which is somewhat defective.” It was the “over-all” picture of enlisting to join the fight against discrimination abroad while being segregated at home that was problematic for the women. “The unconditional surrender of those individuals who discriminate against men and women because of an accident of birth,” Rainey reminded the court, “is what we are fighting for.”583 “They read the papers and these things are preying on their minds.” His clients’ feelings, therefore, “whether they are justified or not” were real to them.

Rainey intermixed the theme of his clients’ confusion with his patriotic appeal to the nation’s humanitarian reasons behind the war. Unable to directly link such confusion to racial discrimination in the Army, he emphasized the defendants’ role in their confused state. “It can be compared to the situation of a rat that has been caught, and it is fighting, popping back, as you hit it, in this terrible position from which there is no escape.” It was an apt comparison to describe the trap the segregated Army presented African Americans and one in which Rainey could no doubt relate. Rats, however, also represented small brains, a characteristic that Rainey widely exploited. During his summation, Rainey attributed his clients’ confusion to their female weakness: “It is, gentlemen intellectual development.” Later still, he proposed, “They were confused, gentlemen. Their minds were not the minds of normal persons. They had what we call a persecution complex.” At last, Rainey appealed to the court to administer justice based on the reasons for their

583 Ibid., 317.

276 confusion, to “look down to their level, their background, to the way they were thinking” as they evaluated the defendants and their actions.584

McCarthy’s closing statement discounted the defense’s allusions to institutional racism, perceived or real. Referencing Stoney’s testimony, he asserted that she had verified that discrimination was not at issue in this case. The defendants were not mis- assigned or ill-treated. Indeed, he had asked all five of the Wacs who testified, including

Doss, about their duties, and heard no complaints that they were too “arduous.” They worked as orderlies, not because they were black, but because their skills were best suited for this task. The Army was not racist, he assured the court. “Just because people are colored from an accident of birth – I might have been – you might have been – … we hold nothing against them.” McCarthy then listed some of the achievements of the race.585 Having acknowledged the race issue, he put it aside with a reminder that the court-martial had not been convened to discuss the finer points of Army policy. Instead, the question before them was whether the four defendants had knowingly and willfully disobeyed a direct order from their commanding officers. “The issue is as simple and direct as that,” he said.586

McCarthy then turned to the issue of the defendant’s sex, and implored the jury to resist a lenient verdict “because they were women and so forth.” The defendants were

584 Ibid., 317-321.

585 Ibid., 328. McCarthy noted, “We appreciate the fact that some of them, some of their race are the best scholars, orators, lawyers and so forth of our time.”

586 Ibid. McCarthy, closing statement, 321-328. The prosecution began its closing remarks, “The issue is simple and direct. Did these girls receive a lawful command from a superior officer?”

277 enlisted soldiers who had failed to perform their duties.587 To punctuate his point, the prosecutor delivered an unsparing chastisement of the four for having left their posts:

These people are members of the armed forces who didn’t care for their

job, because it was beneath their dignity to carry garbage or do that sort of

work. They didn’t want to do their job because they didn’t like it. We

can’t run an Army that way. There are lots of things I have to do that I

don't like and that you have to do that you don’t like, but we do them the

best we can, even though we may grumble, and take a chance of getting

something else.588

With this statement, the prosecutor had inadvertently hit on the exact motivation behind the strike. The women had risked a court-martial precisely because they had no other “chance for getting something else.” So at odds were McCarthy’s experiences from that of the defendants that he compared common workplace grumbling to the defendants’ difficult decision to strike, even condensing their grievances to a simple, “They were not satisfied with their jobs. Isn’t that just too bad.”589 Their refusal to work, however, had required tremendous courage wrought over months of broken promises. They knew that by challenging the Army, they risked much, perhaps putting their futures on the line.

Except for Murphy, all had spotless military records which they expected would translate

587 Ibid., 328.

588 Ibid. (Emphasis added by author.)

589 Ibid., 326.

278 into skilled Army jobs, satisfying civilian careers, and an escape from the menial labor that trapped most African American women. Only after months of unaddressed grievances that threatened this goal had they risked a court-martial. Unbeknownst to

McCarthy, when black women took the “chance for getting something else,” it sometimes required that they not follow protocol.

Late in the afternoon of March 20, after two days of testimony, the court adjourned. Rainey left immediately after the trial for his Boston home, seemingly pleased with his performance. The Law Member and the officers on the jury, after all, had given him wide-berth to pursue his arguments, and he had taken advantage of the opportunity to expose the debilitating effects of segregation. As he departed Ft. Devens, he told reporters that he felt the trial had been fair. An hour and ten minutes later, the members of the court returned their verdict.590 In a secret ballot, two-thirds of the members found the four women guilty of disobeying their commanding officer.591 The sentence followed, and its severity stunned those in the courtroom. For their act of insubordination, each defendant received one year of confinement with hard labor, loss of pay, and a dishonorable discharge. Once in the corridor, Morrison “broke down completely” and had to be carried to a waiting vehicle.592 From his home, Rainey retracted his earlier statement

590 “Court-Martial Convicts 4 Wacs; Negroes Allege Discrimination,” The Herald Tribune, 21 March 1945.

591 General Court-Martial, U.S. Army v. Young, 328.

592 Morrison had “become hysterical and had to be pushed while screaming into a waiting army car,” Eugene Zack, “Notables Demand Probe in Conviction of Wacs,” The Chicago Defender, 31 March 1945.

279 and declared that “what they did was not their fault, but the result of a defective democracy which rendered them incapable of knowing what they were doing.”593

Rainey’s assessment was only half right. A “defective democracy” had led to the trial, but the four defendants had known what they were doing when they chose to strike.

They had drawn, first collectively and then individually, the line on the discriminatory treatment that they would accept. They had their doubts, and two tried to withdraw from the court-martial, yet each had on two separate occasions made this conscious decision because she believed that she had a right, if not an obligation, to resist discriminatory treatment in the Army. As Murphy testified, “I believed that I was doing the right thing

… to better the way we were treated.”594 Such grounds for insubordination, however, did not fit into acceptable parameters of military personnel grievance – at least not under segregation, and therein lay a defect of American democracy. Furthermore, a defective democracy ensured the conviction of Green, Young, Murphy, and Morrison while largely excusing the officers who had failed to properly attend to their assignments and morale.

Ultimately, the trial ended in a guilty verdict as did virtually all race-charged courts-martial of African American service personnel before and during World War II.

More to the point, as the Ft. Devens court-martial illustrates, the military judicial system at the time essentially guaranteed this outcome, and it did so through its strict prohibition of racism as a defense. Unable to cite the full truth, defense teams were forced to grasp

593 “Wacs Sentenced to Year of Hard Labor,” The Boston Herald, 21 March 1945; also see “Court-Martial Convicts 4 Wacs; Negroes Allege Discrimination,” The Herald Tribune, 21 March 1945.

594 Murphy, testimony, General Court-Martial, U.S. Army v. Young, 237.

280 for alternative reasons to explain their clients’ actions. Naturally, this ensured flawed platforms of defense. For instance, Rainey claimed that his clients had misunderstood

Miles’ carefully crafted order even though they had well understood it. The prohibition could also necessitate a convoluted defense. Rainey tiptoed around the actual cause of his clients’ actions by submitting that, though racial discrimination may not have existed at the base hospitals, the women perceived that it did, though they may not have, in fact, been experiencing it at all. McCarthy frequently noted his exceptional forbearance of the defense counsel’s tangled arguments that bordered on the preposterous, and with some cause. McCarthy, however, was unaware that he had the privilege of specifically naming and openly discussing the actual reasons behind motivations as he saw them whereas

Rainey could not. In race-charged cases during World War II, no defense lawyer could.

It is doubtful that McCarthy or anyone else present that day would ever hear a case argued in quite the same manner – or would have that day had Rainey been defending black male defendants. Americans viewed servicemen as representing the epitome of manhood, an idealized prototype of strength, courage, and self-control.

Lawyers presenting male clients as weak, confused, and prone to hysterics would have delegitimized them as competent soldiers (and played into the hands of those who had long derided black men in uniform). Women soldiers, of any race, were not held to the same standards of masculinity that the Army so honored. Indeed, the Army deliberately separated them into a corps of their own. Celebrating their femininity and their service as assistants to its main forces of men, the Army attempted to preserve conventional gendered distinctions between the sexes. The Ft. Devens trial indicates how the Army (as

281 represented by McCarthy) and, indeed society (as represented by Rainey), defined Wacs as women first and as service personnel second.

The famed court-martial of black Wacs also illustrates the entrenched subjugation of black women in American society in the 1940s and, crucially, how military trials reinforced traditional patterns that fed this subjugation. Draped in the standard protocols of the military’s justice system, the Ft. Devens WAC court-martial might easily be seen as a break from those patterns. Indeed, the jury’s relative diversity, the leeway granted

Rainey to expound on controversial theories, and the defendants’ testimonies contrasting the treatment between white and black service personnel were noteworthy. In comparison with similar cases, however, these advances may be seen as showpieces of a well- choreographed trial for a national audience.595 The Army provided the stage of the courtroom, possibly the script (evidently briefing Stoney and perhaps the ward men), and the appropriate cast of characters which did not (conveniently) include Crandall. It also did not include Beale, with whom Young appeared on friendly, first-name terms, due to his inconveniently-timed furlough. A veneer of blind justice evoked fairness and equality for the public. Underneath this shining shell of democratic fair play, a sense that the defendants, as black women, were out of their depth in the military dominated the proceedings.

The reinforcement of subjugation of black women is readily apparently in the Ft.

Devens court-martial’s language and the underlying themes. Throughout the proceedings,

McCarthy addressed the defendants as “Miss.” He and others referred to the women, all

595 See Chapter 8, “Mutinous Behavior” for a comparison of World War II court-martials.

282 in their early twenties, as “girls.” Also regularly applied to white women, the term, in the

1940s, did not incite the same offended response as calling black men “boys.” Though

American women by-and-large accepted the reference without a thought, comparisons of them to girls nonetheless represented their diminished status in society compared to men.

The court also bandied about the term “hysteria,” as did the defendants. Though it refers to uncontrollable emotional outburst, possibly linked to psychological disorders, during the trial it often stood for exclusively female bouts of crying. Additionally, the defendants were responsible to ward men, also called ward masters. At Lovell Hospital South, all of the ward masters were white men who directed orderlies’ cleaning duties. Though the same term was used at Lovell Hospital North with white Wacs, the employment of the term among black women at the other hospital easily conjured up historical roots of black women’s servitude status. Such connotations even helped clear the road to make the excessive differences between black and white Wac assignments, as Lawson’s data substantiated, pass as acceptable. Along with similar norms within the civilian workforce, these connections of black women as menial laborers gave force to McCarthy’s argument regarding the relative ease of their cleaning jobs, complete with long-handled brooms, compared to civilian household domestics. The language and much of the discourse reinforced a cultural stereotype of black women as menial laborers.

All the while, the defendants asserted their rights as, first and foremost, full- fledged members of the WAC. Their explanations were clear, and their suspicions of discrimination, as plainly seen in the statistics, were accurate. Nevertheless, the convoluted defense strategy, the language of subjugation, and the pervasive connection of the black Wacs with menial labor undermined their testimony. As noted in the 283 summations, their versions and explanations carried little weight. They did provide, however, fodder for the positions of the prosecutor and the defense attorney who, from their perches of authority in the courtroom, reframed the women’s testimonies from rational explanations to either delusional self-aggrandizements or confusion. This was true of both lawyers, if for different purposes. McCarthy, as we have seen, portrayed the

Wacs as subversive, lazy, and stubbornly claiming capabilities beyond their reach.

Rainey presented them as mentally immature, emotional, and incapable of making proper sense of their situation. Whether prosecuting or defending them, these men sought to divest the women of their agency to think logically for themselves and articulate their purpose, and they did so by exploiting the presumed weaknesses of their female sex.

Despite the pronounced focus on race during the trial, the case was also firmly rooted in the era’s prevailing gendered paradigms.

Frightened and embittered, the now-convicted Wacs were escorted from the court-room, visibly distressed. They could not have been surprised by Lawson’s testimony, but they might have expected more support from their defense attorney and their detachment commander. The latter two had failed them, Rainey as an African

American and Stoney as a black Wac. They also may have felt betrayed by their wardmen with whom they had worked and developed friendships. In the end, however, it would not have mattered if Rainey had represented them more favorably, or if Stoney had backed their claims of discrimination, or if Wicks, the sergeant in charge of all enlisted personnel at Lovell Hospital South, had cited in court his alleged remark, according to

284 Young, that black Wacs were not getting “a dirty deal.”596 The Wacs would not have won. Their case was too well-grounded in the prevailing racism of the time. The first successful use of this defense would not occur until 1971.597

596 In the War Department’s Investigation of the case, Young described running into Wicks when she escorted another Wac back to her ward, and she stated that the sergeant had expressed his sympathy of the black Wacs’ situation in these terms At the trial, however, Sgt. Wicks testified that he had seen Young away from her ward and had heard her say that she would not return to work. Young, interview, War Department Investigation, 545-546; “Review by Service Command Judge Advocate, 2 April 1945, included in the documents of the War Department Investigation,” 5.

597 The case involved two black soldiers who had gone AWOL from their base in West Berlin. When the court allowed evidence of racial harassment and the men’s understandable concerns over their safety, it found grounds to acquit them. Foner, Blacks and the Military in American History, 229-2.

285 Chapter 7. The Civilian Reaction

“All of Boston is rife with speculation this week as to the pros and cons of the Fort Devens Negro Wacs sit-down strike.” 598

Anna Morrison, Johnnie Murphy, Alice Young, and Mary Green participated in the strike in order to call attention to their grievances – and so they had. Public reaction to their testimony was swift and widespread as the black press and mainstream press seized upon its provocative themes of racial segregation and women in the military. “All of

Boston is rife with speculation this week as to the pros and cons of the … strike,” proclaimed Leotha Hackshaw, a Pittsburgh Courier reporter who had attended the trial.

“Because the strike of the Negro Wacs is the first of its kind,” she added, “the case has aroused unusual interest in this city – especially among the Negro residents.”599 In fact, the case was also of keen interest to blacks and to whites in Boston and beyond. The day after the guilty verdict and the stunning sentence, Marty Richardson of the black press weekly The Boston Chronicle declared, “The Fort Devens Wac case may well become one of the leading court-martial cases of this war.”600 According to Richardson, the trial

598 Leotha Hackshaw, “New Evidence in WAC Case: Reopening Sought by Julian Rainey,” Pittsburgh Courier, 31 March 1945, national edition (Columbus: Ohio State University) microfilm.

599 Ibid.

600 Marty Richardson, “Fort Devens WACS Have Two Day Trial,” Boston Chronicle, 21 March 1945 “Discrimination in the U.S. Armed Forces, 1918-1955,” NAACP Papers, Reel 19, Part 9, Series B, 1940-1955 (Columbus: Ohio State University) microfilm. 286 was “NOT a Massachusetts case,” but rather “a showdown between the United States

Army’s jim-crow, Anti-Negro element and the American Democracy this country is seeking to bring to the world.”601 In light of other military trials, including the Port

Chicago Mutiny of fifty black seamen and the Hawaii Mutiny of seventy-three others,

Richardson may have been overstating the contemporary impact of the Wac strike.602

Given the overwhelming civilian reaction, however, the Ft. Devens court-martial of black

Wacs had clearly stoked passions among Americans across the nation in the spring of

1945. The women’s decision to “take a court-martial” had given the four Wac privates the chance to air their grievances in a military court and, so it turned out, in the court of public opinion, too.

Contemporary news reports and official correspondence surrounding the Ft.

Devens Wac strike provide a survey of the civilian reactions to the case and with it, the racial and gendered divisions in which journalists, ordinary citizens, activists, and politicians operated. For instance, impressions of the court-martial’s adjudication of the case aligned mainly along racial lines. African Americans were nearly unanimous in their support of the Wacs, accepting that racial discrimination had a role in their insubordination; the mainstream press and military officials were nearly unanimous in judging the trial fair and the sentences appropriate, arguing that no Army can tolerate insubordination under any circumstances. Additionally, the prominence of the African

601 Ibid.

602 Both cases are furthered discussed in Chapter 8, “Other Mutinies.” Florence Murray, The Negro Handbook, 1946-47 (New York: Current Books, Inc., 1947), 347-350.

287 American voices in the matter and the high level of white support for the Wacs, despite mainstream coverage, attests to the increasingly wide influence of the battle-hardened civil rights national network during World War II. In this regard, the intense publicity of the case exposes fault lines within both racial groups as Americans individually grappled with their values of democracy, equality, and justice. Finally, a survey of the civilian response showcases how direct citizen action propelled a standard charge of insubordination to a case of national prominence that soon gained the attention of the nation's most formidable attorneys at the War Department and in the National

Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP). It was an unusual development, the result of unusual defendants who sparked discussions in newspapers and letters.

Despite the divergent tracks the black and mainstream press would pursue, the main facts of the case were not in dispute, thereby lending some uniformity to the reporting of the trial. Most newspapers quoted Colonel Walter Crandall’s alleged comment that black Wacs were there to do the “dirty work” after he saw Pvt. Young teaching another black Wac how to take a patient’s temperature. They also acknowledged the women’s refusal to obey the direct order of Major General Sherman Miles, commanding officer of the First Service Command. Both presses reported the ratio imbalance of black and white Wac assignments at Ft. Devens and the denial of the defendants’ black Wac officer, First Lieutenant Tenola Stoney, that this was due to race.

They also duly noted Crandall’s sudden departure from Ft. Devens just days before the trial. Lastly, all routinely stated the names and towns of the defendants and then, aside from a few human interest stories in the defendants’ hometown papers, said little else 288 about them. High interests in the women’s testimonies did not translate into interest in the four as individuals. Instead, both presses generally placed Young, Green, Morrison, and

Murphy into well-worn narratives of race and military policies – albeit, with a gendered twist. Overall, the black and mainstream presses included much of the same basic information about the trial. It was their Interpretations, emphasis, and embellishments that differed.

Among virtually all African Americans, civilian support for the Wacs remained as firm as it had since news of the strike broke. A week after the trial, The Pittsburgh

Courier summed up the general consensus of its readers. Noting that “it is all very well for some people to condemn these four Negro Girls,” the Courier cited the Army as also culpable in the affair because it was working against the same principles for which it is fighting.603 The black press assured its readers that it did not condone disobeying Army orders, but rather recognized that extenuating circumstances existed due to the Army’s segregation policies. Echoing Rainey’s defense strategy, some highlighted the effects of discrimination on the women’s “state of mind.”604 A featured columnist for The Chicago

Defender known as Charley Cherokee took this line of reasoning further, suggesting that the Army goaded the women into insubordination. Rolling out his hypothesis of deliberate instigation by Army officers, he argued that the Wacs “got so mad over race prejudice, they refused to obey orders,” thereby doing “just what whites want them to”

603 “Fruits of Jim Crow,” Pittsburgh Courier, 31 March 1945, national edition (Columbus: Ohio State University) microfilm.

604 Ibid.

289 and getting court-martialed.605 The Boston Chronicle joined others in voicing outrage over the severe sentences, though it acknowledged that their punishment was just a fraction of those received by black men.606

As details of the trial emerged, the black press focused on several individuals who featured prominently in the case, though rarely on Morrison, Murphy, Young, and Green beyond references to their testimonial evidence of racial disparity. Their civilian defense attorney, Julian Rainey, gained moderate attention. It was, however, at best lukewarm praise for his performance.607 Even an apparently genuine attempt by Richardson of The

Boston Chronicle to applaud Rainey for his efforts focused on the lawyer’s generous pro- bono acceptance of the case.608 The paucity of discussion in the black press over Rainey’s effectiveness in court suggests that African Americans were not greatly impressed. On the other hand, they were courteous. After all, Rainey had managed to inject into the well-publicized trial the negative effects of racism on the morale and the psyche of

African Americans. In comparison, commentators increasingly criticized Stoney for

605 Despite his penname, Charley Cherokee was African American. Charley Cherokee, “National Grapevine” column, Chicago Defender, 31 March 1945, national edition, 11 (ProQuest Historical Newspapers, accessed through Ohio State University); the other was Percival L. Prattis, discussed later in the chapter.

606 Marty Richardson, “Fort Devens WACS Have Two Day Trial.”

607 In his review of the case, Charles Houston (Dean of Howard University Law School, former Special Counselor to the NAACP, and Thurgood Marshall’s mentor) credited Rainey for introducing the psychological effects of discrimination; yet felt that he had not developed the evidence of discrimination well enough. Report from Charles Houston to Mary McLeod Bethune, 26 April 1945, “Discrimination in the U.S. Armed Forces, 1918-1955,” NAACP Papers, Reel 19, Part 9, Series B, 1940-1955 (Columbus: Ohio State University) microfilm.

608 Richardson, “Fort Devens WACS Have Two Day Trial.”

290 testifying that discrimination did not exist at Ft. Devens. Given the obvious inequities between white and black Wac assignments that the trial exposed, Stoney’s statement appeared wantonly irresponsible and was assuredly detrimental to her troops’ defense. No one, however, was more immediately or roundly excoriated in the black press than

Crandall for his alleged remarks that black Wacs were there to do the “dirty work.” As one commentator explained in The Afro-American, “In our book, Colonel Crandall’s offense, if proved, is far more serious than that of the four young women” because it serves to “libel every colored woman in the United States.”609 Just as he had for the Ft.

Devens black Wacs, the hapless Crandall made an easy target for the black press.

Black journalists kept readers informed about the trial, yet as Hackshaw’s and

Richardson’s proclamations of the case’s significance denote, they often did so with a passion born of a great injustice. Segregation of African American service personnel and, to varying degrees, African American civilians, was an inescapable reality throughout the

United States regardless of how accomplished, respected, or wealthy an individual.

Therefore, the discrimination the Wacs faced at Ft. Devens was both familiar and personal. A renowned black activist, Rebecca Stiles Taylor, headlined her column in The

Chicago Defender with a question: “Four Negro Wacs Call for Justice. Will They Be

Heard?” In the same edition, an outraged Cherokee Charley supplied a likely rejoinder

609 “The Wacs and the Seabees,” Afro-American, 14 April 1945 (Clipping from Alice Young’s scrapbook, received from Stacie Porter).

291 among his readers when declared that the military made a practice of court-martialing

African Americans.610

The black press, perpetually operating on shoestring budgets, also needed to sell papers, and sensational content sold. Before the trial, The Amsterdam News boldly headlined the alarming news that “4 Wacs Face Death Penalty.” In much smaller print embedded in the middle of her article, its author, Constance Curtis, conceded this was a highly unlikely outcome. A Pittsburgh Courier heading, “New Evidence in Wac Court-

Martial,” also provoked curiosity, yet the article gave no clue of this new evidence other than repeating Rainey’s claim that it was, indeed, “sensational.” Given the stunning news surrounding the case, tailoring headlines to emotionally rivet readers was unnecessary.

The headline “4 Wacs Sentenced to Hard Labor after Ft. Devens Strike,” easily summarized the court-martial’s dramatic conclusion. The announcement that “Dr.

Bethune Backs 4 WACS’ Appeal,” paired the much admired Mary McLeod Bethune with the promising development of a highly anticipated second trial. The facts of the case made for sensational copy on their own.

However exaggerated or factual the captions and the content that followed, they captured the slant of the black press. Commentators for instance, labeled the initial collective action of the Ft. Devens Wacs a “strike” and a “sit-down” protest, though never a “mutiny.” They also regularly compared the Army’s treatment of the Wacs to civilian

610 Rebecca Stiles Taylor, “Federated Clubs: Four Negro Wacs Call for Justice. Will They Be Heard?” Chicago Defender, 31 March 1945, national edition, 15, ProQuest Historical Newspapers, accessed through Ohio State University); Charley Cherokee, “National Grapevine” column.

292 Jim Crow practices. For the black press and its readers, the Ft. Devens incident offered clear proof of the conflict between segregation and promises of equitable treatment – and, therefore, the reasons for challenging the court-martial verdict.611

In the first weeks after the verdict, the mainstream press treated the court-martial much the same as they had the strike, as a curiosity. Coverage was uneven. Papers in large metropolitan areas serving large black populations, including The Washington Post,

New York Times, and Chicago Tribune, kept tabs on the case. The Southern state of

Georgia’s capital city newspaper, The Atlanta Constitution, mentioned the strike, though not the Northern state of Ohio’s capital city paper, The Columbus Dispatch.612 Time magazine covered it; Newsweek did not. The fact that the mainstream press reported news of a relatively small-scale court-martial of four privates at all was an unusual development. White Americans were drawn to the case with its odd cast of defendants who significantly increased national attention to the strike that it would not have had otherwise.

In contrast to the black press’s fulsome support of the convicted Wacs, the mainstream press found little to excuse in the defendants’ decision to disobey their

611 Constance H. Curtis, “4 Wacs Face Death Penalty,” New York Amsterdam News,” (Clipping from Alice Young’s scrapbook, received from Stacie Porter); “4 Wacs Sentenced to Hard Labor after Ft. Devens Strike,” unlabeled (Clipping from Alice Young’s scrapbook, received from Stacie Porter); “Dr. Bethune Backs 4 WACS’ Appeal,“ Bethune Foundation collection pt. 1, writings, diaries, scrapbooks, biographical materials and files on the National Youth, Reel 10, (Columbus: Ohio State University) microfilm; Hackshaw, “New Evidence in WAC Case”; Eugene Zack, “Devens Wacs Stage Sitdown,” Chicago Defender, 24 March 1945, national edition, 3 (ProQuest Historical Newspapers, accessed through Ohio State University); “Fruits of Jim Crow,” Pittsburgh Courier.

612 “Wac Group Confined in Discipline Action,” Atlanta Constitution, 12 March 1945, 9.

293 officers. Rooting its perspective in traditional obligations of a soldier to man his duty station and follow orders, the mainstream press favored the Army’s position and often praised Miles. Most at some point remarked on the patience the general demonstrated in his dealings with insubordinate service personnel. The mainstream press also alerted readers to the prosecutor’s expressed purpose of the case. As Major Leon McCarthy had laid it out to the court members, “The only question is whether they,” referring to the black Wac defendants, “disobeyed an order directly given to them.”613 For white readers on the privileged side of racial discrimination, this seemed a sensible position.

Under this narrow context of insubordination, the mainstream press occasionally suggested that the female defendants were unsuited for military service. According to The

Boston Post, Morrison went on strike “because I had been having trouble with my stomach as a result of the type of work assigned.”614 The Chicago Daily News described the Wacs as having simply “ignored” Miles order.615 The Atlanta Constitution devoted the final quarter of its already terse 15-line column on the strike to point out that Lovell

Hospital, where the Wacs refused to work, cared for “hundreds of soldiers who have been wounded overseas.”616 In such articles, the defendants appeared more as pampered girls

613 “Year At Labor Given 4 WACs At Fort Devens,” Fitchburg (Mass.) Sentinel, 21 March 1945.

614 “Wac Denies Charge she Disobeyed: Declares Illness, Not Mutiny, Reason for Not Working,” Boston Post, 20 March, 1945, “Publicity, Ads, 1942-1949,” Box 296, File 228_01, WHC-528, Army Women’s Museum Archives, Ft. Lee, VA.

615 ”Colonel Voiced Bias, Colored WAC Testifies,” Washington Star, 20 March 1945, “Publicity, Ads, 1942-1949,” Box 296, File 228_01, WHC-528, Army Women’s Museum Archives, Ft. Lee, VA.

616 “Wac Group Confined in Discipline Action,” Atlanta Constitution.

294 than stalwart soldiers. Indeed, The Constitution’s observation inferred that the Wacs had abandoned injured men who had fulfilled their duties under far more dire circumstances than found at Lovell Hospital, an ocean away from the frontlines. The Washington Post spelled it out for readers, asserting that “the tradition of unquestioning obedience has not yet been developed among our women soldiers.”617 Likewise The Boston Herald observed, “Of course, these are women and Wacs really aren’t soldiers, but discipline is discipline and there is no color line in the oath of allegiance.”618

Initially, the mainstream press duly carried the commentaries of civil rights leaders, politicians, and other notables who defended the Wacs. In time, however, it would treat the defendants’ liberal supporters as provocateurs and view their interests in the case with suspicion. In mid-April, Time reported that the sentence had provoked protests by “Negro and radical leaders.”619 The Boston Herald also recognized radical intentions among the Wacs’ supporters, claiming that “The basic charge was discrimination – the familiar anti-unity red rag.”620 To the surprise of many, the usually liberal-leaning Christian Science Monitor took a similar stance. In his lengthy exposé of the case, commentator R.H. Markham claimed that “When the case became public, some

Negro groups, without investigating the facts, set up charges of persecution and

617 “Negro Wacs,” Washington Post, 12 April 1945 (ProQuest Historical Newspapers, accessed through Ohio State University).

618 Bill Cunningham, “WAC Decision Unity Threat,” Boston Herald, 5 April 1945, “Discrimination in the U.S. Armed Forces, 1918-1955,” NAACP Papers, Reel 19, Part 9, Series B, 1940-1955 (Columbus: Ohio State University) microfilm.

619 “Easy Way Out,” Time magazine, 16 April 1945, 24.

620 Cunningham, “WAC Decision Unity Threat.”

295 discrimination.”621 Speculation over these supposedly subversive connections increased in the mainstream press as support for the Wacs among the public, civil rights organizations, and liberal activists intensified and were proving effective. In the first weeks of coverage, however, they related the facts on hand and quotes from both sides, occasionally printing full texts of press releases from congressional offices and civil rights organizations.

Genuinely convinced that the Army’s treatment of the black Wacs was fair, the mainstream press appeared confident that the bare facts of the case supported this position. Captions tended toward the neutral (“Open court-martial of 4 Devens WACs”) while other showcased the Wacs’ position (“Negroes Given Heavy Work, Whites Spared,

Says WAC”).622 Journalists for mainstream papers seldom resorted to sensational headlines. Again, there was little need. Undoctored titles such as, “Colored WACs

Charged Discrimination,” came pre-packaged as provocatively eye-catching. 623 Without a doubt, much of the reporting on the case indicated a journalistic professionalism committed to presenting both sides of an argument. The mainstream press, however, was as selective as its African American counterparts when choosing and highlighting its facts.

621 R.H. Markham, “Case of Negro Wacs: An Analysis,” Christian Science Monitor, 5 April 1945, Eastern edition (Miami University: Southwest Ohio Regional Depository) microfilm.

622 “Open Court Martial of 4 Devens WACs, ”Worchester (Mass.) Telegram, 20, March 1945; “Negroes Given Heavy Work, Whites Spared, Says WAC,” Boston Globe, 19 March 1945, “Discrimination in the U.S. Armed Forces, 1918-1955,” NAACP Papers, Reel 19, Part 9, Series B, 1940-1955, (Columbus: Ohio State University) microfilm; ”Colonel Voiced Bias,” Washington Star.

623 “Color WACs Charged Discrimination,” Fitchburg (Mass.) Sentinel, 20 March 1945.

296 For current readers, the material white journalists selected and the conclusions they drew from it provide an interesting insight into the casual acceptance of racial inequities in the 1940s. For instance, journalists relied on the contention of 1Lt. Victoria

Lawson, the defendants’ white Wac company commander, that white Wac orderlies performed the same duties as black Wacs. On the other hand, Lawson also admitted that they had worked in this capacity only until black Wacs had arrived and replaced the majority of them. Additionally, Lawson presented drastically inequitable ratios between white and black Wac assignments at Lovell Hospital, reporting that only 12 percent of white Wacs compared to 75 percent of black Wacs worked as orderlies. Clearly a balance was missing, yet journalists failed to find it consequential. In the 1940s, after all, black women commonly took over the duties white women least desired while the wide gaps in black and white duties were consistent with civilian employment patterns. Apparently, all of these facts could be reported in articles that generally supported the Army’s position that black Wacs were treated fairly.

Whether intentionally or not, fact-filled accounts in the mainstream press presented as neutral narratives usually revealed the perspectives of their authors. Time, for instance, emphasizing the fairness of the trial, referred to the Wacs as “disgruntled.”

The Cleveland Herald labeled them “misguided,” despite its concession that “the colored

WACs had every reason to complain and protest at treatment which seemed discriminatory to them – or to others.” According to the Herald, “this treatment, however wrong, did not justify their action in defying military orders from their superiors.”624 A

624 “Misguided WACs” The Cleveland Herald, 23 March 1945, RG 165, Stack 390, Row 31, Comp 08/05.6, Entry 56, Box 172, NA. 297 lengthy summary of the trial in The New York Post provided an accurate overview of the case, yet the subtitles clearly denote the author’s position: “Tried to Smooth It Over” referred to Miles efforts to end the strike while “Listed as ‘Unskilled’” compliments

Stoney’s testimony that black Wacs were assigned where they best fit.625

By downplaying extenuating circumstances, the mainstream press focused on the fairness of the court-martial rather than the underlying racism that sparked the actions of the black Wacs. Consequently, when Time reported that “No one denied that … the trial had been fair,” its followers would have understood the context.626 They, too, had read that Miles had displayed extraordinary patience during the strike, dispatching high- ranking officers to the Wacs who represented their race and sex (though separately), and offering an investigation into grievances.627 Furthermore, the prosecuting attorney had verified that their work was not hard, and Lt. Stoney, their company commander and another black Wac, had confirmed that white Wacs also performed orderly duties.

Without discussion of the discrimination surrounding these measures, such reports seemed very fair. Additionally, on the day after the verdict was announced, the First

Service Command revealed a somewhat similar court-martial seven months before. A white Wac had refused to report to her duty station. The Command court-martialed her for insubordination, found her guilty, and sentenced her to the same sentence as the black

625 Naomi Jolles, “4 Negro Wacs Convicted – NAACP Leader Calls It Fair,” New York Post, 21 March 1945, “Discrimination in the U.S. Armed Forces, 1918-1955,” NAACP Papers, Reel 19, Part 9, Series B, 1940-1955 (Columbus: Ohio State University) microfilm.

626 “Easy Way Out,” Time.

627 Jolles, “4 Negro Wacs Convicted.”

298 Wacs, a year of hard labor, forfeit of pay, and a dishonorable discharge. According to the mainstream media, the evidence showed that the Army had treated the black Wacs fairly and, as news of the court-martialed white Wac verified, it handled Wacs’ disciplinary cases the same, too.

The First Service Command obviously intended to compare the two courts- martial, yet, unbeknownst to the public, they were quite different. The ousted Wac was

Pvt. Carolyn G. Kaniuk. She had been stationed in Boston and assigned to the motor pool as a driver. On June 5, 1944, Kaniuk refused to go to work. Confined to quarters, she

“broke arrest,” leaving the barracks for much of the day. As punishment, she was assigned a week of extra duty. She refused to do it. On June 8, “she agreed to return to duty,” only to again miss her detail. After failing to show at reveille the next day, three of her superiors checked her room and found her in bed. After ensuring that Kaniuk understood the possible consequences of persisting in her actions, her company commander ordered her, on three separate occasions that morning, to return to duty.

Kaniuk refused. This earned her a trip to Ft. Devens for a psychiatric evaluation. The doctors determined that Kaniuk was sane, and this cleared the way for her court-martial.

Three days after her return to Boston, however, she jumped from the window of her quarters and onto a roof two-stories below and escaped. Twenty days later, she walked into a New York City police station to report that she had hit a man over the head with a bottle. The police alerted the military authorities who apprehended the AWOL (Absent without Leave) Wac shortly afterwards, they discovered that she was sharing a hotel

299 room with the man she had struck. He was Francis Shea, a civilian from Boston, and he and Kaniuk had registered together as Mr. and Mrs. Shea.628

When later questioned about her actions, Kaniuk explained that she did not dislike her duties as a driver, but was tired of her life in the Army and wanted out.629 Correctly identifying how to force the Army’s hand, she had gone AWOL. On August 16, Kaniuk faced a court-martial that would soon give her what she had sought, a discharge. It was, however, a dishonorable discharge, and it came with a year of hard labor.

The few references to this verdict in conjunction with the Ft. Devens court-martial mentioned only the charge of insubordination (though Kaniuk was also tried for being

AWOL), the conviction, and the sentence. No other details were given, and for an understandable reason. Unless intimately tied to the situation, the public, black and white, would not have known about Kaniuk’s court-martial. Like most military tribunals, it had been closed to the public. There were, however, at least two people at Ft. Devens during the black Wac trial who were well aware of its finer points: McCarthy and Miles. The former had prosecuted the Kaniuk case, and the latter, or his adjutant general, had reviewed it, as was standard practice, and then approved the verdict. In any case, as the

Commanding General of the First Service Command, Miles had access to the case and certainly would have been consulted about publicizing it to counter accusations of racism

628 Court-martial records of Kaniuk, Carolyn G, Pvt., Ft. Devens, MA, 25 August 1944, War Department, Hqtrs. Office of the Staff Judge Advocate.

629 Ibid.

300 in the black Wac verdict. The two cases, however, were very different, and he, and

McCarthy, would have known that.

Both the black and mainstream press were spectacularly successful in calling attention to the court-martial and encouraging ordinarily citizens to respond. Due to their proximity, newspapers in and around Ft. Devens and Boston produced the most expansive coverage. The case’s significance to African Americans ensured that the largest black publications with bureaus in New York, Washington, D.C., and Chicago gave it front page treatment. Other newspapers, from North Carolina to California and from Michigan to Louisiana, also followed the events of the case. Due to the embedded issues of race and women in the military, these newspapers curried the interest of an extraordinarily diverse collection of citizens in the strike. Whites and blacks and men and women voiced their opinions to their local newspapers, state representatives, and trusted organizations. Many of these ordinary Americans – housewives, small business owners, and union laborers – contacted the War Department and the White House to insist that the government had a responsibility to promptly and justly resolve the case. The surviving correspondence as preserved in newspapers, organizations’ files, and government archives suggest that the vast majority of respondents supported the Wacs. It also reveals the hefty issues of the war years with which concerned citizens were wrestling as they considered the case. This included the Army’s segregation policy, unquestioning obedience to military orders, and the war for democracy.630

630 The extreme racial segmentation of American society during the 1940s provides clues to the race of the civilian authors in several ways. Quite often, they simply state the race to which they identify. The pronouns used also indicate the racial identity. Occasionally, an educated guess is required. For example, it is highly unlikely that the editor of a white newspaper, the owner of an 301 Predictably, African Americans, with ready access to the black and mainstream press, recognized all of these issues, yet so did many white readers whose main, if not only, source of news was the mainstream press. In their diligence to recount the facts, mainstream journalists had, in fact, compiled an impressive record of the disparities in treatment and assignments that lay at the heart of Green’s, Murphy’s, Young’s, and

Morrison’s grievances. If the reporters didn’t see it, a fair number of their readers did.

Despite the pro-Army slant on the case they encountered, therefore, many whites supported the black Wacs. In a letter to the Evening Gazette in Worchester, a town just outside of Boston, a white man noted his “disgust” with the verdict arguing that the Wacs had every right to expect equal treatment. “After all, is this not a democracy?” he asked.

“Are not our boys fighting and dying to ensure that individuals, all over the world, whatever their race or color, be assured of equality in the sight of Man?631 Others bristled upon learning of Crandall’s alleged “dirty work” remark. In a letter to Secretary of War

Henry L. Stimson, a white man took issue with the notion that the only question in the case was the defendants’ refusal to obey an order. “That statement is false,” he insisted,

“if Crandall said Negro WACs were supposed to do ‘the dirty work.’”632

engineering firm, or an obviously well-to-do Park Avenue resident would be African American. Even in these cases, the manner in which the authors expressed their views and define their perspectives provide useful clues. I have noted the rare instances when the race is doubt.

631 Letter to the editor, “Protest WAC Verdict,” Worchester (Mass.) Evening Gazette, 24 March 1945, 4.

632 Letter, Arthur L. Crookham, City Editor of The Journal, to Secretary of War Stimson, Portland, Oregon, 21 March 1945, RG 407, Stack 270, Row 41, Comp 35, Entry 363, File 291.2, Box 1063, NA.

302 Regardless of race, at least among those who expressed their views in public forums or to government officials, private citizens appeared less likely to agree that the trial had been as above board as Army officials and mainstream reporters claimed. A black woman, who described herself as a “very patriotic citizen,” told the president, “I can’t see where there was any fair trial at all. I’m sure I voice the sentiments of 13 million Negroes.”633 Not surprisingly, Crandall’s sudden departure for a thirty-day leave before the trial prompted questions. “That leaves a funny feeling,” wrote a white man from Cleveland, Ohio. “One suspects that Col. Crandall was deliberately away, and wonders if the trial was entirely fair.”634 Because doubts over the fairness of the verdict emerged from both sides of the racial divide, the race of the authors is not always evident.

This includes the man who inferred that the diversity of the court members was merely window dressing on the Army’s part rather than an honest attempt to convene an impartial jury for the black defendants. “The fact that there were two male Negro officers on the court-martial board does not change the situation,” he insisted.635 Another came from a New Jersey woman who inquired, “Much as I realize the need for military discipline, should not strict military law have yielded to justice in this case?”636

633 Ibid. Letter, Mrs. Mattie W. Lyons, Toledo, Ohio to Roosevelt, 21 March 1945.

634 Ibid. Letter, Carlton S. Cobert to Roosevelt, Cleveland, Ohio 21 March 1945.

635 Ibid. Letter, from Nathan Klein to the War Department, New York City, 21 March 1945.

636 Ibid.

303 A large volume of letters poured in after the trial.637The controversial issues surrounding the case brought attention to it, but it was the guilty verdict, the severity of the sentence, and the details of the testimony that sparked the unexpected deluge.

Baltimore’s NAACP affiliate reported that “Our office has been flooded with letters and telegrams urging that something be done about this injustice.”638 The War Department received so much mail about the case that on March 27, Stimson ordered his staff to prepare a form letter to more efficiently respond to inquiries.639

As did the court-martial arguments and the mainstream and black press commentaries, the letters from ordinary citizens typically pivoted on issues of race. A man from Rhode Island asked President Franklin Delano Roosevelt to intervene, noting that “I’m not a colored person, but am very sympathetic with the colored people’s aspirations.”640In a letter to the War Department, a black minister from Ohio applauded the convicted Wacs. “These girls have set a fine example for other Negroes in the service to follow.”641 Racial discourse was a familiar context.

637 The timing was partly due to the time it took the initial news of the strike to circulate. Whereas mainstream dailies may have had two or three editions (morning, noon, and evening) black newspapers typically published once a week or less.

638 Letter, Lillie M. Jackson, President of the Baltimore NAACP, to Roosevelt, RG 407, Stack 270, Row 41, Comp 35/2-3, Box 1063, Entry 363, File: 291.2, NA.

639 Ibid. Lt Col. G.B. Walker, Assistant Executive, Sec. of War to Assistant Chief to Staff, G-1, “Subject: Court-martial of Four Negro Wacs at Fort Devens, Mass.”

640 Ibid. Letter, Ernest G. Adams to Roosevelt, Rhode Island, 21 March 1945.

641 Letter to editor, I. F. Coles, “What People Think,” Pittsburgh Courier, 21 April 1945 national edition, (Columbus: Ohio State University Library) microfilm. Others came from Minnie H. Arnold, Cleveland Heights, Oh (race unknown) and Reverend, W.W. Stephenson, Sr. of Washington, D.C. (African American), to the War Department. File: 291.2 (Race), 407, 270, 41, 35/2-3/Box 1063, Entry 363, NA. 304 Though neither the black nor the mainstream journalists emphasized the gender issues of the Ft. Devens court-martial, they were central to the public’s interest in the case. The seemingly helpless “girls” at Ft. Devens captured sympathy among many white

Americans that typically eluded black men on trial for similar charges. “I wonder what is being done, if anything, to come to the aid of the three [sic] young Negressess,” wrote one apparently wealthy Park Avenue woman. It was the hard labor and prison aspect of the sentence that most bothered a white Californian woman who asked the president,

“Can’t there be a way out of carrying out that sentence?” Fully supportive of the four

Wacs, she nevertheless suggested that the dishonorable discharge alone would be more suitable as it would spare them from spending time in prison.642 African Americans also specifically referred to the women’s femininity. A black legionnaire group from

Cleveland, Ohio petitioned the government to allow special consideration to the four

Wacs because “We do not wish to believe that the army has lowered itself to the handling or dealing with women, regardless of race, the same way that we deal with or handle men.”643 In a likely nationally coordinated drive by black legionnaires, a Washington,

D.C. chapter sent a similar wrote, “Whereas, women being more frail, impulsive and sensitive than men, with extreme difficulty overcame these known facts when enlisting

… succumbed to an emotional, natural and irrepressible outburst.”644 Despite black

642 Letter, Mrs. Emily Wymer to Franklin D. Roosevelt, San Jose, CA, 21 March 1945 (RG 407, Stack 270, Row 41, Comp 35, Entry 363, File 291.2, Box 1063, NA.

643 Ibid. Letter, American Legion Post #94 to the Adjutant General, Cleveland, Ohio, 23 March 1945.

644 Ibid. Letter, American Legion Post #16 to the Judge Advocate, Boston, 23 March 1945.

305 servicemen’s harsher sentences, oftentimes decades of incarceration, white Americans seemed less willing to accept the military’s such verdicts and sentences when the defendants were female.645

Many Americans drew parallels between the nation’s democratic reasons for fighting the war and the Army’s discriminatory treatment of the Ft. Devens black Wacs.

In a letter to Secretary of War Henry Stimson, the man from Oregon wrote, “I don’t blame the Wacs for refusing to obey orders. Their disobedience then was all that they could do to protest an unfair un-American, pro-Hitler statement.”646A white woman asked President Roosevelt, “Are we going to be as cold and inhuman in our practices as

Hitler?”647 A black male preacher compared American racism to the “Nazi race doctrine which we fight.”648 The women members of a Boston area book club (race unknown) likened the attitude of Crandall and Miles to fascists and Nazis.649

645 For instance, as the Ft. Devens strike court-martial played out in the papers, the Army’s recent sentencing of seventy-three servicemen “from eight to thirty years” for refusing to obey orders and report to their duty station did not receive the same volume of attention in white papers. “73 Convicted: Hawaii Troops Sentenced to Long Prison Terms,” Chicago Defender, 10 February 1945.

646 Letter, Arthur L. Crookham, City Editor of The Journal to Secretary of War Stimson, Portland, Oregon, 21 March 1945, RG 407, Stack 270, Row 41, Comp 35, Entry 363, File 291.2, Box 1063, NA.

647 Weymer to Roosevelt, 21 March 1945.

648 Sermon, Reverend Kenneth Hughes, “Our Debt to the Four Striking Wacs,” St. Bartholomew’s Church, Cambridge, Mass., April 3, 1945 (Easter Sunday), “Discrimination in the U.S. Armed Forces, 1918-1955,” NAACP Papers (Columbus: Ohio State University) microfilm.

649 Letter, Book Lovers’ Club to Judge Advocate General, Auburndale, MA, 26 March 1945, “General Court-martial case of U.S. v. Young, et al.,” Ft. Devens, MA. Department of the Army, U.S. Army Judiciary.

306 Once again, Crandall became a convenient target, this time for the concerned citizens who wrote letters on behalf of the convicted Wacs. “The disgusting language of the commanding officer is a disgrace to the U.S. Army,” wrote a Christian-Science

Monitor reader.650 A union man from Rochester, New York advised Roosevelt that if the charges against Crandall proved true, then “in the name of 10,000,000 Negro Americans to which race I am proud to belong,” he should dismiss the colonel along with other officers.

The black press coverage was essential to publicizing the Ft. Devens incident and encouraging civilians to take action on the case, but it was not the only platform African

Americans could turn to during the war years to gain attention to their plight. In fact, the widespread and passionate civilian reaction to it showcases the effective wartime convergence of the black press with civil rights organizations and prominent persons promoting civil rights. Collectively, this loose trifecta successfully mobilized a nation, black and white, to support four black women. Strangers sent money in order to aid this appeal. Supporters in Boston attended the service of a prominent local minister whose powerful sermon celebrated the courage shown by Morrison, Green, Murphy, and Young.

Casting them “as strong defenders willing to stand up for their rights and the rights of others,” Reverend Kenneth Hughes compared them to an array of biblical heroes, including Queen Esther (and the male prophet Job).651 A few others composed poems in

650 Benjamin T. Johnson in Markham, “Case of Negro Wacs.”

651 Rev. Kenneth Hughes sent Wilkins his sermon entitled, “Our Debt to the Four Striking Wacs,” along with $140 raised among his St. Bartholomew’s Rectory congregants; letter, Rev. Kenneth Hughes to Roy Wilkins, Cambridge, Mass, 3 April 1945. “Discrimination in the U.S. Armed Forces, 1918-1955,” NAACP Papers. (Columbus: Ohio State University) microfilm.

307 their honor. One lady wanted “to send them each something." More often, ordinary citizens wrote letters and signed petitions to encourage a military review of the verdict. In general, African Americans were taking advantage of the network of civil rights activism at their disposal to increase the volume of their individual voices while white Americans were tapping into it as well. With the press doing its part publicizing the case, organizations and prominent persons gained plenty of citizen encouragement to take up the cause. No one group, however, was better positioned to do so than the NAACP.

Ever since the national NAACP office received word of Pvt. Harriet Warfield’s letter to her aunt in which she described the treatment of black Wacs at Ft. Devens, the venerable organization had taken the lead in the case. As a grassroots operation, however, it relied on its local affiliates for much of its legwork and financial support. The

Philadelphia branch’s capable prioritizing of the case brought it to the immediate attention of the national organization. The Boston branch subsequently provided the defendants with a civilian defense lawyer in the person of Julian Rainey. Other local affiliates, with no direct link to the case, quickly mounted campaigns on behalf of the women. The Durham branch soon raised $100 to assist in the appeal. The Tuckahoe, New

York and Baltimore, Maryland branches also spread the news among their membership and wrote to government officials requesting a review of the case.652 With local members

652 Letter acknowledging donation, Thurgood Marshall to L.E. Austin, President of Durham NAACP Branch (and editor of The Carolina Times) “Discrimination in the U.S. Armed Forces, 1918-1955,” NAACP Papers, Reel 19, Part 9, Series B, 1940-1955 (Columbus: Ohio State University) microfilm; letter, Tuckahoe NAACP Branch to Stimson, 2 April 1945, RG 407, Stack 270, Row 41, Comp 35, Entry 363, File 291.2, Box 1063, NA.

308 springing into action to publicize, petition, and fund-raise, the national office could focus on its high level connections.

The NAACP did not lack for partners or general support in the high profile Wac case. Other organizations, national and local, were also eager to take up the cause. Some did so by offering to directly assist the NAACP. Members of the United People Action

Committee (UPAC) in Philadelphia assured its national office that “We are counting on your organization to take its place in the front of the battle for right, as it has never failed to do before now.”653 By this time, however, UPAC had already been in contact with the

NAACP office in Boston and with the Secretary of War Stimson, President Roosevelt, the Wacs’ defense attorney during the court-martial, Julian Rainey, and even the Wacs’ commanding officer, presumably Lt. Stoney.654 Also in Boston, local members of the national Congress for Equal Opportunities (CORE) announced their support of the Wacs as did those of the Robert Gould Shaw House. The latter expressed their certainty that the women “did not strike for idle reason.”655 The American Civil Liberties Union offered to assist the NAACP in the appeal.656 The American Legion called on the Army to sharply

653 Letter, Eugene E. Burns, United Peoples Action Committee, to Walter White, Secretary of the NAACP, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, 25 March 1945, RG 407, Stack 270, Row 41, Comp 35, Entry 363, File 291.2, Box 1063, NA.

654 Ibid. The letter does not mention which of the women’s commanding officers the committee contacted. It could have been Lt. Stoney, Lt. Lawson, or possibly, though unlikely, Major Elizabeth Stearns, the Wac director of the First Service Command.

655 “Devens WAC Strike Ends; Six Face Court-Martial, The Afro-American [Md.], 18 August 1945, 1-2, (ProQuest Historical Newspapers, accessed through Ohio State University).

656 Letter, Lucile Milner to Thurgood Marshall, 23 March 1945, “Discrimination in the U.S. Armed Forces, 1918-1955,” NAACP Papers, Reel 19, Part 9, Series B, 1940-1955 (Columbus: Ohio State University) microfilm.

309 reduce the sentence.657 The Workers’ Defense League urged the president to intervene.658

In a letter to the president reminding him of his inspirational theme that “we were fighting for four freedoms for the world,” the membership of the Chicago’s John Brown

Organization of America implored, “Will you inform us, show us, by giving these four

Colored women their Freedom?”659 More brazenly, the Negro Youth of Greater Boston informed Stimson that “the whole policy of Jim Crow race discrimination and segregation make a sham and mockery in so far as Negroes are concerned.”660

African American women, who recognized the larger implications of the case for them personally, came out in force on behalf of the convicted four. In her role as

President of the National Council of Negro Women, Bethune alerted Stimson to the importance of the case, insisting that the “issues involved are so serious and the implications so broad that we beseech you to make your own personal investigation before confirming or permitting the sentence of the court-martial to be carried into effect.”661 Rebecca Stiles Taylor, another prominent leader of black women’s

657 “AL Post Urges WAC Sentences Be Cut Sharply,” Fitchburg (Mass.) Sentinel, 24 March 1945.

658 Morris Milgram, Workers Defense League, to Franklin D. Roosevelt, NY, 23 March 1945, File: 291.2 (Race), 407, 270, 41, 35/2-3/Box 1063, Entry 363, NA; Eugene Zack, “Notables Demand Probe in Conviction of Wacs,” Chicago Defender, 31 March 1945, national edition, 1 (ProQuest Historical Newspapers, accessed through Ohio State University).

659 Letter, Chicago’s John Brown Organization to Roosevelt, 25 March 1945, RG 407, Stack 270, Row 41, Comp 35, Entry 363, File 291.2, Box 1063, NA.

660 Ibid. Telex, Negro Youth of Greater Boston to Stimson, 25 March 1945. 661 Zack attributed comment to Bethune in her role as the National Advisory committee of the WAC Eugene Zack, “Notables Demand Probe in Conviction of Wacs,” Chicago Defender, 31 March 1945, national edition, 1 (ProQuest Historical Newspapers, accessed through Ohio State University).

310 organizations, echoed Bethune’s sentiment in her Chicago Defender column. “The cause of our four WACs belongs to the entire group [of black women],” she told readers. Stiles

Taylor compared them to the “White women [who] have gone to jail for what they thought was right and became heroines of womanhood.” In the same manner, she predicted their “names also will be handed down as martyrs for the cause of justice to black women.”662 Jane E. Hunter, President of the Ohio State Federation of Colored

Women, asked Stimson to investigate the case and ensure justice for the convicted

Wacs.663 From New York to California, women’s organizations closely followed the case in which its members felt they had a particular stake.664 Club women also seemed to have been instrumental in involving mixed-gendered organizations to which they belonged,

662 Stiles Taylor does not specify the white women to whom she refers nor the causes for which they served jail time. She had a number of choices. Just decades before, the state imprisoned hundreds for taking part in radical measures to secure suffrage. Others braved prison to fight for unions and protest against wars. African American women, however, did not need lessons from white women on the importance of individual sacrifice for the common good. They had a long, courageous history of challenging laws to secure even the most basic of rights. Since the days of slavery (a prison into which they were born), laying claim to their rights typically involved tangling with civil authorities. Whites could, by their own authority or through government officials, press black women into domestic service, prevent them from pursuing other options, and impede their migration north. African American women’ attempts to stand up to employers and landowners over labor and land disputes, to prosecute rapists, and to vote inevitably involved risks of prison sentences or worse. So common were these events and so marginalized were black women in the 1940s, that such heroics were hardly newsworthy, and they certainly were not as interesting as well-dressed, middle class white women who voluntarily exchanged the respectability into which they were born for prison smocks. Stiles Taylor’s comment is sadly, if not jarringly, poignant in that it speaks to her times, and perhaps our own as well. Even as an African American woman and leader of others black women, she seemed more aware of the history of white than black women. Perhaps her less elite readers, through their experiences, found her remarks equally peculiar. Stiles Taylor, “Federated Clubs: Four Negro Wacs Call for Justice.”

663 Zack, “Notables Demand Probe in Conviction of Wacs.”

664 Letter, California State Association of Colored Women to Stimson, 9 April 1945, RG 407, Stack 270, Row 41, Comp 35/2-3, Box 1063, Entry 363, File: 291.2, NA.

311 beginning with Carolyn Moore, the Executive Secretary of the Philadelphia Branch of the

NAACP. She was the one who read Harriet Warfield’s letter about the problems brewing at Ft. Devens and, sensing the urgency and significance of the situation, immediately notified the national office. While the Army’s treatment of the black women angered

African American men who also suffered racism, it personally resonated for black women. They knew only too well of the indignities that their combined race and sex wrought for the black women at Ft. Devens.

Four congressmen also took personal interest in the case. One was William T.

Granahan of Pennsylvania. Warfield had written him, as her state representative, upon the recommendation of a member of the NAACP, most likely Carolyn Moore. The others represented districts in New York City, where all three hailed from the city’s minority populations: Adam Clayton Powell was African American; Vito Marcantonio was an

Italian Catholic; and Emanuel Celler was Jewish. According to the rigid racial stratification system of the era in which Anglo whites and African Americans occupied the polar ends of the divide, Marcantonio and Celler (and their main body of constituents) fell somewhere in-between this racial hierarchy. Slotted under the Anglo white stratum,

Americans of Southern and Eastern European origin, and Jews from any region of the world, were marked as lesser, different, and, therefore, not quite white.665 As an African

American, Powell’s position remained at the bottom of the social structure despite his status. As congressmen, however, these men were fully invested with federally-mandated

665 David R. Roediger, Working Toward Whiteness: How America’s Immigrants Became White; The Strange Journey from Ellis Island to the Suburbs (New York: Basic Books, 2005).

312 authorities that non-elected officials did not have. All four representatives made use of these privileges in the case of the black Wacs at Ft. Devens.

In a joint statement sent the day after the court-martial ended, Powell and

Marcantonio called upon Stimson to supply them with the transcript from the court- martial. They also expressed bewilderment over the treatment of the Wacs. “It is unbelievable,” they announced, “that in times like these that the colonel in charge of the

Lovell General Hospital refused to let Negro Wacs assist in nursing back to health our soldiers by forbidding them to take temperatures and ordering them to do ‘all the dirty work.’”666 Emanuel Celler let it be known that he expected nothing less than an honorable discharge for the women, without which he would appeal the case to the president.667 Corresponding directly with Miles “whose responsibility it will be to review the court-martial and sentence,” Celler candidly voiced his view that Crandall’s statements were “unseemly” and the sentence the Wacs received “extremely severe.”668 It was Granahan who had, just three days after the strike, requested information from the

First Service Command on the attempted suicides.669

666 Press Release, “Marcantonio and Powell demand Investigation of Conviction of four Negro Wacs,” 21 March 1945, NAACP Papers, Part 9, Series B, Reel 8, 1940-1955 (Columbus: Ohio State University) microfilm; J.S. Qualey, “War Dept. Probe Asked of Trial of 4 Negro Wacs,” P.M., 23 March 1945 (Library of Congress – Newspaper and Current Periodical Room) microfilm.

667 Qualey, “War Dept. Probe Asked of Trial of 4 Negro Wacs.”

668 Zack, “Notables Demand Probe in Conviction of Wacs”; Letter, Rep. Emanuel Celler to Major General Sherman Miles, 22 March 1945, RG 407, Stack 270, Row 41, Comp 35, Entry 363, File 291.2, Box 1063, NA.

669 Letter, William T. Granahan to Stimson, 13 March 1945, included in the War Department’s Investigation of WAC Detachment, Lovell General and Convalescent Hospital,” 4 May 1945.

313 Prominent civilians, from the First Lady to local activists, also took an interest in the case. Bethune was particularly active in apprising Eleanor Roosevelt and Colonel

Oveta Culp Hobby, the WAC Commander, of the situation. According to The Pittsburgh

Courier, both were “very much perturbed’ over the matter.670 At the national NAACP office, the Secretary and Assistant Secretary, Walter White and Roy Wilkins, discussed the case with those at the highest levels of the government. Just five days after the strike, they had written to Stimson citing Crandall’s “unfitness” for command of black personnel and requesting his removal.671 The renowned local attorney Rainey, who represented the women in their first court-martial, returned to the case. In an apparent bid to step back into court, he announced that he had “new material and sensational evidence.”672 His reappearance would not be necessary. On March 28, the NAACP announced that

Thurgood Marshall, its top attorney, would handle the appeal.673 In April, Charles H.

Houston, Marshall’s mentor, the former special counsel to the NAACP, and Dean of

Howard University’s Law School, would volunteer his eminent legal skills in his own

670 “Stimson Studies Record of Army Trial,” Pittsburgh Courier, 7 April 1945, national edition (Columbus: Ohio State University) microfilm.

671 Press Release, “NAACP Will Aid in Appeal,” New York, 29 March 1945, “Discrimination in the U.S. Armed Forces, 1918-1955,” NAACP Papers, Reel 19, Part 9, Series B, 1940-1955 (Columbus: Ohio State University) microfilm.

672 Leotha Hackshaw, “New Evidence in WAC Case.” According to an informant for Army Intelligence, Rainey did not have new evidence, and was claiming he did in order to “save face” after his seemingly bungled defense of the Wacs. Isadore Zack, “Refusal of Duty By Certain Members of WAC Detachment (Colored), Lovell General Hospital, 23 March 1945, U.S. Army Counterintelligence Corps (CIC) Materials, 1942-1997, MC 160, IV: Investigative Reports, Box 3, f.23.

673 Press Release, “NAACP Will Aid in Appeal.

314 investigation of the case.674 In Boston, activists unknown nationally yet with some local stature were conducting on-site investigations at Ft. Devens and its environs. Among them were Mr. Pope with connections to the USO; Jane Parker, who worked with the Red

Cross; and Richard Walker, an employee of War Manpower Commission and whose speaking engagements occasionally took him to the base.675

This collaborative mix of well-placed civil rights activists and organizations, national and local, unleashed a wellspring of popular support for the Wacs as its separate components adopted various, often overlapping, tasks. Some appealed for funds and encouraged petitions and letters to aid the upcoming appeal of the case. Others directly contacted government officials and opened doors for high level negotiations. Those in

Boston conducted on-site investigations, monitored events on the ground, and provided updates. Collectively, these prominent persons and organizations informed both black and whites of the pertinent aspects of the case to the civil rights movement. As each effort fueled another, the momentum to support the Ft. Devens Wacs increased. At the end of March, The Chicago Defender acknowledged this grand synergized spirit in an article entitled, “Notables Demand Probe in Conviction of Wacs.” The author provided

674 Houston was also the mentor of Thurgood Marshall at Howard University and at the NAACP where they worked together. He produced a thorough three-page report on the Ft. Devens situation for Bethune. Report from Charles Houston to Mary McLeod Bethune, 26 April 1945.

675 Memorandum, Robert L. Carter to Mr. Wilkins, “Wac Strike in Massachusetts,” 15 March 1945. “Discrimination in the U.S. Armed Forces, 1918-1955,” NAACP Papers, Reel 19, Part 9, Series B, 1940-1955 (Columbus: Ohio State University) microfilm.

315 an extensive list of the prominent individuals and organizations who were contributing to the campaign, and yet managed to name just a fraction of those involved.676

The widespread, mostly positive civilian response to the Ft. Devens strike illustrates the ideal prototype of the civil rights campaign of the 1940s as rooted in the solidarity of its three main anchors. Its pivotal local communities nurtured African

American pride and local initiatives and provided the grassroots support for the movement. Its civil rights national network, as a loose confederation of the black press, civil rights organizations, and prominent activists, immediately secured defense council for the Wacs, ensured publicity for their strike and court-martial, encouraged joint actions among various local and national initiatives, and provided leaders to negotiate with high level state officials. The remaining anchor, Morrison, Green, Young, and Murphy, could not have fathomed the headlines their action would spur in the press, yet it was their act of resistance – aided by their status as women in the military – that ignited the vigorous, coast-to-coast, collaboration of the movements’ varied components. At Ft. Devens, this civil rights triad – local communities, the national network, and individual actions – combined to work as one.

The power of the civil rights movement during the 1940s was its ability to inspire resistance against discrimination and then to rally other African Americans in support of the action and its agents. It did so by presenting itself as uniformly dedicated to the

676 Eugene Zack, “Notables Demand Probe in Conviction of Wacs,” Chicago Defender, 31 March 1945, national edition, 1 (ProQuest Historical Newspapers, accessed through Ohio State University).

316 values of democracy and justice. In reality, the movement was rarely as unified as divisions over the popular cause of the Wac strike demonstrate.

In fact, as the public discourse over the incident mounted, it revealed fissures within each side of the racial divide -- though rifts among white Americans were significantly deeper, and more obvious, than those among African Americans. As noted, the majority of the mainstream press favored the Army’s version of the case; nevertheless, many of its readers sensed that the Wacs had valid reasons for protesting their duties and supported them instead.677 Liberal newspapers like PM and the Daily

Worker, mainly white-financed and owned, critiqued the mainstream view as well. They reported the extenuating circumstances of race in the Wac incident and openly condemned the segregation in the military they believed led to the strike. Most

Americans viewed these publications as radical propaganda, thereby lessening their subscriptions bases and limiting their overall influence. Liberal presses, however, had their loyal followings, and they continued to express their differences with the status quo.

In comparison with African Americans, white Americans were far more divided over the case.

In contrast, African Americans were overwhelmingly supportive of the black

Wacs, yet the intensity of the civilian response over the strike reveals that fault lines also divided this seemingly sturdy block of solidarity. At the center of the most obvious intra- racial fissure in the Wac case was Julian Steele, a Harvard graduate, the president of the

677 Letter, Allin Wright Hewitt to Truman K. Gibson, Jr., Civilian Assistant to the Secretary of War, New Jersey, 24 March 1945, RG 165, Stack 390, Row 31, Comp 6-8, Shelf 7-3, Entry 55, Box 189, NA.

317 Boston’s NAACP affiliate, and Miles’ go-to man for race issues within the First Service

Command. Given his various roles, Steele had unique prominence in the case from its very beginning. Consequently, when his statement reflected, at best, halting support for the women, they were well-reported, causing an uproar among other African Americans.

Richard Walker, an African American Boston-based activist, also took an early role in the case, and his reports and letters to civil rights officials provide background to the

Steele controversy.

Walker happened to be at Ft. Devens five days after the strike on unrelated business. Having heard rumors of a Wac strike at the post, he decided to investigate it to learn of its underlying circumstances. Walker claimed that his initial purpose was to assist the NAACP should it accept the case. He soon learned that Steele’s Boston’s affiliate was already working on it and that Julian Rainey, its legal affairs officer, would act as the Wacs’ defense counsel. According to Walker, he had by then collected evidence of rampant discrimination at Lovell Hospital, so he called Steele, certain that his findings would aid the defense. To his astonishment, Steele was not interested. Race was not a factor in the case, he told Walker, because none of the black Wacs were qualified technicians. In addition, he insisted that Miles had been extremely fair and tolerant with the women despite their refusal to work. Steele added that Miles had on occasion given him free rein to survey black soldiers at Ft. Devens, and he had taken him up on the offer.

Afterwards, he found no “evidence of discrimination or of anyone having given him any

318 factual information on which he could report to the General.” The case was about insubordination, he told Walker, not race.678

Obviously, the local NAACP president had not met with the black Wacs at Ft.

Devens as he was unaware of their grievances. Just three days before the trial, he did not know that three of them were certified medical technicians. Steele may not have been familiar with the Wacs, but he was on friendly terms with Miles and evidently intended to maintain that relationship. On the day he spoke to Walker, the press confirmed as much when reporting his statements. According to Steele, he “deplore[d]” the actions of the

“misguided” Wacs and commended the fairness and tolerance Miles had shown them.

Addressing the obvious question about why, given these views, his branch had decided to defend the Wacs, Steele conceded that “there are wide implications” that require the

NAACP’s involvement in their defense.679 He did not elaborate on what those implications might be. After the trial, which he attended, Steele continued his stalwart praise of Miles. On March 21, a New York Post’s summary of the case captured his response to the verdict. In large, bold type-face, its title began, “4 Negro Wacs

Convicted,” and, in the same bold type, continued, “NAACP Leader Calls it Fair.” 680

678 In his capacity as a War Manpower Commission agent, Walker visited Ft. Devens on 15 March to give a speech regarding employment for Negro veterans. After lunch, a white counselor informed him of the upcoming court-martial of black Wacs. Walker had read about a strike on 10 March (the afternoon edition), but said he had not heard about it since. The next day, he began his own investigation of the situation at Ft. Devens. Report, Walker to Bethune, 26 April 1945 “Discrimination in the U.S. Armed Forces, 1918-1955,” NAACP Papers, Reel 19, Part 9, Series B, 1940-1955 (Columbus: Ohio State University) microfilm.

679 Curtis, “4 Wacs Face Death Penalty.

680 Naomi Jolles, “4 Negro Wacs Convicted – NAACP Leader Calls It Fair,” New York Post, 21 March 1945, “Discrimination in the U.S. Armed Forces, 1918-1955,” NAACP Papers, Reel 19, Part 9, Series B, 1940-1955 (Columbus: Ohio State University) microfilm; also see “Negro Wacs 319 African Americans were furious with Steele’s comments, perhaps Walker most of all since he had personally apprised the local NAACP leader of the serious situation at Ft.

Devens. In a letter to Bethune, Walker confided that he believed that Steele’s pre-trial statement had “prejudice[d] members of the Court.”681 In a summary of his investigation meant for a larger audience, he expressed the same point more diplomatically: “I am firmly of the opinion that a less severe penalty should have been and could have been imposed if all members of the Court were as ‘fair and tolerant’ as Mr. Steele believes

General Miles to be.”682

Another civil rights leader who criticized the Wacs for their strike was the usually fiery Percival L. Prattis, editor of The Pittsburgh Courier. In a commentary he published in his paper, Prattis agreed that the women had legitimate complaints, yet insisted that

“They did not have the right to refuse a direct order.”683 (He similarly faulted the Seabees of the Hawaii Mutiny, another court-martial case in the news that March, describing the men as having been “artfully” tricked into a mutiny.) Acknowledging that change was slow, the same editor who had boldly headlined the discontent of sailors in 1940 and launched the explosive Double V campaign two-years later was in 1945 urging patience

Under Discipline, Offered Counsel for Defense,” R.H. Markham, “Case of Negro Wacs: An Analysis,” Christian Scientist Monitor, 5 April 1945 “Discrimination in the U.S. Armed Forces, 1918-1955,” NAACP Papers, Reel 19, Part 9, Series B, 1940-1955 (Columbus: Ohio State University) microfilm; Curtis, “4 Wacs Face Death Penalty.”

681 Cover letter of “Statement of Richard H. Walker,” to Bethune.

682 Report, Walker to Bethune.

683P. L. Prattis, “The Horizon,” The Pittsburgh Courier, 31 March 1945, national edition (Columbus: Ohio State University Library) microfilm.

320 among African Americans.684 Referring to the Army’s recent use of black troops in combat Europe, Prattis said that this offered proof that “there’s a chance for some good if we contend with our best brains.”685 His criticisms of the strike action differed from

Steele’s, yet he also asserted that the Wacs should not have disobeyed their officers.

In fact, other African Americans were also grappling with the insubordination aspect of the case, though no one as well qualified to address the issue than Charles

Houston. As the Dean of Howard University’s Law School, Houston had the legal background to investigate the matter, and as an Army veteran, he had personal knowledge of discrimination in the military. Like Rainey, Houston had joined the military during World War I, confident that he could prove African Americans’ equality through the Army’s newly created officer training program for black men. Instead, he experienced relentless racism, largely due to segregation and its detrimental effects on black personnel. As he considered the Wac strike, he drew comparisons between it and another collective act of insubordination, the Houston Mutiny of 1917.686 An Army investigation of the incident discovered that unrelenting civilian brutality towards the black soldiers had provoked the men to take action. In his remarks on the Wac strike,

Houston firmly reasserted that he did not condone insubordination in the military. He conceded, however, that “the condition they faced of administration hostility and lack of

684 Charles A. Simmons, The African American Press: A History of News Coverage during National Crises, with Special Reference to Four Black Newspapers, 1827-1965 (Jefferson, NC: McFarland &, 1998), 7.

685 Prattis, “The Horizon.”

686 See Chapter 1 for a summary of the Houston Mutiny of 1917.

321 protection at Lovell General Hospital were such that the Army could hardly punish a soldier for refusing to obey an order which in itself was based upon an illegal discrimination and unjust official attitude.”687 Houston’s position, incidentally, was the one that The Pittsburgh Courier generally promoted. Though Prattis’ ran the paper, his commentary on the case was an anomaly.

Steele’s and Prattis’ public statements on the Wac strike and their divergence from that of the overwhelming majority of other African Americans call important attention to the rifts within the civil rights movement -- and a substantial reason for them. As in any movement, clashing personalities and conflicting strategies proved divisive. The civil rights movement, however, also had to contend with concern over government surveillance. Inevitably, this bred distrust among activists who were leery of possible moles in their operations. The possibility was real. The government was watching, informants were lurking, and the quarry was anyone attempting to alter the status quo.688 Certain that the civil rights movement posed a threat to society, government authorities heavily monitored the activities of its various components.

Regardless of the legality of their work given their constitutional rights or its harmlessness to national security, civil rights activists had to be careful. Mr. Pope and

Jane Parker, the two local civilians who volunteered to provide evidence of discrimination at Ft. Devens, offer important evidence. Both desired to lend their on-site

687 Report, Walker to Bethune.

688 Kenneth O'Reilly, Racial Matters: The FBI's Secret File on Black America, 1960-1972. (New York: Free Press, 1989), 9-47; Ellen Schrecker, Many Are the Crimes: McCarthyism in America (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1998).

322 knowledge of the situation, yet were worried about possible repercussions in doing so. As a result, they took precautions, agreeing to supply information under the condition that their names “must not be disclosed.”689 Perhaps one of them authored a letter addressed to “Dear Ruby.” It contained a reminder that its source must remain confidential. “Please don’t mention my name,” read the note. “Steele may have some friends and he is afraid of the general.690 This same person may have also been responsible for another report on the case. It, too, insisted on strict anonymity: “Too much caution cannot be used in concealing the source of this information. Intelligence is already on the march, particularly to learn if any organizations are involved in getting information to and from the post.”691 In contrast, Walker was more open in his criticism of Steele. This may be due to his confidence that he had identified the informant in his circles, or simply out of foolhardy courage in his concern for a just outcome. In any case, as the Ft. Devens trial demonstrates, civil rights activists felt that acting on behalf of their cause – securing civil rights for all Americans – could put them at personal risk.

Not surprisingly, concerns of government surveillance took their toll on the movement. In the context of the Wac strike, these likely impeded the collection of evidence verifying racial discrimination at Ft. Devens. Investigators were wise to use

689 Carter to Wilkins, “Wac Strike in Massachusetts.”

690 The request continued, “I’m not quite ready to get out.” The source, therefore may have been a military officer, perhaps the black chaplain at Ft. Devens. The Army also sent civilians overseas, so the author remains in doubt. Letter, “Dear Ruby,” 17 March 1945, “Discrimination in the U.S. Armed Forces, 1918-1955,” NAACP Papers, Reel 19, Part 9, Series B, 1940-1955 (Columbus: Ohio State University) microfilm.

691 Ibid.

323 caution by hovering around sources rather than directly questioning them, working individually rather than collaboratively, and using guarded language in reports and intermediaries to pass on those reports. In the larger contest of the movement, their fears of informants and repercussions suggest how pervasive civil rights activists assumed government surveillance could be. The Wac case, after all, involved patriots in the armed services who had refused to work as orderlies, not communists seeking to open a red front. It was not an issue of national security. Nevertheless, Mr. Pope, Miss Parker, Mr.

Walker, and their contacts who agreed to requests for confidentiality accepted the need to be aware of insiders working for the government.692 The distrust among movement members of counter-intelligence officials secretly monitoring their operations led to minor fissures in the black response to the Ft. Devens case, and serious cleavages in the civil rights movement.

Over all, the civilian reaction to the Ft. Devens court-martial depicts a nation divided over issues of race and gender, and yet firm about what it meant to be an

American. Those who spoke out, regardless of their position on the case, demonstrated the importance that they placed on active citizenship through free expression. Newspaper commentaries and personal letters exude a sense of patriotic duty to participate in the democratic process – and a confident entitlement to freely voice opinions. Few seemed concerned with dissenting from the official government line. Not everyone, however, felt at such liberty to expose their views. Some of the Wacs supporters who were active in her

692 Robert Carter only briefly identities these persons as they preferred to remain anonymous. Carter to Wilkins, “Wac Strike in Massachusetts.”

324 defense suspected that they could be targets of government surveillance on the matter.

Consequently, they worked behind the scenes with a trepidation that compelled clandestine operations.

On March 15, Isadore Zack, an officer of the U.S. Army Counterintelligence

Corps, filed a War Department report on the Ft. Devens Wac strike. On March 23, he would send another, a detailed, two-page synopsis. On March 28, he filed one more.

Using “undercover colored agents,” Zack informed his superiors that “indignation swept throughout” Boston’s African American communities. He explained that they blamed the racially discriminatory practices of the Army for the strike and viewed the women as

“martyrs for a great cause.” Zack also passed on his informers’ reported conversations with Pittsburgh Courier reporter Leotha Hackshaw and the former chairman of Boston’s

NAACP, Ray W. Guild. According to one, Guild listed the causes of the strike as an unresponsive company commander (Stoney), “racial psychosis,” and “possibly the work of several agitators in the group.” Zack revealed his concerns over possible communist links to the case. His evidence was the involvement of representatives Vito Marcantonio and Adam Clayton Powell, Jr., “who are known to be in close contact with the

Communist Political Association,” and Doxey A. Wilkerson, “a Negro Communist writer for the Daily Worker.” Attached to his March 28 report, Zack submitted Wilkerson’s article about the Jim Crow Army and the Wac strike. His thorough report told of the

NAACP’s plans for the case, including preparations to send an investigator from the national office to Ft. Devens. (If accurate, this may have been Houston.) It also described local reaction to Crandall’s departure from Ft. Devens before the court-martial, the

Christian Science Monitor’s favorable (pro-Army) slant, and the tensions within Boston’s 325 black community over Steele’s comments and Rainey’s handling of the case. With the assistance of his informants, Zack sent confidential reports of Africans Americans’ activities in support of the Ft. Devens Wacs.693

On March 29, the NAACP’s national office disclosed that Thurgood Marshall, lead attorney of the organization’s Legal Defense Fund (LDF), would represent Young,

Green, Morison, and Murphy in their appeal.694 By accepting the case, Marshall indicated its potential significance to the overall goals of the civil rights movement as dictated by

LDF’s criteria. Deluged with thousands of petitions for legal assistance, the NAACP had to be brutally selective in determining those it would accept. In 1930, Marshall’s predecessors drafted the Margold Plan to assist in the selection process. According to the plan, the LDP would invest in a small number of precedent-setting cases chosen to

“boldly challenge the constitutional validity of segregation.” The intention was, “if and when accompanied irremediably by discrimination, we can strike directly at the most prolific sources of discrimination.”695 In a crammed field of “prolific sources of

693 Zack, “Refusal of Duty By Certain Members of WAC Detachment (Colored), Lovell General Hospital.”

694 Press Release, “NAACP Will Aid in Appeal.

695 Nathan Margold preceded Charles Houston and Thurgood Marshall at the helm of the NAACP’s legal team. Houston and Marshall agreed in principal with the plan to attack segregation head-on due to their limited funds. More aware of the racially intolerant climate than the white lawyer Margold, however, they had little faith that a few major cases would explode the concept of segregation for most Americans. Instead, they decided to expand their number of cases in order to lay a wide foundation for future direct assault on segregation and associated inequities. Jack Greenberg, Crusaders in the Courts (New York: Basic Books, 1994), 59. This may also be cited in Waldo Martin, Jr.’s book, 13.

326 discrimination,” the Army stood out as a most formidable example during the war.696

Marshall’s decision to represent Murphy, Morrison, Green, and Young underscored the significance of the strike action to the civil rights movement. By the time Marshall agreed to accept the case, the four women had already proven an effective vehicle in exposing the flawed racial segregation policy within one of society’s most racially contentious terrains, the U.S Army.697

Marshall had reason to feel he had a strong case. By the beginning of April, he and his team had on-the-ground evidence detailing, according to Marshall,

“discriminatory policies practiced against Negro Wacs” at Ft. Devens.698 He was no doubt alluding, at least in part, to the information that Walker and other (anonymous) volunteers were providing. An additionally favorable factor for the defense was Colonel

Crandall. The senior officer’s neglect of his black female troops seems to have been generally known around the post even before the strike, a point that Walker turned up during his investigation of Ft. Devens. According to his findings, even enlisted white soldiers were aware that Ft. Devens was a “hell-hole” for black Wacs and that the women were “up in arms” over their treatment.699 (Miles’ investigation uncovered similar

696 Juan Williams, Thurgood Marshall: American Revolutionary (New York: Random House, 1998).

697 Press Release, “NAACP Will Aid in Appeal.”

698 Letter, Thurgood Marshall to Mrs. Isabel Barmore, New York, 2 April 1945, “Discrimination in the U.S. Armed Forces, 1918-1955,” NAACP Papers, Reel 19, Part 9, Series B, 1940-1955 (Columbus: Ohio State University) microfilm.

699 Letter, Richard H. Walker to Mary McLeod Bethune, 24 March 1945. “Discrimination in the U.S. Armed Forces, 1918-1955,” NAACP Papers, Reel 19, Part 9, Series B, 1940-1955 (Columbus: Ohio State University) microfilm.

327 reactions around the base that led to Crandall’s transfer.700) The absence of such a pivotal figure as Crandall during the trial and the reason given – a thirty-day leave – fooled no one. The NAACP alluded to the suspicious excuse when it requested that Stimson remove the colonel from command of the black Wac detachment. Correctly surmising that Miles had already done so, it added that the leave “may or may not turn out to be the first stop in the transfer of the officer.” 701 When it was apparent that Crandall would not be available during the appeal either, Marshall took it in stride. In a letter to one of the women’s supporters, he remarked that the sudden leave of absence seemed to “justify our position in the matter.”702

Marshall could also rely on the defendants’ position as women in the military to build a favorable context for their service. As Wacs, all had freely volunteered for the military, a hugely popular act during World War II. Additionally, the War Department’s persistent campaign to recruit more Wacs, especially to train them as medical personnel, provided the opportunity to question the Army’s legitimate use of black Wacs at Lovell

Hospital as orderlies. As recently as January 13, 1945, two months before the strike, the

700 According to the First Service Command Investigation of the strike that Miles had ordered, a general view around the base was that “It seems to have been known that trouble was brewing in this detachment.” The investigations’ report was especially damning of Crandall, faulting him for his lack of knowledge of the situation and his poor leadership in dealing with the black WAC detachment. It also listed officers who claimed that Colonel Crandall’s administrative abilities were below standard. (A follow-up investigation, concluded that these allegations were mostly hearsay and exaggerated out of context.) “Investigation of SCU 1127, WAC Detachment, Lovell General Hospital, Ft. Devens, Mass,” 14 March 1945 RG 159, Entry 26E, Box 914, General Correspondence, 339.9, Stack 190, Row 17, Compartment 73, Shelf 00-1, NA.

701 Press Release, “NAACP Will Aid in Appeal.”

702 Letter, Marshall to Barmore.

328 War Department released a directive emphasizing that “every effort be made to recruit a maximum number of female technicians for the medical department.”703 The Army bombarded the media with full page ads. Throughout March – before the strike, during the Wacs’ incarceration, and after the trial – these ads regularly appeared in the local papers of the towns surrounding Ft. Devens. Each noted the shortages of hospital technicians, carried pictures of Wacs aiding soldiers (all white), and announced in bold captions the desperate need for more Wacs: “Women …. our wounded need your care,” and “Women … our wounded cannot wait.”704 The fact that during this much hyped national shortage crisis of medical personnel, Lovell Hospital refused to train black Wacs as medical technicians, or use the three who arrived already certified in this capacity, provided fertile grounds for planting a case around racism.

Marshall undoubtedly expected the female defendants, as women soldiers, to continue to capture greater attention, wider support, and more sympathy from the public than male defendants in similar cases. “As to the young ladies themselves,” he assured the Park Avenue champion of the four, “… we are doing everything we possibly can [on] their behalf.“705 As March ended, the case’s high profile and favorable publicity among black and white Americans had proven a valuable asset for the defense. On April 2,

703 See War Department report, “Recruiting for Army General Hospital Companies (WAC),” 13 January 1945, RG 165, Stack 390, Row 31, Comp 6-8, Entry 55, Box 189, NA.

704 Ads from the Fitchburg (Mass.) Sentinel, 8 March 1945 (“An Open Letter to All New England Women”), 24 March and 31 March 1945.

705 Letter, Marshall to Barmore.

329 Marshall was waiting for the court-martial transcript in order to “determine exactly what legal steps can be taken toward assisting them when the case is reviewed.”706

Two weeks before, Miles had been waiting for another document on the strike, the First Service Command investigation that he had promised the Wacs who returned to duty he would order. Commencing on the Monday after the strike, the investigation took two days and consisted of interviews of twenty-five Wacs who had been part of the original strike. Its findings were revealing. So numerous were the administrative inconsistencies in the treatment of black Wacs at Ft. Devens that the Command’s

Assistant Inspector, General William J. White, concluded that “the complaints of the enlisted personnel of SCU 1127 are in general justified.”707 This was not a ringing endorsement of the defendants, whom White labeled “recalcitrant girls who refuse to perform their duty,” but rather a recognition that extenuating circumstances may have contributed to the strike. Rather than fault the Army’s segregation policies, however,

White cited Colonel Crandall’s poor handling of the situation. His recommendations included that “consideration be given to the immediate transfer of Colonel Walter M.

Crandall from Lovell General Hospital.” He advised Miles to do so discretely. “It galls me,” wrote White, that the defendants would “get the impression that it was solely to their actions that such measures had been taken.”708 Miles followed through on White’s recommendation and considered further steps to defuse the situation.

706 Ibid.

707 SCU 1127 = the black detachment’s unit.

708 The investigating officer interviewed other staff officers who were of unanimous opinion that Crandall’s administrative abilities were below standard; see “Investigation of SCU 1127,” para. 26 and Part V, para. 30. 330 From the moment the story hit the press, however, the case had begun slipping out of Miles’ and staff’s exclusive purview. The public reaction to the verdict and sentence was intense and relentless, and regardless to whom citizens and organizations directed their concerns, all ultimately converged on the Secretary of War. Shortly after the trial, therefore, Stimson ordered his staff to take an active role in the case. Upon viewing

Miles’ documents on the Wac strike and the court-martial, the War Department’s judge advocates noted the problems in the Army’s case. An appeal, they agreed, would not be without its difficulties. Miles felt otherwise, and he stuck by the original verdict of the court-martial. Reviews of general courts-martial normally fell under the jurisdiction of a services’ commanding officer, in this case, Miles, and he was confident that he had done everything in his power to ensure that the Wacs had understood the consequences of pursuing the strike and that those who accepted the court-martial had a fair trial. “I naturally wanted to be very sure that I would not have a miscarriage of justice through any legal technicality,” he later recalled.709

Given the unusual civilian interest, the War Department had evidently determined that the case required the expertise of personnel more experienced in dealing with the public than Miles with his by-the-book approach. It therefore ordered its assistant judge advocate general in charge of military justice matters, Colonel William A. Rounds, to take the lead in resolving the matter. As the NAACP, the press, and public geared up for

709 Ibid.

331 the appeal, Rounds and Miles began to negotiate how to best manage a military case that had already captured ravenous public attention.710

Within just two weeks of the end of the court-martial, the tremendous and diverse civilian reaction to the conviction of Anna Morrison, Alice Young, Mary Green, and

Johnnie Murphy transformed a straight-forward case of insubordination into a fresh platform for the public debate on segregation. It had spurred several congressional requests for reports about the strike (and the attempted suicides), led to the removal of a high-ranking officer, and forced the War Department to respond to its critics. This last point alone was an extraordinary development. Scores of race-based incidents – many enveloped in controversy and accompanied by large public protests – were common fare for all of the services before and during World War II. Few incidents, however, had spread so widely and spiked as quickly as the Ft. Devens court-martial featuring black enlisted women. The Army conceded to civilians’ demands for a review of the case and then, in a most unusual move, promptly moved to seek a compromise solution to assuage the public outcry. Thus, the Army’s response to the public protests over its disciplining of the Wacs at Ft. Devens took a far different course than it normally did when dealing with black male troops. Rather than digging in its heels to maintain the conviction and occasionally offer piecemeal reductions after long and hard-fought legal battles, the

Army quickly attempted to bring the case of black Wacs, and the scrutiny over its treatment of them, to a close.

710 Miles and Rounds, 28-30 1945, contained within the records of the General Court-Martial, U.S. Army v. Young. 332 Chapter 8. Mutinous Behavior

“Sorry it had to happen yet we glory in your spirit and are with you one hundred percent.” 711

When family members and friends of the four defendants learned of the court- martial at Ft. Devens, they rallied to the women’s defense. Alice Young’s parents sent their support in a telegram: “Dear Daughter, have heard the news. Sorry it had to happen yet we glory in your spirit and are with you one hundred percent.”712 That same day her sister Julia sent another: “Chin up. The Youngs are gathering. Help is on the way.”713 For

African Americans, courts-martial did not necessarily imply misbehavior and could in fact signify valor. Mary Green’s father, Reverend Joseph Amerson, indicated as much when he told reporters that “he would rather Mary face trial for insubordination than some question arise against her integrity.”714 Anna Morrison received a biblical quotation-filled letter from Bessie H. Hipkins, relationship unknown, applauding her courage: “God bless you for the stand you have taken.”715 Johnnie Murphy’s friend was

711 Telegram, “The Family” to Alice Young, Washington, D.C., 21 March 1945, included with in the records of the War Department Investigation.

712 Ibid.

713 Ibid., Telegram, Julia to Alice Young, Washington, D.C., 21 March 1945.

714 O.J. Cansler, “Conroe Girl Proud of Being in the WAC,” The Pittsburgh Courier, 7 April 1945, 14.

715 Letter, Bessie Hipkins to Anna Morrison, included in the records of the War Department Investigation. 333 less formal but just as adamant in her praise. “I hear you’re in confinement! Good girl, so am I.”716

The support of family, friends, and community no doubt provided welcomed solace for Alice Young, Johnnie Murphy, Anna Morrison, and Mary Green. After their conviction, the Army moved the four to a security area at Lovell Hospital North, Ward

172, where bars on the windows provided a harsh reminder of their new status. There they bided their time awaiting the appeal, utterly devastated by the verdict. “If things don’t … change soon,” wrote Young to a friend, “I think I’ll just finish things up my way by ending it all in a long, long sleep and tell them I’ll see them in heaven on Judgment

Day and finish my Courts-martial in Hell.”717 Morrison admitted years later that she “had a hate for the whole world.”718 Like the others, she resented the Army reneging on its promises, the prosecutor dismissing their concerns, and the women’s own lawyer’s seeming disinterest in their case. Several days after the trial, the distraught women were each handed a case transcript, a weighty inch and a half document. They promptly discarded their copies into the nearest receptacle.719 Held incommunicado and surrounded by officers who opposed their actions and censored their mail, the women were

716 Ibid. Letter, Pvt. Jackie Murphy to Johnnie Murphy, Camp Myles Standish Sta. Hosp., Stanton, Massachusetts (date unknown).

717 Ibid. Letter, Alice Young to “Hank.”

718 Author’s interview with Anna Morrison, telephone, 26 March 2002.

719 Ibid.

334 apparently unaware of the strike’s impact on the public. Half a century later, Morrison could recall that just one paper, The Chicago Defender, had carried their story.720

Curiosity about the black Wac defendants generated wide publicity, yet the challenges the strike posed to the status quo on two of its most entrenched fronts, race and gender roles, undergirded the fierce debate. As we have seen, newspapers around the country so widely reported developments of the case that during the spring of 1945, the case provided a significant focal point for racial discourse. If most whites who joined the debate insisted on their belief in equal rights for all Americans, many seemed less willing to concede the point if it threatened white privilege. The persistence of housing covenants, school segregation, and hate strikes to protest working with black employees attests a desire to maintain a status quo that gave whites preferential access to societal benefits.

In this respect, the Ft. Devens incident is representative of the tens of thousands of race-based military incidents during World War II in at least three ways. First, the Army and its sister services were determined to prevent encroachments into the conventional social hierarchy, if necessary, through military disciplinary measures. Second, African

American military personnel were determined to resist subjugation and assert their rights despite the severe consequences of military discipline. A court of law, after all,

720 Decades after the strike, Morrison did not recall other papers’ interest in the strike. She must have heard about it at the time, however, as it media coverage had been so extensive. Author’s interview with Anna Morrison, telephone, 26 March 2002; According to The Pittsburgh Courier, the women were held incommunicado, “ New Evidence in WAC Case,” Pittsburgh Courier, 31 March 1945, 1; In light of their incarceration, a letter from Mary Green is particularly curious. Dated 1 April 1945 and affixed with the censor’s signature, Green tells her sister, Rhodessa White, that she is “visiting a friend at the present time in New York,” and concludes, “I am going back to camp tonight.” Letter included in records of the War Department Investigation.

335 presumably provided an impartial platform to contest inequitable treatment. Third, the Ft.

Devens case also notes how mired race-based incidents were in contests over white privilege – and how the military and the mainstream press bypassed this aspect to focus instead on the offending actions of black defendants.

In conjunction with other disciplinary incidents involving African Americans, the

Ft. Devens court-martial also reveals the extent to which some white Americans assumed that African Americans in uniform heralded a change that needed to be – figuratively and literally – arrested. Often military officers assisted this purpose by using the disciplinary measures at their disposal. Employing conventional terminology such as “riots,”

“assaults,” and “mutinies” to describe collective protest against the status quo aided this effort. Such inflammatory terms diverted attention from the inequitable treatment that sparked the actions to questions over the fitness of black service personnel for military service: Did they have the ability to perform their duties? Were they willing to abide by military standards? Most ominously, were their allegiances to the state or to their race?

The language the military used to describe these cases branded them as insidious. As one veteran worried, “They are getting nervier every day in the week.”721

Indeed, the sheer number of such cases alarmed many white Americans concerned with overall black intentions. The Ft. Devens strike was just one of an astonishing number of highly publicized collective actions, over twenty, by black military personnel

721 Survey response in a War Department survey of disable veterans conducted in November and December 1944. “Veterans’ Readjustment to Civilian Life,” 23 March 1945, Papers of Harry Truman, WHCF: Confidential File, Box 35, File: War Department – Veterans [Report on Veteran’s readjust to Civilian Life, 1947].The Truman Library, Independence, Missouri.

336 during World War II. A comparison of the Ft. Devens strike to these other cases, in particular to two large-scale “mutinies,” one at Mare Island, California and the other at

Freeman Field, Indiana, calls attention to the role of race, gender, and rank in disciplinary cases.

The number of disciplinary cases involving African American military personnel exploded during World War II. The most combustible year, 1943, also witnessed some of the most violent protests. Historian Jack Foner noted that in the South alone, so many protests took place early that year that the black press “carried almost weekly accounts of insults, violence, and homicide directed at black soldiers.”722 Ulysses Lee, the official

Army historian of African Americans during the war marked the summer of 1943 as the

“high point [of] both of incidents of violence and of official concern.”723 Indeed, the situation so beleaguered Army Chief of Staff General George Marshall that he exclaimed to a reporter, “My God! My God! … I tell you frankly, [the race question in the Army] is the worst thing we have to deal with.”724 The violence ebbed after 1943, though not racial discrimination or resistance to it. 725 As Lee notes, “racial friction of one sort or another continued through the war.”726 Indeed, ten of the most highly publicized collective

722 Jack Foner, “Early in 1943, the black press carried almost weekly accounts of insults, violence, and homicide directed at black soldiers” in the South alone. Foner, Black and the Military in American History, 154.

723 See Chapter XII, “Harvest of Disorder,” Lee, Employment of Negro Troops, 348-379.

724 Klinkner, Unsteady March, 186.

725 One of the reasons for the ebbing of racial violence in the United States after 1943 was undoubtedly the deployment of so many men to battlefields outside the country.

726 See Chapter XII, “Harvest of Disorder,” Lee, Employment of Negro Troops, 348-379.

337 incidents of the war occurred in 1944 and 1945. By then, however, agitated black units were less likely to protest with fists than through collective actions.727 Military policies, after all, were increasingly dictating equitable treatment for all races, and these gave

African American men and women in uniform legal grounds for legitimate protests – or so they assumed.

Military records showcase that African American disciplinary cases far outnumbered those of whites on a per capita basis. For instance, black soldiers constituted just 6.5 percent of Army personnel, yet they received well over 20 percent of its Section VIII discharges. Though not dishonorable discharges, they were not honorable discharges either.728 Such facts are not in dispute, though the reasons are. African

Americans, in and out of the military, interpreted this imbalance as proof of widespread discrimination in the military that fueled disciplinary problems. Segregation, they argued, not only led to resistance, but justified it. Whites used the same data as evidence of

African Americans’ alleged intellectual and character flaws: a natural incompetence, proclivity towards physical violence, and propensity to cry racism when things did not go their way. Speaking at cross-purposes, African Americans announced their pride in the very military personnel many whites denounced as unfit, unpatriotic, and quite possibly subversive.

727 Klinkner, Unsteady March, 182.

728 Popularly known as blue dismissals, the Army used Section VIIIs to rid itself of those whom it considered unsuitable for the military service. This included those with mental illnesses, persons suspected of homosexuality, and, as often in the case of African Americans, individuals who seemed unwilling to adapt to Army policies. Recipients, therefore, left the service without veteran benefits or presentable discharge papers to show prospective employers. Philip McGuire, He, Too, Spoke for Democracy (New York: Greenwood Press, 1988), 72-73.

338 With tension high, many white Americans detected dangers behind the actions of

African Americans. One white Missouri man, obviously uncomfortable at having to share his sleeping car with black men, felt the need to personally inform the Army Chief of

Staff, General George Marshall, of his upsetting encounter with several black soldiers.

The men, after all, had neglected to close their bed curtains while in their shorts. The offended traveler warned, “This practice is most regrettable and I do not hesitate to assure you that, if continued, following peace may lead to very serious consequences.”729 A woman who worked with African American Wacs likewise advised Eleanor Roosevelt that “any little thing will start them on a tangent of unleashed emotion that just might be terrifying in its results.”730 Shortly after the strike, Colonel Crandall told investigators that a black Wac had angrily warned him, “We colored people are going to reach opposition, which we will accomplish when we return to civil life.’’ Presumably intending to indicate an insidious purpose behind the strike, Crandall added, “Now whether that is back of this whole disturbance or not, I don’t know.”731

To accommodate those alarmed or otherwise disturbed by the breeches in the status quo by black service personnel, some white citizens took it upon themselves to protect their exclusive social standing and accompanying racial privileges. Their efforts are well-documented by black servicemen and women who complained of train

729 Letter, R.A. “Bob” Hogin, Southeastern Division Mgr. Of Consolidated Chemical Laboratories, Inc, Saint Louis Missouri, to George Marshall, 5 June 1945, RG 407, Stack 270, Row 21, Comp 35, Shelf 3-5, Entry 363, Box 1062, File 291.2 (6-1-45 to 12-31-45), NA.

730 Letter with no name attached to “Dear First Lady,” Des Moines, IA, 13 August 1943, RG 165, Stack 390, Row 31, Comp 4, NA.

731 Colonel Walter Crandall, interview, 19 April 1945, War Department Investigation.

339 conductors drawing curtains around them as they ate in dining cars, civilian bus drivers on military installations giving preference to white troops, and post exchange clerks waiting on white customers before serving them.732 Conditions tended to deteriorate for

African American service personnel the further south they traveled in the United States.

As historians Philip A. Klinkner and Roger M. Smith explain, “Wartime threats to Jim

Crow only made many southern whites even more adamant in its defense.”733 A

Birmingham, Alabama official framed the issue as protecting white womanhood and the purity of the race: “There’s not one man down here going to let his daughter sleep with a nigger, or sit at the same table with a nigger, or go walking with a nigger. The war can go to hell, the world can go to hell, but he ain’t going to do it.”734

Such resentment by many whites, especially in the South, over the widening roles, terrain, and expectations of African American service personnel paralleled the increasing confidence of the latter to resist such treatment.735 Clashes were inevitable as black service members held their ground. A bus driver in Durham, North Carolina shot and

732 Such cases are well-documented: letter, Florence Culkin’s to NAACP, 12 December 1944; Letter, Wilkins to Stimson, 15 March 1945, “Discrimination in the U.S. Armed Forces, 1918- 1955,” NAACP Papers, Reel 19, Part 9, Series B, 1940-1955 (Columbus: Ohio State University) microfilm. The Chicago and Southern Airline Company maintained a separate section on their planes with southern routes, assigning black passengers to the front. The company insisted the policy was not due to discrimination but rather to their desire to provide them with the most comfortable seats, Chicago Defender, 10 March 1945.

733 Klinkner, Unsteady March, 168.

734 Ibid., 168; Gilmore, Defying Dixie, 381.

735 Klinkner, Unsteady March, 117.

340 killed an unarmed black private, claiming self-defense.736 He was acquitted. White residents near an Arkansas Army base violently attacked an incoming unit of black troops. No civilians were brought up on charges, while several of the recent arrivals were court-martialed.737 So rampant was the problem of civilian hostility to black troops that the National Lawyers Guild sent a report to the Justice and War departments alerting them that “Civilian violence against the Negro in uniform is a recurrent phenomenon.”738

Such reports generally carried little weight within a military hierarchy determined to maintain the status quo. In a 1943 report on racial issues within the South Pacific forces, the Commanding General of the region appraised his black service personnel poorly, noting that they “do not assimilate training as readily [as white troops] and require constant supervision by officers.”739 This common view created obstacles for

African Americans in the military where an officer’s decree is law, including those who blatantly protected white-privilege. Not even official Army-wide directives could stem abusive practices. As early as December of 1940, Army Regulation (AR) 210-10 had desegregated post recreational facilities.740 A 1944 directive further desegregated base

736 During the July 1944 on-bus confrontation, some white soldiers had sided with the private, Booker T. Spicely. An all-white jury acquitted the bus driver. Florence Murray, The Negro Handbook, 1946-47 (New York: Current Books, Inc., 1947), 355.

737 Foner, Black and the Military in American History, 153-54.

738 Ibid., 155.

739 Commanding General of the South Pacific, “Paraphrased radio address,” 2 October 1943; General Eisenhower similar commented, 7 October 1943, RG 165, Stack Area 390, Row 30, Comp 04, Shelf 5, Box 61, Entry #13, NA.

740 Lee, Employment of Negro Troops 304.

341 theaters, transportation, and post exchanges.741 Nevertheless, commanders could easily find ways around these policies.742 Indeed, one option was to simply ignore them. The black Wacs at Ft. Devens spoke of a post club specifically for African American personnel despite the de jure interrogation of such facilities by Army decree.743

Officers had little concern that their superiors would object to their actions. This is clearly evident in one of the War Department’s more astonishing directives, one that also confounded the medical community. In 1941, the War Department instructed the

Red Cross to separate its blood bank donations according to the race of the donor in order to avoid infusions of black blood into white veins. As late as April 1945, an advisor to the

Surgeon General of the Army was defending this practice. Without medical grounds upon which to stand, he explained that whites would not donate their plasma otherwise.744

Regardless of the reason, the fact that a national health expert agreed to segregate black blood from the blood of other Americans only justified segregation by reinforcing presumptions of white superiority. Overly eager commanders determined to do their part

741 Richard M. Dalfiume, Desegregation of the U.S. Armed Forces: Fighting on Two Fronts, 1939-1953, Columbia, Missouri: University of Missouri Press, 1969, 88.

742 Some commanders skirted the ruling by changing the names of clubs and facilities from “Negro” to “Number 2.” Others slightly altered African American unit designations prior to posting separate seating, according to units, in theaters and mess halls. Foner, Black and the Military in American History, 157-158.

743 Anthony BT Milburn, “Conflicting Interest: The 477th Bomber Group Mutiny, April 1945” (Ph.D. diss., Ohio State University, 1997), 2; Klinkner, Unsteady March, 186; Moore, Brenda L. To Serve My Country, To Serve My Race: The Story of the Only African American Wacs Stationed Overseas During World War II. NY: New York University Press, 1996, 74-75.

744 Murray, Negro Handbook 1946-47, 373-374.

342 to retain the status quo spouted racist remarks and posting “colored only” signs.745 More often, officers found segregating their troops a matter of convenience even when not obligatory. Throughout the war, black service personnel complained of sitting behind

German POWs during USO shows and other performances. “Nothing so lowers Negro morale,” declared a March 1945 article in the NAACP’s The Crisis, “as the frequent preferential treatment of Axis prisoners of war in contrast with the deprecatory Army policy toward American troops who happen to be Negro.”746 African Americans vehemently complained to their officers of the military’s racist treatment. Army support for segregation, however, and, by extension, the notion of black inferiority, diminished the standing of the authors of those complaints. As a result, African American personnel were left largely on their own to resolve their problems.

African Americans, therefore, resorted to alternative measures to air their grievances, including work stoppages and self-defense initiatives. The military had little toleration for such unauthorized actions and attitudes, and this contributed to the proportionally higher number of disciplinary charges against black troops as compared to white troops. During his extensive travels to military installations, NAACP president

Walter White found that black soldiers who insisted on being accorded their rights “were considered ‘bad Negroes’ who were to be assigned the most unpleasant and humiliating

745 One of many documented examples of “colored” signs is at Ft. Breckenridge, Kentucky. Letter, NAACP to Truman Gibson, 4 November 1943, “Discrimination in the U.S. Armed Forces, 1918-1955,” NAACP Papers, Reel 5, Part 9, Series C, 1940-1955 (Columbus: Ohio State University) microfilm. (It also occurred at Freeman Field, IN.)

746 As quoted in Foner, Black and the Military in American History, 153.

343 tasks to break their spirit and to be court-martialed if other methods failed.”747 Not all black soldiers and Wacs who went AWOL, drank on duty, and otherwise misbehaved were altruistically inspired, yet many of those court-martialed during the war were conscientious citizens resisting racial discrimination. In 1944, future baseball legend

Jackie Robinson, who had already made a name for himself in college sports, was apparently among those “bad Negroes.” As an Army lieutenant stationed at Ft. Hood,

Texas, he had quarreled with a civilian bus driver over Jim Crow directives on public transportation. Shortly afterwards, a brief but front page article in The Pittsburgh Courier announced, “Lt. Jackie Robinson Faces Court-Martial.”748 The Army had charged

Robinson with military insubordination despite the fact that he had confronted a civilian with no military standing over him.

The Ft. Devens strike was the most publicized of the Wac incidents, yet it followed a pattern, already developed in just three years of the corps existence, of officers imposing a rigid social order on black Wacs who challenged their authority. In 1943, the commander of Ft. Knox, Kentucky assigned his new company of black Wacs as “Food

Cart Girls” at the base hospital. Just as at Ft. Devens, officers initially found that the women’s “attitude was the attitude of a good soldier who knows that there is a job to do

747 Foner, Black and the Military in American History, 149.

748 Robinson welcomed the court-martial and courted publicity to expose the segregation he experience, and this undoubtedly led to his acquittal. “Lt. Jackie Robinson Faces Court-Martial, 5 August 1945, The Pittsburgh Courier, 1; John Vernon, “’Mr. Jim Crow, Meet Lt. Robinson’: The Court-Martial of Jackie Robinson,” Prologue Magazine, National Archives of the United States. Spring 2008, Vol. 40, No.1 (http://www.archives.gov/publications/prologue/2008/ spring/robinson.html).

344 and does it without asking questions.” 749 As the months passed, however, the Ft. Knox

Wacs began complaining of their menial chores of cleaning wards and running errands.

They appealed to their post commander and asked him for the technical training and specialized jobs their recruiters had promised them. He gave them instead a visit by white

WAC officer Captain Marian R. McKay, called in to investigate their grievances.

McKay’s inquiries uncovered the chief complaints of “long hours, too heavy work, and the impossibility of bettering themselves.”750 Dismissing assertions of racial discrimination, she reasoned that the problem stemmed from the Wacs’ refusal to recognize personal deficiencies which led in turn to unrealistic expectations for duties beyond their capabilities.751 At McKay’s request, Maj. Harriet West, the black Wac officer for black WAC affairs, traveled to Ft. Knox to review the case. She, too, dismissed the complaints and afterwards met with the black Wac detachment. In a “20 minute lecture,” West assured the enlisted women that “Both Negro and white WACs are doing the same types of jobs wherever qualified women are available,” and advised them to “avoid carrying a chip on the shoulder.” (The food carts, after all, were not that heavy.)

749 According to an investigating officer, the black Wac Commanding officer of the detachment noted their initial enthusiasm. Memo, Captain Marian R. McKay, Classification Specialist to Commanding Officer, Field Inspection Unit, Subject: “Negro Company, 1550the Service Unit, Ft. Knox, Kentucky, 18 October 1943; intra-office memo, Major Harriet West to Field Survey Division, ”Report on Field trip to Ft Know, KY,” 8 November 1943, Entry 54, RG 165.

750 Pvt. Roberta McKenzie, 23 December 1944, Discrimination in the U.S. Armed Forces, 1918- 1955,” NAACP Papers, Reel 19, Part 9, Series B, 1940-1955 (Columbus: Ohio State University) microfilm.

751 Captain Marian R. McKay, Classification Specialist to Commanding Officer, Field Inspection Unit, Subject: “Negro Company, 1550the Service Unit, Ft. Knox, Kentucky, 18 October 1943; intra-office memo, Major Harriet West to Field Survey Division, ”Report on Field trip to Ft Knox, KY,” 8 November 1943, RG 165, Stack 390, Row 31, Comp. 4, Shelf 03-4, Entry 54, NA.

345 According to West’s notes, the women felt pleased to have a chance to “have their minds cleared on certain points.” Attention to the Ft. Knox Wacs’ grievances most likely averted a strike, but it did not resolve the issues that could have led to one.752

Another 1943 incident also took place at Camp Breckinridge, another post in

Kentucky. It involved black Wacs who had trained as supply specialists. Despite their training, the commander of the post put them to work in odd jobs such as stacking cots, scrubbing floors, and washing walls. The women protested and asked to work in their field of specialization. When their commander refused, six of the Wacs conducted a work stoppage that would last a total of five days.753 Soon afterwards, their commander discharged them. In response to a NAACP inquiry into the possibility of reinstatement, the civilian aide to the secretary of war, Truman Gibson, admitted that officers had improperly assigned the women. He then gave assurances that those responsible, including a black Wac officer, had been reprimanded over the affair. Nevertheless, he explained, “there can never be any justification, no matter how improper the order might have been, to disobey a superior.” The women were not reinstated. 754

752 Captain Marian R. McKay, Classification Specialist to Commanding Officer, Field Inspection Unit, Subject: “Negro Company, 1550the Service Unit, Ft. Knox, Kentucky, 18 October 1943; intra-office memo, Major Harriet West to Field Survey Division, ”Report on Field trip to Ft Know, KY,” 8 November 1943, RG 165, Stack 390, Row 31, Comp. 4, Shelf 03-4, Entry 54, NA.

753 One of those seeking reinstatement, Ruth Mae Jones, told reporters that all of the strikers were northerners because the southerners Wacs “were afraid to join.” The Philadelphia Afro- American, 10 July 1943.

754 Due to the changeover from the WAAC to the WAC, the post commander discharged the women from the service and marked them ineligible for reenlistment into the WAC. See “Discrimination in the U.S. Armed Forces, 1918-1955,” NAACP Papers, Reel 5, Part 9, Series B, 1940-1955 (Columbus: Ohio State University) microfilm.

346 With little internal pressure to temper personal prejudices or enforce compliance with military policies, officers prioritized segregation over equal treatment. In a

November 1945 report on postwar utilization of black troops, Colonel E.F. Olsen defended the practice of segregation, warning that African Americans were more loyal to their race than to their country:

The history of the Negro soldier, both in peace and wartime, indicates that

his greatest concern is that of race. In many instances, they have put

advantage to race before service to their country. This factor must be

recognized and obliterated, to the extent that their country … comes first

above everything else, and that military consideration alone should

govern.755

Suggestions of divided loyalties lent a sinister edge to black resistance measures to racist treatment, and this verified for many white Americans festering notions of subversive intentions among African Americans. Widespread assumptions that black defendants put race before country conveniently justified the military’s intolerance of challenges to its segregation policies. “Insubordination” merely inferred localized and manageable problems. “Subversion” hinted at far more devious motives, including possible links to suspicious networks intent on undermining the nation’s democratic and capitalist system. To many people, any suggestion of subversion irrevocably tainted

755 Memorandum, Col. E.F. Olsen, Ground Adjutant General, for Chief of Staff, US Army, 28 November 1945, Bernard C. Nalty and Morris J. MacGregor, Blacks in the Military: Essential Documents. (Wilmington, Delaware: Scholarly Resources, Inc., 1982), 180.

347 African Americans’ responses to racial discrimination, thereby casting their actions as anti-American, perhaps even part of a socialist conspiracy.

African Americans, of course, did not object to officers using military discipline to maintain order in the ranks, but rather their use of it to maintain a racist social order.

On base, officers had the authority to deter even legitimate protests against discriminatory treatment. Off base, especially in the South, they could use it to assist local enforcement of Jim Crow laws and customs. Many black soldiers had moral issues with submitting to degrading practices such as “colored only” water fountains and restaurants. Northerners in particular, unused to these expectations, often purposely or inadvertently, violated them.756 In doing so, they could easily find themselves subjects of disciplinary hearings. The Army’s prioritizing of peaceful relations with local civilians over the rights and dignity of their black troops increased the potential for African

Americans to run afoul of military regulations. This was additionally likely when base commanders approved the use of military police to rein in black service personnel over disputes of Jim Crow laws.”757 Unnerving as it was for African Americans, the military’s courteous respect for local customs was much appreciated by local authorities. As the

Governor of Alabama, Frank Dixon, remarked, “The war emergency should not be used as a pretext to bring about abolition of the color line in the South.”758

756 Lee, Employment of Negro Troops, 356-359.

757 Klinkner, Unsteady March, 166.

758 Frank Dixon was also a nephew of Thomas Dixon, the founder of the Klu Klux Klan. Klinkner, Unsteady March, 169-170.

348 Southern policies could make law-breaking difficult for African American service personnel to avoid, yet this was particularly true when civilians singled them out for hostile treatment.759 Being female did not necessarily offer protection. In a notorious

1944 incident in Alabama, police officers viciously attacked two black Wacs for refusing to vacate their seats on a bus for white passengers. “Just because you’re in the uniform,” shouted one of the officers, “you think you’re smart. You’re still a God-damn nigger down here in the South with us.”760 The police then arrested the women. One of them was

Pvt. Roberta McKenzie, who later reported that the policemen repeatedly pushed, shoved, beat, and threatened her and her companions.761 A similar incident took place in 1945, this time in a Kentucky bus station. It was there that a policeman ordered three black

Wacs to leave the nearly empty white waiting area for the overcrowded black section, shouting, “Git out of here! This place ain’t for niggers.” When they refused, the officer beat the women, one of them so badly that she spent a week in a hospital recovering.

Despite their injuries, when the Wacs returned to base, they faced a court-martial for disorderly conduct while in uniform. Fortunately, in a rare occasion when the facts of the case won over the prejudices of the prosecution, a court-martial board cleared the women of wrongdoing.762 The policeman, of course, was not disciplined.

759 Klinkner, Unsteady March, 171.

760 Testimony of Pvt. Roberta McKenzie,” 23 December 1944, “Discrimination in the U.S. Armed Forces, 1918-1955,” NAACP Papers, Reel 25, Part 9, Series B, 1940-1955 (Columbus: Ohio State University) microfilm.

761 Ibid.

762 Putney, When the Nation Was In Need, 65-67. The Army’s version of the incident contends that the Wacs began the fight. “All three of the women then started beating him and Irwin drew his black jack and started striking the women with it.,” “Army Service Forces, Headquarters Fifth 349 Nevertheless, the fact that the Army tried servicewomen who were clearly the injured parties sent African Americans the message that, on or off post, the Army would not tolerate defiance against segregation. Even Young and Green tried to back out of their strike when the reality of a court-martial finally hit home. The swift regularity of disciplinary action against African Americans, no matter how valid the reason, likely convinced them that they stood little chance in court. Sentences could be, as their own court-martial demonstrated, inordinately severe.

White Wacs also faced discrimination, as did black Wacs, as female personnel.

Despite the attempts of the director of the WAC, Colonel Oveta Hobby, to carefully negotiate a balance between femininity and soldiering, she continually received requisitions for women, black and white, to work in laundry rooms and mess halls. Some commanders took it upon themselves to assign enlisted white women to watch children, clean homes, cook meals, and serve beer at functions as barmaids.763 High ranking officers developed a penchant for employing Wacs as chauffeurs and personal secretaries.

Much to Hobby’s chagrin, by the end of the war over 14 percent of WAC officers in the

European Theatre worked as “personal assistants” to officers.764 Noting the reports of

Wacs working at jobs below their qualifications, Treadwell wrote, “Very few stations

Service Command,” Ft. Hayes, Columbus, Ohio, 27 July 1945, RG 165, Stack 390, Row 31, Comp 41, NA.

763 Leisa Meyer, Creating GI Jane: Sexuality and Power in the Women's Army Corps during World War II. Irvington, New York: Columbia University Press, 1993), 81-82.

764 Ibid., 565.

350 were entirely free from such practices.”765 White Wacs also complained of their ratings, which remained consistently behind those of men.

Overall, however, white Wacs had far more opportunities for training, assignments, travel, and promotions than their black counterparts. Of the 150,000 women who enlisted in the WAC, almost half worked in administrative or office duties by 1944 and almost a fifth in technical and professional jobs. Others had jobs as mechanics and communication specialists. According to Treadwell, Wacs were working in 274 different military jobs by May of that year, including thousands sent overseas.766 They also often worked in close proximity to officers, where they could develop professional relationships and prove their value. Certainly, white Wacs also faced difficulties, though the most publicized incident of white Wac disciplinary problems concerned neither jobs nor promotions, but the transfer of one of their most popular members. At Ft. Belvoir,

Virginia in October of 1944, over a hundred white Wacs threatened to go AWOL in protest of their new commanding officer and first sergeant whom they accused of

“Gestapo-like” treatment.767 Treadwell notes a deterioration in the “high morale and idealism” among Wacs towards the end of the war, which led to an increase of

765 Treadwell, Women’s Army Corps, 545.

766 Ibid., 559.

767 The Army conducted an investigation, defended the captain and the first sergeant, and asserted that the transfer was legitimate. The Army demoted four of the Wacs involved for “imposing on the confidence of the press,” transferred the first sergeant, and indicated that it would soon transfer the captain as well. The incident is the only publicized case of a collective white Wac action uncovered in an extensive review of WAC disciplinary matters. Ruth Montgomery, “WACs’ Mutiny Gets ‘Gestapo’ Sarge Shifted,” New York Daily News, 2 December 1944. “Publicity, Ads, 1942-1949, III” Box 296, File 228_01, WHC-528, Army Women’s Museum Archives, Ft. Lee, Va.

351 disciplinary problems. Such incidents were rare, however, as morale among Wacs during

World War II was overall positive.768

White Wacs were not subject to the Army’s racial segregation policies in the same manner as black Wacs and were therefore less likely to violate military policy. A study of the disciplinary issues among Wacs overseas illustrates just how rare prosecutions of white Wacs were during World War II. In Mattie Treadwell’s history of the WAC, she reveals that in the two and a half years during which approximately 2,000

Wacs were stationed in North African and the Mediterranean Theaters, not one faced a general court-martial and fewer than forty were brought before special and summary courts-martial for less serious offenses.769 In Europe, with over 8,000 Wacs stationed in theater, the Army court-martialed just two of them. As one European Theater of

Operations report noted, soldiers “violated miscellaneous Articles of War 150 times as often” as Wacs.770 The situation was much the same in the Pacific region. Among the

5,500 Wacs who served in the area, Treadwell found that “detachment disciplinary records seldom revealed greater than exceedingly minor offenses.”771 Since the Army assigned less than one thousand black servicewomen overseas, these statistics represent predominately all white Wac units.772

768 Treadwell, Women’s Army Corps, 712.

769 Ibid., 372.

770 Ibid., 380; 399.

771 Ibid., 410; 447.

772 Brenda L. Moore, To Serve My Country, To Serve My Race: The story of the Only African American Wacs Stationed Overseas during World War II (New York: New York University Press, 1996), 4, also see Table 7 -- “Strength of Women’s Army Corps in Overseas Theaters: 352 Approximately 80 percent of Wacs served stateside, and they account for the majority of the ninety Wacs court-martialed from October 1943 to April 1945.773 The

WAC did not keep separate records of white and black courts-martial, yet two factors suggest that black women made up a greater proportion of these female defendants. First, since African Americans were just 4 percent of the WAC, they should proportionally have accounted for no less than four of the ninety women court-martialed – a number met by the Ft. Devens case alone.774 Second, Army segregation policies ensured that African

American Wacs had far more opportunities to break with Army directives.

Isolated in hospital wards, kitchens, and laundry rooms, black Wacs had little chance to prove their potential, earn promotions, or bolster their morale. Dissatisfaction with menial jobs, especially in comparison to the preferred assignments white Wacs held, led to the incidents at Ft. Devens, Ft. Knox, Ft. Breckenridge, and other posts. In addition, being barred from base facilities limited recreation and socializing venues.

White Wacs could always rendezvous with men in post clubs; this was not always possible for black Wacs, who consequently did not have an appropriate place to entertain

1943-1946, Mattie Treadwell, The Women’s Army Corps, 772-773; Approximately 855 black Wacs of the 6888the Postal Battalion served in Europe. None of these women were court- martialed.

773 Estimated from Table 7 -- “Strength of Women’s Army Corps in Overseas Theaters: 1943- 1946, Treadwell, The Women’s Army Corps, 772-773. “Statistical Report on WAC Cases,” 8 May 1945. RG 165, 390-30-25-1/2, Box 480, Entry 43.

774 No dishonorable discharges were issued under the WAAC (1942-43) because the corps could simply release troublesome Waacs given their semi-civilian status. Treadwell, The Women’s Army Corps, 778. Between mid-1943 to the end of 1945, the Army dishonorably dismissed seventy-one Wacs. See “Enlisted Personnel Separated from the Women’s Army Corps: August 1942-December 1946” for statistics, Treadwell, The Women’s Army Corps, Appendix A, Table 12.

353 male guests. This was especially true for black Wacs officers, whose few numbers did not justify construction of separate clubs for them. In 1944, this circumstance led to the court-martial of three officers at Ft. Des Moines for having men in their quarters. The women testified that they had nowhere else to invite a male visitor due to race restrictions on service clubs, but to no avail. The board found them guilty in accordance with base policy. It fined two of the officers and dishonorably discharged a third.775

At Ft. Clark, Texas, African American Wacs took the lead in protesting the segregation within the base chapel. First, they organized a two-week boycott of all services by the African Americans on base. Then, during service on Easter Sunday of

1944, two female officers and three enlisted Wacs entered the chapel and took seats on the white side of the aisle. Greatly perturbed, the commander ordered an inquiry into the matter. This produced the report, “Church Attendance of Colored People,” a result of the thorough investigating talents of Lieutenant Colonel C.O. Mattfeldt, Chief of the

Intelligence Branch of the Security and Intelligence Division. Mattfeldt concluded that the women had disobeyed the base segregation order to see how far they could maneuver around the new chaplain. With no mention of the segregation as a possible motivation,

Mattfeldt labeled the affair a “conspiracy,” and listed the names of those he considered the ringleaders of the chapel affair. Though armed with this evidence, the commander did

775 The defendants were Captain Francis Futrell, Margaret Curtis, and Gladys E. Pace. The charges stemmed from witness testimonies that, on several occasions, enlisted Navy men stayed overnight in Futrell’s quarters. In an attempt to enlist Thurgood Marshall’s assistance in the court-martial, the women’s civilian attorney, Chas. P. Howard, described the charges as contrived in order to silence the women who had been outspoken in their criticism of segregation in the Army. “Discrimination in the U.S. Armed Forces, 1918-1955,” NAACP Papers, Reel 25, Part 9, Series B, 1940-1955 (Columbus: Ohio State University) microfilm.

354 not bring charges against the Wacs, possibly due to reports of Mrs. Roosevelt’s interest in the matter. Nonetheless, the fact that Army officers considered conspiracy charges over chapel seating signifies the ease with which African Americans, under segregation policies, could find themselves at great odds with military authorities.776

Army records of male soldiers confirm that the Army also disciplined black men at disproportionally higher rates than white soldiers. During William H. Hastie’s two years as the civilian aide to the secretary of war, he ordered an investigation of all the

Section VIII discharges issued thus far during the war.777 Indeed, the mysterious circumstances surrounding these involuntary separations that the military classified as neither honorable nor dishonorable proved a blot on any service record. From December

1941 to March 1945, the Army issued nearly 50,000 Section VIII discharges. More than

10,000, fully 20 percent, went to black men who, at that point, made up less than 7 percent of the Army. To describe the propensity of court-martialing black soldiers, one contemporary journalist quipped, “When whites contracted venereal disease they received medical treatment. Blacks received courts-martial.”778 Historian Jack D. Foner offered a reason for it. Officers, he contended, assumed “guilt regardless of the evidence or because they wanted to ‘set an example’ for other black soldiers.”779

776 Two weeks later a service was held for black service personal. No one attended, much to the ire of their commander, Memorandum, “Church Attendance of Colored Personnel,” 4 May 1944, Headquarters Eighth Service Command, Ft. Clark, Texas; also see letter from Mrs. Roosevelt to Colonel Hobby, 2 May 1944, RG 165, Stack 390, Row 31, Comp. 4, Shelf 03-4, Entry 54, NA.

777 Philip McGuire, He, Too, Spoke for Democracy (New York: Greenwood Press, 1988), 72-73.

778 Ibid.

779 Foner, Black and the Military in American History, 149; The NAACP received hundreds of complaints from soldiers “about unfair assignments and phony charges that led to dishonorable 355 All of the services were adamant about maintaining the status quo and, eager to deter challenges to it, tended to issue particularly severe sentences to black personnel.

Sentences over actions stemming solely from collective action over racial discrimination could be especially harsh. Florence Murray’s The Negro Handbook, published in 1947, listed the most publicized “mutinies” of black service personnel during 1944 and 1945. In the eleven cases she describes, hundreds of black service personnel faced charges of serious violations of military policy, typically of mutinying and rioting.780 Each of these arose out of racially charged circumstances, and most ended in stiff sentences for the black defendants. A brief comparison of three of the “mutinies” on Murray’s list – those at Ft. Devens, Port Chicago, and Freeman Field – illustrate patterns regarding military discipline and black service personnel. Considered together, these cases illustrate how

African Americans appealed to military policy to assert their rights while, at the same time, military officials employed it to hold the bar on social change. An examination of these three collective actions also indicates how gender, race, and rank affected the application of military discipline in the Army and across the services.

In addition to the Ft. Devens strike, two of the most well-known incidents of

World War II were the Port Chicago and the Freeman Field mutinies. All three occurred within an eight-month period, the latter two bookending the Ft. Devens strike. At Port

Chicago, California during the summer of 1944, an ammunition explosion killed 320

discharges.” Juan Williams, Thurgood Marshall: American Revolutionary (New York: Random House, 1998), 125.

780 Murray, “Some Mutinies, Riots, and Other Disturbances,” Negro Handbook 1946-47, 347- 348.

356 people. Among the dead were 250 of the black stevedores who had been loading the incendiary cargo.781 When ordered back to work three weeks later, the enlisted men refused to return to their duties until outfitted with protective gear and assured of changes to the routine. Instead, the Navy prosecuted fifty of them for insubordination. At Freeman

Field, Indiana during the spring of 1945 – and in the wake of the Ft. Devens strike – officer airmen protested an order that barred them from the base’s officer club. Army directives, under which the Army Air Force (AAF) operated, had desegregated post facilities. Nevertheless, non-compliance with this essentially illegal order led to charges against 101 airmen for insubordination.

In all three instances, the commanding officers had balked when they first learned of incoming units of African Americans. The officers’ complaints reveal their low opinions of the African Americans. At Ft. Devens, Colonel Walter Crandall considered black women poorly equipped to handle work beyond that of hospital orderlies. His approach was hands-off, however, as he left virtually all matters concerning the Wacs to their company officers. The Port Chicago naval commander, Captain Nelson Goss, assumed that black men in general carried “a chip on their shoulder, if not, indeed, one on each shoulder.”782 The AAF commander of Freeman Field, Colonel Robert R. Selway, expressed serious doubt that black men had what it took to make either decent officers or proficient pilots.783 Not surprisingly, these unfavorable preconceptions would severely

781 Ibid. Additionally nine white officers who were overseeing the work were also killed in the explosion.

782 Robert Allen, The Port Chicago Mutiny. (New York: Warner Books, 1989), 42-43.

783 Ibid; Milburn, “Conflicting Interest,” 52.

357 detract from these men’s abilities to effectively lead their African American troops and handle their grievances. Indeed, these officers become the focus of their black units’ grievances.

Given their understanding of African Americans, each commander automatically expected trouble. The type of trouble, and how they intended to counter it, differed according to the sex and rank of the personnel in question. Crandall worried about the mixing of black Wacs and soldiers, arguing that, with the black men on base, “I figured we would have a little headache with social problems.”784 At Port Chicago, Goss was certain that black men adopted lazy and defiant attitudes when given the chance.

Furthermore, he suspected that black seamen were “under subversive influence” by race- agitators who fed a tendency to disobey orders and, thereby, resulted in “a high percentage of disciplinary actions against them.”785 Not taking any chances, Goss prepared to keep his contingent of black seamen under tight control. At Freeman Field,

Selway shared similar thoughts, a view collaborated by the airmen’s previously successful attempt to desegregate another base’s officer club and word that the last contingent of airmen were preparing to do likewise at Freeman Field.786 Determined to hold his ground with the black officers, Selway prepared to closely watch the men as he enforced strict segregation on base, including its officers clubs. The fact that this order

784 Colonel Walter Crandall interview, 19 April 1945, “May 1945 Investigation,” 414.

785 Allen, Port Chicago Mutiny, 43.

786 Lt. Coleman A. Young was part of this last group of airmen sent to Freeman Field. He had also been part of the group who, at Midland Army Airfield in Texas, negotiated integration of the officer club. Afro-American Almanac.

358 violated AR 210-10 gave him little pause; he simply designated one club for instructors

(all white) and one for trainees (all black).787

Assignments also differed according to race, gender, and rank. Crandall assigned the black Wacs to orderly work in keeping with their civilian role as service workers. The

Navy, following its tradition of employing black recruits as either stewards or stevedores, assigned the seamen at Port Chicago to the physically demanding and dangerous job of loading munitions cargo. In contrast, the airmen, all officers, were sent to Freeman field to train as pilots. This was arguably the crème of all military assignments for African

Americans, and one that the civil rights movement had fought hard to secure. They would, however, according to military directives for black airmen officers only, be trained separately from white officers.788 Selway took it upon himself to extend that segregation to base clubs. In general, as these cases illustrate, enlisted women received assignments where they could be best avoided and black enlisted men where they could be most closely monitored.

Comparisons of the three cases take a tragic turn when considering the reasons behind each collective action. At Port Chicago, loading munitions was a dangerous job in any event, but one that naval officers compounded through sheer negligence. They did not provide training on the proper handling of the volatile cargo or even basic gear, such

787 Milburn, “Conflicting Interest,” 2.

788 When the Army opened its first Officer Candidate School in 1941, it decided to integrate officer training due to the impracticality of operating a separate program for African Americans. When forced to accept black men as pilots, however, the War Department exempted the Army Air Force from integrating this aspect of its training. MacGregor, Morris J. Integration of the Armed Forces, 1940-1965, (D.C.: Center of Military History of the United States Army, 1981), 46-51.

359 as gloves, to avoid slippage. Furthermore, the officers monitoring the men recklessly pushed them to hasten the pace. (According to Seaman First Class Joe Small, officers took bets on whose group loaded faster.789) On July 17, 1944, an accident led to a thunderous explosion that destroyed the harbor, rocked the nearest town of Port Chicago, and left over 300 dead.790 The Navy responded by sending the white officers home on survivors’ leave and the black seamen to a nearby port. Within weeks, the latter found themselves marching to another shipyard to once again load ammunition. With the explosion on their minds and the Navy’s neglect to train or outfit them properly, the men refused to board the ships.791

The seamen’s life-threatening circumstances of loading ordnance greatly differs from the Wacs’ cleaning duties, though the sequence of events between the two enlisted work stoppages otherwise compare. In both instances, company officers initially ignored their troops’ grievances until a specific event brought matters to a head. At Ft. Devens, the event was the announcement of further segregation of orderlies, this time between

Wacs and civilians. At Port Chicago, it was the explosion and, more precisely, the subsequent refusal of the Navy to provide a reasonably safe work environment. The Wacs

789 Accounts differ on whether betting among the officers took place. The majority of the other seamen did not corroborate Small’s charge. Small, however, may have been in closer hearing distance than the others. The issue remains an open question. Allen, The Port Chicago Mutiny; Juan Williams described Thurgood Marshall as furious over the betting. Juan Williams, Thurgood Marshall: American Revolutionary (New York: Random House, 1998), 128-129.

790 So great was the blast that the foundations of buildings miles away shook with catastrophic consequences. Injuries were extensive. One off-duty seventeen-year-old lost his eyesight to flying shards of glass. Allen, the Port Chicago Mutiny, 148.

791 The actual mutiny took place as the men were on their way to Mare Island. The Port Chicago Mutiny is often referred to as the Mare Island Mutiny.

360 and the seaman expressed their grievances to their immediate officers. Only after their officers dismissed their concerns did they resort to work stoppages. This action immediately alerted their respective military commands of problems among their enlisted black members. In both cases, the highest-ranking officer of each command, Major

General Sherman Miles of the First Service Command and Admiral Carleton Wright of the Twelfth Naval District, quickly intervened. Initially, each personally met with those involved in the work stoppage to explain the illegitimacy of the action, issue the ultimatum of a court-martial, and offer a final opportunity to return to duty. Wright added, with effective results, the possibility of a firing squad for those convicted. Prior to his statement, the seamen had considered a court-martial a safer bet than risking their lives loading ammunition, but Wright’s threat suddenly evened the odds of survival. Of the original 258 striking seamen, 50 maintained the strike.792 At Ft. Devens, where the work was not life-threatening, just six of the fifty-four original Wacs on strike continued the action. In both cases, the defendants expressed a desire to work, though not under the same conditions.

The airmen’s case compares to the Ft. Devens and Port Chicago mutinies in its collective nature and resistance to racial discrimination, yet the Tuskegee men’s status as officers marked important differences. Whereas the enlisted personnel reacted more or less spontaneously after a specific work-related incident, the officer airmen had planned a coordinated action to protest an illegal order regarding their recreational facilities.

792 Goss also tried the men who had at first joined the strike and then returned to work. They stood before a summary court-martial. They lost three months’ pay and earned a bad conduct discharge. Allen, the Port Chicago Mutiny, 127.

361 Whereas the enlisted personnel had little credible evidence of discrimination to stand on beyond undocumented recruiters’ promises of equal treatment with whites, the officers could refer to AR 210-10, which clearly stipulated that base facilities were not to be segregated.

Obviously, the black officers were not buying Selway’s attempt to get around the directive by opening another club for trainee officers, and in early April 1945, they launched their plan in earnest.793 Organizing themselves in small groups, they took turns walking into the officers club on appointed days. When ordered to leave, they peacefully complied, only to be replaced by another group who repeated the pattern. Not to be outdone, Selway countered by ordering all of his officers to sign his new policy recognizing the two clubs. Every white officer complied, though only a handful of black officers did, and usually after crossing out the most offensive terms of the agreement and adding their comments. Meanwhile, Selway consulted his superior, General Frank

Hunter, who admitted that he would “be delighted for [the black airmen] to commit enough actions … so I can court-martial some of them.”794 The airman readily accommodated. Three times, they refused Selway’s order to sign the document. At this point, Selway and Hunter felt confident that they had enough evidence to charge the men for insubordination. On April 11, 1945, Selway ordered the arrest of the 101 airmen at

Freeman Field.

793 The airmen first put their plan into action on 10 March 1945, though without the full contingent who did not arrive until April 5. Coincidentally, 10 March was the also the day General Sherman Miles met with the Ft. Devens Wacs.

794 Allen, the Port Chicago Mutiny,” 55.

362 The defense strategy in each case differed greatly. The Port Chicago seamen’s

Navy lawyer, Lt. Gerald E. Veltmann, insisted that all fifty male defendants speak on their own behalf in order to establish their good character and to validate their concerns for refusing to board the ship. This approach drastically contrasted to the Ft. Devens

Wacs’ civilian lawyer, Julian Rainey, who five months later would present his clients as confused and unaware of what they were doing. Veltmann backed the seamen’s claims with official evidence. For instance, when the defendants claimed that fear played a role in their decision to strike, Veltmann produced a Navy psychiatrist to lend clarity to his clients’ state of mind.795 Rainey would portray his female clients as emotionally immature; Veltmann presented his male clients as wholly competent. In fact, Veltmann needed to prove that his clients reacted as reasonably as anyone else (namely, white men) would have under the same circumstances. Rainey would also follow this line of reasoning. With female clients, however, he hoped to tap into notions that women under stress were naturally prone to confusion and hysterics. Veltmann, of course, could not have called into question his clients’ psychological fitness without directly supporting racist notions that black men lacked the purported mental strengths and courage of white men.

The Port Chicago court-martial ended in a guilty verdict, as would the Ft. Devens court-martial and most all others of African Americans before and during World War II.

Upon hearing the judgment, Thurgood Marshall expressed astonishment. He had not represented the men during the court-martial, but had witnessed the last days of the trial

795 Ibid., 118.

363 and was convinced that “there is no evidence of mutiny.”796 Afterwards, he took over the

Port Chicago appeal as he would the appeal of the Ft. Devens Wacs and others obviously based on racial prejudice. So rife were guilty verdicts in such cases that Marshall, his small team of lawyers, and the NAACP’s administrative leadership worked simultaneously on dozens of cases of military discipline. Among these were several highly publicized incidents involving multiple defendants, two which the military attached highly charged language: the Hawaii Mutiny (July 1944), the Camp Claiborne

Riot (August 1944), the Guam Disorders (December 1944), and the Seabee Hunger Strike

(March 1945), the last beginning just days before the Wac strike at Ft. Devens.797

The black press naturally questioned the judicial integrity of mass trials for

African Americans and contested the system’s reported impartiality. The Pittsburgh

Courier noted, “Obviously all these men could not have been equally guilty and yet they were tried together.”798 Reacting specifically to the Port Chicago and another collective court-martial in Hawaii, a commentary in The Chicago Defender all but directly labeled such mass trials a sham. By defining “mutiny” as “a convenient word” for military authorities to prosecute African Americans, it put the term in perspective for its readers.

Mutiny was, the author insisted, “a refusal to bear the heavy, unjust load placed on the

796 Ibid., 128-129.

797 The NAACP also handled a review of fifteen Seabees’ discharges from 1943. After soliciting their comments about their treatment and assuring them that they could speak freely, the Navy dishonorably discharged them. It used their complaints as evidence of their undesirability. Murray, Negro Handbook 1946-47, 354-355.

798 “The Mass Trials,” The Pittsburgh Courier, 10 March 1945.

364 Negro’s back.”799 If military officials found these en masse trials a fair and efficient method to root out mutinous behavior, African Americans regarded them as tools of collective punishment to stifle dissent and “discredit the Negro race.”800 The verdicts of eight of the most prominent race-based courts-martial in 1944 and 1945 lend compelling evidence to the claim. In these cases alone, the military tried over 350 black service personnel and judged all but a handful guilty.801

By war’s end, the Army was getting caught up in its own regulations that it had so carefully conceived to squeeze an appearance of equality out of a policy of segregation.

The Freeman Field Mutiny incident represents one such case. The airmen correctly argued that they had disobeyed an order that was illegal according to Army policy.

Indeed, the War Department’s own AR 210-10, usually easily modified to maintain segregation as desired, had weakened its case against the airmen. As congressmen made inquiries into the case and publicity around it grew, the Army sought, as historian Anthon

Milburn describes, “a face-saving way out of a bad situation.”802 Insisting that Selway’s actions were an understandable interpretation of the rules, the War Department dropped

799 “The ‘Work-But-Not-Fight’ Policy,” The Chicago Defender, 10 Feb 1945.

800 “The Mass Trials,” The Pittsburgh Courier, 10 March 1945, National Edition, (Columbus: Ohio State University) microfilm.

801 Murray, Negro Handbook 1946-47, 347-355.

802 Milburn, “Conflicting Interest,” 68.

365 the mutiny charges. It also replaced Selway with a black officer, Colonel Benjamin O.

Davis, Jr., a West Point graduate and the son of the first African American general.803

Officer ranking did not guarantee courtroom victories, but it could give commissioned officers an advantage over enlisted personnel. Due to their rank, officers were expected to be experts on military regulations in order to be well aware of their responsibilities and the legal initiatives at their disposal. African American officers occasionally used this knowledge to confront segregation policies that inhibited their full rights as commissioned personnel. At Freeman Field, the airmen relied on military policies to desegregate an officer club. In Europe, Captain Charity Adams employed military policies to fend off a racist indictment on her character and career after a confrontation with a general. The incident began when the white officer offered to send

Adams, commander of the 6888th Postal Battalion and former Des Moines black Wac senior officer, “a white first lieutenant to her unit to show you how to run this unit.”

Mustering all the patience she had, Adams’ issued a firm retort: “Over my dead body.”

Soon afterwards, she learned that the general was preparing charges against her. Aware that that she had shown disrespect to an officer that could cost her command, Adams poured over Army regulations with other officers to consider her options. It was one of her sergeants, however, who informed her of a recent European Command directive that provided the context of a counter-charge. Adams contended that the general had violated an order to avoid “language that stressed racial segregation so that our allies would not

803 2LT Roger C. Terry suffered the lone conviction of the court-martial for pushing a (white) soldier. He received a fine of totally $150, a penalty he not only did not pay, but reportedly wore as a badge of pride, Florence Murray, Negro Handbook 1945-47, 68.

366 suspect disharmony among American troops.” It was a stretch on her part, but it worked.

The general dropped his charges, and she dropped hers.804 African American officers could not assume victory in such gambles, but they could hope to at least incrementally push the slim advantages that military regulations might offer through their overall language of equal treatment.

Enlisted men and women had fewer opportunities to effect a change in their situation. This was, in part, because they had to work through a chain of command that typically included a rung of junior officers unwilling to manage racial complaints. The failure of officers, white and black, to address their black troop’s grievances, whether due to personal prejudices or a reluctance to put their careers on the line, limited the options of their enlisted subordinates. Many, therefore, took matters into their own hands, sometimes with violent results. At Camp Lawton, Washington, black soldiers, already resentful over their officers’ alleged better treatment of Italian prisoners of war, invaded the prisoners’ barracks one August evening in 1944. Dozens beat and even stabbed the men. The terror of the night left several Italians permanently handicapped and one dead.805 After an obscenely bungled investigation, the Army charged forty-three black soldiers and convicted twenty eight – though apparently not the men guilty of the crimes.

(A review of the evidence overturned the verdicts, though not until 2007.)806 Most

804 Charity Adams Earley, One Women’s Army: A Black Officer Remembers the WAC, (College Station, TX: Texas A&M University Press, 1989), 160-161.

805 Murray, “The Fort Lawton Anti-Italian Riot,” Negro Handbook 1946-47, 353.

806 More rumors than facts surrounded the Ft. Lawton riot, including whether the death of the Italian POW, found hanging from a tree, was murder or suicide. Journalist Jake Hamann investigated the incident, and found egregious errors in the handling of the case. These included crime scenes left open before properly examined, the Italian POWs and the black soldiers quickly 367 actions, however, were designed as passive resistance efforts to draw peaceful attention to their plight and effect reasonable changes to their situation. Recalling the “appalling” work conditions of loading ammunition at Port Chicago, former stevedore Joe Small recounted decades later, “That’s what we were trying to get out of. We had no way to get out of it."807

Nevertheless, African American service personnel involved in collective actions handed their critics reasons to rail against their general character and loyalty to the nation. Suggestions of “mutiny” and “riot” quickly stained collective actions as subversive. Therefore, no matter how peaceful actions were or how well-designed or clear their intentions to call attention to a problem rather than violate military laws, they invited charges of subversive collaboration. The risks for taking part were therefore substantial. The fifty Port Chicago seamen received hard labor prison terms ranging from eight to fifteen years to be followed by dishonorable discharges. As Robert Allen, author of the Port Chicago Mutiny, asserts, the Navy’s “mutiny trial had been a warning to other dissident servicemen.”808

transferred before properly questioned, and the prosecutor, Leon Jaworski, allowed to withhold crucial evidence from the defense attorney. The Army overturned their sentences in 2007. On American Soil: How Justice Became a Casualty of World War II (Chapel Hill, Algonquin Books, 2005); Rory Marshall, “Army Tosses Out Convictions of black Soldiers in 1944 death,” Arkansas Democrat Gazette, 28 October 2007, 5A.

807 Richard L. Allen, The Port Chicago Mutiny, 139.

808 Ibid., 133, 119. Thurgood Marshall took over as the seamen’s attorney and as a result of his efforts, he was able to secure a probational release of forty-seven of the men from prison. The last would not leave prison until January 1946.

368 Given the threat that black resistance posed against the social order in the military and in civil society, officials used harsh sentences as a tool to deter dissent. The Army court-martial following the Camp Claiborne Riot in Louisiana sentenced eleven soldiers to nine years, one to life, and another to death.809 The violent racial confrontation at

Brookley Field, Alabama led to the confinement of nine black privates who received between two and twenty-five years. (Each incident began after false rumors that a black soldier raped a white woman, and neither resulted in charges against any of the whites involved.) The board trying the Mabry Field Mutiny in Florida, a strike by five black privates protesting discriminatory work assignments, issued between two and fifteen year sentences.810 On March 10, the day General Miles addressed the Ft. Devens Wacs, an infantryman from Baltimore received a life sentence for allegedly disobeying and striking an officer at Camp Livingston, Louisiana.811

In comparison, the Ft. Devens Wacs’ sentence of a year of hard labor and a dishonorable discharge seemed to be an extraordinarily mild sentence. In fact, this was the harshest sentence the Army could impose on Wacs, and even this was subject to automatic mollification by a unique clause for WAC court-martial sentences. “In cases where sentences included confinement and discharge,” read a War Department directive of June 1944, “confinement should be remitted and the discharge effected.”812

809 The NAACP’s intercession led to the commutation of the death sentence to forty years. See “Some Mutinies, Riots, and Other Disturbances in Murray, Negro Handbook 1946-47, 347-356.

810 Mabry Mutiny, Murray, Negro Handbook 1946-47, 351-351.

811 “Threatens White Officer; Gets Life,” Chicago Defender, 10 March 1945.

812 “Memorandum, Lt. Col. Verne Sparks, J.A.G.D., Acting Service Command Judge Advocate to Col. Guy M. Kinman regarding an upcoming conference on the issue of “Disciplinary Action of 369 Consequently, all sentences of more than thirty days came with the understanding, at least among War Department officers, that the incarceration aspect would either be disapproved on review or dropped in favor of immediate discharge. The directive was marked confidential, however, so civilians and most military personnel were unaware of this policy.

Consequently, the Ft. Devens sentence of the four Wacs to prison reveals the practical concerns of the WAC over harsh sentences for any of its members. Because it was desperately short of recruits, the WAC was anxious to avoid any scandal that would adversely affect their efforts. Without question, news of Wacs heading to prison over military policy violations would be public relations disasters. Additionally, the WAC simply did not have facilities to incarcerate women long-term for non-civil law violations, and the Army had no intention of constructing such facilities for a corps it considered a temporary addition to its forces. Furthermore, and in contrast to the Army and other services, the WAC had little need to make examples of its troops who violated policy. Not only was the corps slated to end six months after the war, but female convicts were a rarity, in the military and out. Of the 27,771 civilian felony convictions in 1943, women accounted for just 1,766 of them.813 Therefore, while race often superseded other

commissioned and enlisted members of the Women’s Army Corps,” 10 March 1944; RG 165, 390-31-4.3, Box 49, Entry 54, NA; Also see, “Subject: Confinement and Punishment of Members of the Women’s Army Corps,” Robert H. Dunlop, Brigadier General, Acting Adjutant General, War Department, 1 June 1944, RG 165, 390/30/25, Box 480, Entry 43, NA. (To the Adjutant General’s Office advised commanding generals, including Miles’ First Service Command); “Statistical Report on WAC Cases,” 8 May 1945. RG 165, 390-30-25-1/2, Box 480, Entry 43, NA.

813 This number was almost evenly divided between white and black women. At just 10 percent of the population, black women were proportionally over-represented. Murray, Negro Handbook 1946-47, 165. 370 considerations in determining the guilt of a Wac, gender factored heavily into the sentencing.

In relation to other disciplinary hearings of World War II, the Ft. Devens incident reveals that courts-martial were at least as much about maintaining the social order as they were about keeping order in the ranks. Certainly, many of the officers who desired more equitable conditions between black and white troops also assumed that mixing them would cause serious disruptions to the mission. Others took a personal interest in resisting change. Regardless of the reasons, military disciplinary policies, as outgrowths of civilian laws and customs, provided a framework to enforce the status quo and penalize those who attempted to challenge it. Military and civilian authorities, whether fiercely protective of their privileges or simply fearful of change, helped reinforce them.

Throughout World War II, the mainstream press, government officials, and other authorities tagged incidents involving African American service personnel as “mutinous” and “riotous” behavior. This language naturally focused the public’s attention on black offenses rather than on the discriminatory conditions that gave rise to these actions.

Consequently, the language erected thick barriers between black and white discussions about these cases. Many whites, unaware of the defendants’ predicaments, found it incomprehensible that any American would foment collective insubordination in a time of war, and this bewilderment fed into already hardened notions of unbridgeable cultural gaps. Indeed, a 1943 poll found that a full 90 percent of whites preferred a segregated military, convinced that people worked best with those of their own race.814 Persistent

814 Klinkner, Unsteady March, 179. 371 reports of black servicepersons rioting, mutinying, and disobeying long-established military customs confirmed white fears that blacks were more interested in promoting their interests than those of their country. Certainly, dockets of all-black defendants involved in collective actions seemingly demonstrated a dangerous unity among African

Americans in this endeavor.

Furthermore, a lengthy record of courts-martials, guilty verdicts, and stiff sentences validated white suspicions of an unwillingness, if not incapability, of African

Americans to heed basic standards of military conduct. Therefore, while racism was not a permissible defense, it inevitably underpinned prosecutors’ arguments that inferred commonly accepted African American deficiencies. At the same time, the emphasis on black wrong-doing dimmed the spotlight on the defendants’ white officers and how these personnel may have contributed to the incidents at the center of each case. Between the mainstream media focus on black insubordination and the War Department’s refusal to openly criticize its officers over racial issues, white Americans could easily assume that white officers took understandable actions against impetuous black service personnel prone to laziness, insubordination, or both.

Invariably, the high volume of military disciplinary reports and civilian disturbances involving African Americans combined with the language used to describe them added to white fears of the threat African Americans posed to society. Collective acts, in particular, typically labeled as “mutinies,” “riots,” and “conspiracies,” were chillingly unnerving reminders of a real, if intangible, menace these provocateurs seemed

372 to be for the nation. Federal investigations into such activities reinforced these fears while the heavy surveillance of African Americans as potential agitators assured the direction of these investigations. Certainly, detecting suspicious activity also warranted the work agents put into their quarry.

A 1945 Army Service Forces’ confidential report entitled “Racial Situation in the

United States” reflected contemporary white concerns. Many feared that fewer constraints on black Americans would inevitably lead to breakdown in the social order.

The report therefore focused on the black crime rate, though interpreting even positive news as ominous. Noting that “military individual violence declined sharply,” it then stressed that “disturbances on trains by Negro soldiers continued.” Notwithstanding the presumed decline in black violence, too, and the interracial context of such disturbances, crime was put squarely on black shoulders. The report also found it curious that “Negro overseas veterans who have applied for employment at industrial plants during the last two weeks sought guard jobs enabling them to handle firearms.” The authors, however, assured officials that authorities were “attempt[ing] to determine the possible significance of this action.” The report also addressed concerns over African American associations with communist organizations, noting that “Communists continued their agitation for anti-discrimination legislation in an effort to attract Negroes.”815 The leap from black subversive to Communist agitator seemed very close indeed as commentator Bill

Cunningham lamented in The Boston Herald. Critiquing the Ft. Devens Wacs’

815 “Racial Situation in the United States,” 16-30 June 1945, Army Service Forces, Office of the Commanding General, Washington, RG 165, Stack 390, Row 31, Comp 4, Shelf 03-4, Box 49, Entry 54, Folder 291.2, NA.

373 supporters, he asserted that despite the women’s insubordination, they claimed racial discrimination. Cunningham tagged this defense as “the familiar anti-unity red rag.”816

White Americans would have to be vigilant.

Black citizens grew increasingly frustrated and impatient with whites who ignored the most obvious racism by tolerating injustice. The Port Chicago, Ft. Devens, and

Freeman Field cases alone featured over four hundred African Americans who had put themselves on the line to bring attention to the inequities of segregation. Despite the publicity of these and other incidents in the white press that at the very least indicated problems with segregation, genuine progress remained far too sluggish.817 Feature editorialist Horace R. Cayton of The Pittsburgh Courier questioned the reasons behind white America’s tolerance of racial discrimination:

Why hasn’t the treatment of the Negro outraged the American sense of decency

and fair play? … It is not alone because people don’t know, although much is kept

from them. All Americans sense vaguely these injustices, but too many, even

those who consider themselves progressive, are afraid to act…. Americans, too,

like the present German population, will cry that they had to yield to force and

custom. After all, they will say, it was the only thing they could do to hold their

jobs so they could get a little white house with a green lawn for their children, 818

816 Bill Cunningham, “Wac Decision Unity Threat: Equality Means Acceptance of Equal Responsibility,” The Boston Herald, 4 April 1945.

817 The breakdown of the original number of men and women subject to courts-martial follows: 54 Wacs at Ft. Devens, over 258 seamen at Port Chicago, and101 Airmen at Freeman Field.

818 Horace R. Cayton, “War Guilt,” The Pittsburgh Courier, 17 March 1945.

374 Mainstream Americans may have publically pinned their reluctance for racial integration on fears for their safety and unbridgeable cultural gaps, yet African

Americans suspected it was based on protecting white economic, social, and political privileges. Insisting on racial equality, after all, would lead to greater competition for jobs, housing, education programs, and elected public offices. This turn of events would severely undermine the nearly exclusive flow of citizen privileges to white Americans, primarily to white men. Consistent reports of courts-martial of African Americans helped avoid this conversation by diverting discussions of race from issues of white privilege to issues of white defense of the democratic system. Ironically, the majority of African

Americans were not interested in subverting the democratic system, but in strengthening it by fully sharing in its benefits and obligations as equal citizens.

The Ft. Devens strike was not a subversive measure any more than the Port

Chicago and the Freeman Field actions were mutinies or the Mabry Field and Claiborne incidents were riots. The black Wacs at Ft. Devens and elsewhere during World War II accepted that they had enlisted in a segregated force when they took their oaths to serve.

They were not demanding integration, therefore, but fair access to assignments. They were not even insisting on the same rights as male soldiers, but of white Wacs.

Consequently, the Ft. Devens strike was not driven by mutinous behavior, but by the same democratic aspirations that had propelled Americans into two world wars and induced the military to increase its ranks of black men and open them to women. The Ft.

Devens Wacs had vowed to aid this mission. As African Americans, however, that meant fighting the two wars for democracy.

375 Morrison, Young, Murphy, and Green had expected Ft. Devens to be a stage to prove their value to the country, not a battleground for democracy. When it proved the latter, they accepted the challenge and mounted an offense with one of the few weapons they had at their disposal, a collective strike action. That was why the families and communities of Alice Young, Anna Morrison, Mary Green, and Johnnie Murphy expressed such enormous pride in these same women that the Army found inordinately disruptive to its mission.

376 Chapter 9. Dissemblance through Military Protocol

“If the injustice done in the army by those who hide behind the word ‘discipline’ is ever totaled, it will make the national debt look like a chump.” 819 “Easy Way Out.” 820

Within a matter of weeks, the Ft. Devens black Wac strike of 1945 had spiraled out of the control of the military parties involved: The Army was facing an appeal of the controversial court-martial verdict in full view of the public; the defendants, Privates

Mary Green, Alice Young, Anna Morrison, and Johnnie Murphy, were facing prison-time and dishonorable discharges; and other personnel at Ft. Devens with ties to the black orderlies were confronted with uncomfortable questions over the women’s treatment. By late March, all three parties were seeking ways out of the affair, and in April, they would find them. Solutions varied, yet all required demonstrated adherence to military policies, and, in the Ft. Devens case, dissemblance behind military protocol.

Concealing personal views and institutional motivations was absolutely essential for all military parties associated with the Ft. Devens case. It could not be otherwise given Army policies that both prohibited and denied racial discrimination in its forces while accepting gender differences. These policies rendered invalid genuine and open

819 “Court Martial of Four Voided,” Times-Picayune. New Orleans, Louisiana, 4 April 1945, 19, (America’s Historical Newspapers, accessed through Ohio State University Library, infoweb.newsbank,com.)

820 “Easy Way Out,” Time, 16 April 1945, 24.

377 debate of the case’s core issue: discrimination against personnel who were black and female. Views and motivations among service personnel that did not neatly fit into the discussion that the military wanted to have were best hidden or, better yet, disguised as consistent with accepted Army practices. After all, according to the Army, its policies and disciplinary protocols assured uniform, fair, and impartial treatment for all personnel.

In reality, however, racial and gender policies and military protocol could just as easily provide a convenient cloak to conceal what could not be said. This was the case at Ft.

Devens and thus the context in which the War Department, the Wacs on trial, and the other military personnel involved in the strike struggled to negotiate in an attempt to put the strike behind them.

Various purposes among the three parties ensured different forms of subterfuge.

The War Department insisted on dissembling to encourage conformity even at the expense of truth. The black Wacs resorted to “a culture of dissemblance,” a strategy black women traditionally adopted for survival. Other military personnel at Ft. Devens found dissembling a convenient tool to explain the inequitable treatment of black and white

Wacs, excuse personal biases, and justify their actions – or, more commonly, inaction in regards to the enlisted black orderlies’ complaints. Regardless of the purpose or application, all involved hid the full truth of their thoughts and motivations behind military policies and protocol.

The extraordinary publicity of the Ft. Devens strike forced the Army to conduct its usual disciplinary measures – courts-martial, reviews, appeals, and investigations – under the public’s watchful eyes and probing questions about segregation. To stem the debate and quell further questions regarding its treatment of the black Wac orderlies, the 378 War Department stepped in to negotiate a swift conclusion to the case. It would present its efforts as fully grounded in standard procedures that were designed to secure justice for defendants and uncover the reasons behind actions. This was pretense. Eager to avoid a messy public appeal, the War Department prowled for regulations to dismiss the case without injury to its authority or concessions that race may have been a factor after all.

Murphy, Green, Young, and Morrison also wanted out of the controversy. Their attempts to gain training and assignment parity with white Wacs had badly misfired.

Though they had exposed the inequities of their assignments – 75 percent of black vs. 12 percent of white Wacs worked as orderlies at Ft. Devens – they had not secured personal justice. Instead, much of society, including their lawyer, ridiculed them as emotionally and mentally deficient black women with unrealistic views of their capabilities. The resulting frustration, psychological anguish, and denigration of their characters could not have been new experiences for the four or for other African American women in the

1940s.

As black, female, and, for most, of low economic standing, African American women were subject to multiple and overlapping forms of subordination. Invariably, the resulting negative images these produced trumped the reality of their experiences and, as the Ft. Devens case demonstrates, the truth of their claims. If black women could not physically escape the degrading treatment of a hostile society, however, they could mentally separate themselves from these assaults on their character. Historian Darlene

Clark Heine has defined this strategy, which black women have so commonly employed to this purpose, as “a culture of dissemblance.” As manifested in the aftermath of the Ft.

Devens incident, the “culture of dissemblance” helps explain why Morrison, Young, 379 Murphy, and Green would soon tell the Army what it wanted to hear rather than what they believed to be the truth. They knew their claims of discrimination were sound, but after the trial, they would keep much of that to themselves.

Other Americans were also practiced in the art of dissembling, though from relatively more privileged standpoints. Most of the military personnel involved in the case expressed their dismay with the enlisted orderlies’ strike. This included the few who realized that the women’s race and sex doubly excluded them from various work sites

(such as at Lovell Hospital North) and training programs (including the motor pool). Of course, this left a thin sliver of mostly undesirable assignments for black Wacs, yet civilian parallels that typically limited black women’s roles to menial labor made this situation an acceptable norm. Consequently, many of the military personnel who worked with the black Wac orderlies at Ft. Devens dismissed the women’s grievances as unwarranted. As evidence, they pointed to black Wacs’ overall poor Army General

Classification Test (AGCT) scores and to a supposed inclination toward unconstrained emotional and improper behavior. Focusing on the stereotypes of black women helped obscure personal biases that accepted the relegation of black Wacs to menial labor.

With an appeal looming, the War Department’s Assistant Judge Advocate,

Colonel William J. Rounds, sought to bring closure to the case. By the end of March, he was in urgent consultation with Major General Sherman Miles, the commander of the

First Service Command. Reviewing the options, Rounds referred Miles to the Manual for

Courts-Martial, specifically to Article of War 8: “When any such commander is the accuser or the prosecutor of the person or persons to be tried, the court shall be appointed

380 by superior competent authority.”821 Because Miles was the accusing officer, Rounds argued, he had not been in a position to convene the original court-martial. On this basis,

Rounds found reason for the Army to nullify the verdict against the Wacs and dismiss the case.

Miles was hard-pressed to hold back his irritation. He immediately replied to

Rounds, reiterating that he had intervened only after his subordinates had “failed to break, what was, a mutiny.” Under the circumstances, he had a responsibility as the senior officer to immediately resolve the matter. Also citing from the courts-martial manual, Miles asserted his right to review the case: “Action by a commander which is merely official and in the strict line of his duty cannot be regarded as sufficient to disqualify him.”822 Miles was certainly acting in “line of his duty” when he broke the strike action as he knew of no one else in his command who could do the job.

Furthermore, he stated that once he handed the case to his Judge Advocate, he had not been part of the proceedings as the accuser or as the prosecutor. Again, Miles referred to the Manual for Courts-Martial: “An accuser either originates the charge or adopts and becomes responsible for it; a prosecutor proposes or undertakes to have it tried and proved.”823

821 Rounds to General Miles, Hq ASF, JAGO, Washington, D.C., 31 March 1945, Correspondence between Rounds and Miles part of “General Court-martial case of U.S. v. Young, et al (CM 278502),” 19-20 March 1945, Ft. Devens, MA, Department of the Army, U.S. Army Judiciary; also see A Manual for Courts-Martial: U. S. Army (Corrected to April 20, 1943), Washington D.C.: United States Government Printing Office, 1943, 204 -205.

822 Ibid., crrespondence between Rounds and Miles.

823 Ibid.

381 Obviously, the general was extremely uncomfortable using what he considered a technicality to dispose of the controversial case. In his correspondence with Rounds, he strongly defended his actions before diplomatically adding that he felt “constrained to request advice on the matter in order that the provisions of Article of War 8 may be satisfied.”824 This was hardly the sentiment of one genuinely seeking advice. Clearly the whole procedure was distasteful to the straight-talking general.

Rounds responded by breaking down the terms “accuser” and “prosecutor.” He argued that Miles had been the “prime mover … in the very transaction which forms the basis of the charges” and therefore qualified as the accuser. “Nowhere have we found a suggestion that an officer can play so vital a part in the origination of the charges and still sit in judgment upon them.”825 Rounds therefore suggested that further proceedings against Morrison, Green, and Young were “legally insufficient,” and recommended that

Miles declare the defendants’ sentences null and void.”826 In addition, he endorsed setting aside Murphy’s case, predicated on disobeying an order by Lt. Victoria Lawson rather than Miles, “in the interest of uniformity.”827 By April 1, 1945, Round’s advice would be in Miles’ hands.

Both arguments held legal sway, but the War Department’s naturally carried more weight. High ranking civilian officials, civil rights activists, newspaper reporters, and the

824 Ibid.

825 Ibid. Rounds concluded that because Miles was intricately involved in the charges, his standing as the reviewing authority during the appeal would be a clear-cut conflict of interest.

826 Ibid.

827 Ibid. Murphy’s case was not entirely dropped due to her earlier conviction for insubordination.

382 thousands of citizens who were following the case would ultimately hold Secretary of

War Stimson, not Miles, responsible for the appeal no matter the outcome. Stimson was no stranger to controversy, but he obviously saw no reason to court it in this case. There was little point in making an example of the Wac defendants when their corps was slated to dissolve the following year. Article 8 fit the circumstances, made judicial sense, and should appease critics of the verdict as the dismissal would lead to the release of the four

Wacs. As Miles knew, however, invoking Article 8 provided the War Department the loophole it sought to avoid further prosecution of the provocative case. Had civil rights groups, the press, and various notables not generated national fanfare over the incident, the War Department would not have questioned the general’s right to take the case through the appeal process. Miles also knew that he had no choice but to concede to higher authority. On April 2, he signed the order revoking the sentence. Young,

Morrison, Green, and Murphy learned of the decision the following day and on April 4 returned to duty.828

The mainstream press generally expressed displeasure with the dismissal, contending that it sent the message that black Americans could expect special treatment.

Time magazine’s update on the case, entitled, “Easy Way Out,” typified the reaction. It claimed that an anxious War Department had retreated from the case in order to “hold the lid on its simmering race problems.”829 The commentator for The Christian Science

Monitor, R.H. Markham, inferred a similar retreat by the Army. The trial had been fair,

828 Ibid. Morrison, interview, 11 April 1945.

829 “Easy Way Out,” Time, 16 April 1945, 4.

383 he asserted, so the “War Department obviously bent backward in an effort to find a technicality.”830 The Boston Herald shared this view. In a scathing indictment of civil rights leaders entitled, “Equality Means Acceptance of Equal Responsibility,” investigative journalist Bill Cunningham argued that the defendants had a good lawyer, black representatives on the panel, and the opportunity to present their case, and yet their supporters still managed to force the military to back down “on a technicality as transparent as fishnet.”831 In this manner, much of the mainstream press accused black leaders of maneuvering a dismissal rather than abiding by the standard rules and procedures under which white personnel operated.

The black press agreed that the Army had stretched military policies in order to extract themselves from the case. The New York Post reported the view of Julian Rainey, the Wacs’ defense attorney during their court-martial, who contended that the Army dismissed the case because it could not win.832 Most, however, attributed the Army’s action to its interest in avoiding further adverse publicity of the strike. The Boston

Chronicle’s Marty Richardson described the dismissal as a blow to the cause of integration because the Ft. Devens Wacs had presented the movement with a strong case.

On the other hand, Richardson also recognized the dismissal as a minor victory for

830 R.H. Markham, “Case of the Negro Wac: An Analysis of the Facts and the Implications, The Christian Science Monitor, 5 May 1945, “Discrimination in the U.S. Armed Forces, 1918-1955,” NAACP Papers, Reel 19, Part 9, Series B, 1940-1955 (Columbus: Ohio State University) microfilm.

831 Ibid., Bill Cunningham, “WAC Decision Unity Threat: Equality Means Acceptance of Equal Responsibility,” The Boston Herald, 5 April 1945.

832 Ibid., Paul Sann, “Ask Probe of Colonel in Wac Case,” New York Post, 4 April 1945.

384 African Americans because the Army at least had budged, and budged in their direction.

It was a promising sign, especially in connection with a similar action by the Navy the day before. Reconsidering a controversial 1943 case in which it had dishonorably discharged fourteen black seamen, the Navy reversed its decision and upgraded the discharges to honorable.833 The Philadelphia Afro-American cautiously suggested that these moves “may herald a new approach to colored troops on the part of our high command.”834 In general, the black press expressed great relief that the women were free.

A large banner headline extending across The Philadelphia Afro-American announced, “4

Wacs Cleared.” 835 Another boasted, “History has been made – encouraging history at that.”836

The euphoria quickly dissipated as commentators of both presses arrived at starkly different lessons from the episode. “Since the War Department has handled this case with such meticulous care,” Markham, of the Christian Science Monitor, advised civil rights leaders, “it behooves the national Negro Organizations to make every effort

833 In 1943, the black enlisted men’s officer solicited their opinions of their duties in the Navy. They gave him their unvarnished opinions and were dishonorably discharged for their candor. Florence Murray, The Negro Handbook, 1946-47 (New York: Current Books, Inc., 1947), 354- 355. Also see “The Wacs and the Seabees,” The Afro-American, 14 April 1945, 4.

834 “Devens Colonel’s Removal Sought” The Philadelphia Afro-American, 21 April 1945. (Interlibrary Loan, Ohio State University, Columbus, Ohio).

835 “4 Wacs Cleared,” The Philadelphia Afro-American, 7 April 1945. (Interlibrary Loan, Ohio State University, Columbus, Ohio).

836 “Demand Probe of WAC Case,” Unknown source and date, probably The Afro-American. (Clipping from Alice Young’s scrapbook, received from Stacie Porter.)

385 toward preventing a repetition of such incidents.”837 The New Orleans’ Times-Picayune considered the Army’s action an endorsement of the American justice system, noting that the War Department ensured that “under the United States system of military justice every possible safeguard is provided through its automatic review procedures to protect defendants against a miscarriage of justice.”838 Those who weighed in on the side of the

Wacs doubted that a just system would have convicted the four Wacs in the first place.

Likewise, they suspected that the women’s restoration to duty had less to do with safeguards in the military justice system than the vigilance of activists. As the liberal journal PM noted, “Watchfulness Pays.”839 The Oregonian also accepted that the Army was prone to dissembling behind military protocol, claiming that “If the injustice done in the army by those who hide behind the word ‘discipline’ is ever totaled, it will make the national debt look like a chump.”840

Nearly all commentators could agree on at least one aspect of the case: the behavior of the women’s officers, notably Lovell Hospital’s commanding officer,

837 R.H. Markham, “Case of the Negro Wac: An Analysis of the Facts and the Implications, The Christian Science Monitor, 5 May 1945, “Discrimination in the U.S. Armed Forces, 1918-1955,” NAACP Papers, Reel 19, Part 9, Series B, 1940-1955 (Columbus: Ohio State University) microfilm.

838 “Court Martial of Four Voided,” Times-Picayune. New Orleans, Louisiana, 4 April 1945, 19 (New (America’s Historical Newspapers, accessed through Ohio State University Library, infoweb.newsbank.com.)

839 J.S. Qualey, “Release of Four WACs Called Straw in the Wind: Liberal See New Era of Justice in Army and Navy,” PM, 4 April 1945 (Library of Congress – Newspaper and Current Periodical Room) microfilm.

840 “Court Martial of Four Voided,” Times-Picayune. New Orleans, Louisiana, 4 April 1945, 19, (New (America’s Historical Newspapers, accessed through Ohio State University Library, infoweb.newsbank,com.)

386 Colonel Walter Crandall, warranted a War Department inquiry. In The Pittsburgh

Courier, the veteran activist Horace Cayton observed that “conditions must have been pretty bad to make [the Ft. Devens Wacs] make this desperate attempt to assert their womanhood.”841 A commentary in The Washington Post contended that an investigation of Crandall would improve morale between the races.842 Americans who had followed the case understood that as the women’s commander, the colonel had a responsibility to consider the welfare of his black Wac troops and that he had sorely neglected this duty.

In fact, many of the black orderlies’ officers had not taken their responsibilities for these women any more seriously than had Crandall. Several admitted that they had been aware of the enlisted Wacs’ grievances before the strike, and yet had not taken initiatives to rectify them. “I sensed trouble … when I first came here,” admitted one colonel, “and I hedged around it, to tell the truth, because I did not want to get in it.”843

Others knew that the women were unhappy in their jobs, yet faulted low skills, lackadaisical attitudes, and testy temperaments. Some claimed that they were unaware that black Wacs were most upset by their lack of opportunities. Major Ethel M. Aikens acknowledged that while “they were not receiving any education advantages … we didn’t

841 Cayton completed the sentence claiming that the women took the risk knowing that, under military law, they could be shot. It was a Cayton flourish that did not fully reflect reality. The women took great risk, though they were uncertain what these were. They were certainly not concerned with ending up before a firing squad. Horace R. Cayton, “News Items,” Pittsburgh Courier, 14 April 1945, national edition (Columbus: Ohio State University) microfilm.

842 “Negro Wacs,” Washington Post, 12 April 1945, 6 (ProQuest Historical Newspapers, accessed through Ohio State University).

843 Colonel Bowers, interview, War Department Investigation.

387 know that it was causing any conflict.”844 Repeatedly, the officers at Ft. Devens denied that racial discrimination was an issue. As they saw the problem, black Wacs only qualified for orderly positions, and yet they consistently complained, as Major Eileen

Murphy, Principal Chief Nurse, explained, of “this one is not doing this, and that one is not doing that” rather than taking action to improve themselves.845 “I never had heard of such a thing in my life,” she added. “What if the boys up there with the guns in the front lines did it?”846 In general, the officers who worked with the black orderlies expressed surprise at how upset the Wacs had grown over their assignments.

According to Lieutenant Colonel William J. White, the assistant inspector general of the First Service Command, officer neglect of the black orderlies had created the circumstances of discontent that sparked the strike, though no one more carelessly than

Col. Crandall. White’s findings were the result of his two-day, pre-trial investigation of the strike that Miles had ordered.847 The summary clearly indicated that White had no patience with insubordinate Wacs, yet acknowledged that the women’s superiors had ignored their grievances. So adamant was he on the failings of Crandall, in particular, that he devoted less space to the Wacs and their grievances than to the hospital administrator

844 Ibid. Major Ethel M. Aikens, Army Nurse Corps and Assistant Chief of Nursing Service, interview; also see interviews of Major Murphy and Major Breen.

845 Major Murphy expressed her irritation with the many Wac complaints of menial labor and discriminating jobs, which she boiled down to petty gripes.

846 Ibid.

847 “Investigation of SCU 1127, WAC Detachment, Lovell General Hospital, Ft. Devens, Mass,” 14 March 1945 (hereafter, First Service Command Investigation), RG 159, Entry 26E, Box 914, General Correspondence, 339.9, Stack 190, Row 17, Compartment 73, Shelf 00-1, NA.

388 and his assumed inadequacies. After faulting Crandall’s bungled treatment of the black

Wacs, he described the colonel’s interactions with other personnel as awkward and brusque and his administrative abilities inadequate.848 In Whites’ hands, the officer with twenty-six years of military service appeared an accident waiting to happen. Following

Whites’ condemnation of Crandall, the Army would unload much of the baggage of the strike on this lone officer’s shoulders.

Whether blaming Crandall for the strike was a purposeful strategy to excuse the

Army of further complicity or a genuine belief that the black Wacs would have been content if not for this one officer, the effect was the same: the Army had an explanation for the strike, and it did not involve segregation. Targeting Crandall cleared the Army and its policies from responsibility. By extension, Crandall’s unceremonious departure just before the court-martial vindicated other personnel who were directly involved with the

Wacs. When the Army obviously, if not openly, faulted the colonel, it freed them from reflecting on Army policies and how these may have contributed to the situation. With

Crandall the ascribed culprit, no others needed to examine how their treatment of the black Wacs or their lack of interest in their concerns may have contributed to the strike.

Despite the public outcry over Crandall and the First Service Command’s investigation’s damning assessment of his leadership, the Army had no intention of bringing charges against the former hospital commander. Through his column in The

Pittsburgh Courier, Horace Cayton vented his frustration with the Army’s rush to court- martial African Americans while exempting its white officers from prosecution. “Maybe

848 Ibid.

389 this act [the dismissal of the Wac case] was supposed to indicate the great liberality of the

Army’s part, and then again maybe it was done to avoid an investigation.”849 As Cayton understood, the Army was going to some length to protect Crandall from public scorn and his actions from scrutiny. Despite White’s biting criticism of the offending officer, he firmly recommended his quiet removal: “In the event that it is determined advisable to relieve Col. Crandall, it should not be in a way to be regarded as punitive or disciplinary, but due solely to the fact that he is not ideally suited to the performance of his present duties,” an administrative action known as “relief for cause.”850

The reason for Crandall’s departure from Ft. Devens was further toned down for the public when the First Service Command announced before the court-martial that

Crandall’s thirty-day leave had been approved. A month later, Truman K. Gibson, Jr., the civilian aide to the secretary of war, would insist in a letter to Roy Wilkins, the acting secretary of the NAACP, that the colonel had not taken leave to avoid the trial. He also assured Wilkins that “appropriate action” had already been taken in his case.851 He did not specify that action or indicate whether it involved Crandall, though a subsequent update noting Crandall’s transfer to Walter Reed Hospital “with a view towards retirement,” provided some answers. The move barely disguised the officer’s forced removal from the service, but obviously, the Army considered the pretense necessary.

Miles would later explain that his priority in dealing with Crandall was to avoid “the

849 Cayton, “News Items.”

850 Summary, First Service Command Investigation.

851 Letter, Truman K. Gibson to Roy Wilkins, 12 April, 1945, “Discrimination in the U.S. Armed Forces, 1918-1955,” NAACP Papers.

390 impression that the members of the Detachment by their action” had led to the abrupt changes in the officer’s career.852 As Cayton had suspected, the Army had not shielded

Crandall from public scrutiny or official rebuke merely out of collegial sympathy for the long-serving officer. The fact was that genuine deficiencies existed at Lovell Hospital

South and how it managed its black Wacs. If all were not the fault of just one man, they nevertheless indicated that the system at Ft. Devens had serious flaws that the Army would not want exposed.

By early April, the First Service Command in Boston was aware of the many problems in the management of the black WAC detachment at Ft. Devens. The black

Wacs who worked at Lovell Hospital South operated under a Byzantine chain of command. No one seemed to be responsible for their induction, training, duties, promotions, and morale. Lt. Lawson was nominally in charge of all Wacs at Ft. Devens, yet the WAC desired all-black Wac units to enforce de facto segregation. Lawson, therefore, understood that Stoney, the black detachment’s commanding officer, could act independently of her and take issues regarding black Wacs directly to Crandall.853 The cautious Stoney, just a month into the job, assumed that she should work through Lawson as her WAC senior. In any case, neither lieutenant was assigned to Lovell Hospital South where the enlisted black orderlies spoke of taking orders from officers, ward masters, and

852 General Sherman Miles, interview, War Department Investigation.

853 Ibid. Crandall, interview, 8-9. According to Crandall, he had given Stoney permission to consult him about black Wac matters when she replaced Lt. Sophie Gay.

391 even civilian nurses.854 Clearly, the black Wacs’ chain of command had broken down during the eight months of its operation, that is, if it ever existed.

As these issues came to light before the trial, Miles began instituting changes, of which his ouster of Crandall was only the first. On March 20, 1945, the day the Army convicted the four Wacs, Miles disbanded the entire WAC unit. It had consisted of all the

Wacs at Ft. Devens and been divided into two detachments, one for white and one for black servicewomen. Miles reorganized the personnel into three new units, the 2nd, 3rd, and 4th WAC Hospital Companies.855 Ironically, the reorganization least affected the black Wacs whose mass strike action led to it; they remained in their same segregated unit. Lt. Stoney continued to serve in the company, but as its assistant commander. The

WAC replaced her as commanding officer with Captain Myrtle Anderson, one of the first thirty-nine graduates of the WAC officer training program. The reorganization also clarified Lawson’s role. She commanded the 2nd WAC Company and was no longer part of the black Wacs’ command structure. Miles also modified the orderly assignment descriptions, posted at last by Crandall along with duty rosters just before his departure.856 This relieved all Wacs from their more strenuous work, such as pushing

854 Ibid. Morrison, interview, 560-561.

855 Ibid. As customary in the naming process of Army units with African American components, the black detachment fell last in line as the 4th WAC Hospital Company. Victoria Lawson, “Historical Report on SCU 1127, WAC Detachment, and 2nd, 3rd & 4th WAC Hospital Companies (Z/I), Lovell General & Convalescent Hospital, Fort Devens, Massachusetts,” 18 April 1945, Exhibit S.

856 Ibid. summary. Before his departure, Crandall posted a duty roster listing the duties for the Wac orderlies, civilian orderlies, and ward masters.

392 heavy food carts, washing walls, and scrubbing down trashcans.857 In mid-April, Miles implemented a training program for the orderlies, black and white, at the two Lovell

Hospitals. Though basic, it acknowledged one of the Wacs’ chief grievances.

Significantly, these changes indicated the Army’s interest in addressing, however insufficiently, their issues.

The Army hoped that the dismissal of the case, the restoration of the women to duty, and attention given to the black Wacs at Ft. Devens would quell criticism of its treatment of black Wacs. Given the controversial case that had rallied national support for the Wacs, the Army should not have been surprised when official inquiries from civil rights leaders continued. Roy Wilkins told Stimson that African Americans were pleased with the Wacs’ release, yet it “seems to us that the War Department, in taking this action, recognizes the existence of conditions which would provoke so serious an action as a violation of the 64th Article of War.” On April 5, Wilkins requested a full investigation into the causes of the strike, stating that “there still remain some significant and unexplained aspects of the situation.”858 On April 19, he repeated his request.859 Mary

857 Morrison, interview, 569.

858 The NAACP filed its first official request for an investigation on 15 March and repeated its request on 5 April 1945, Letter to Secretary of War Stimson from Roy Wilkins, Acting Secretary of the NAACP, 5 April 1945, “Discrimination in the U.S. Armed Forces, 1918-1955,” Series B, Reel 19, NAACP Papers (Columbus: Ohio State University) microfilm.

859 Letter, Wilins to Gibson, 19 April 1945, RG 165, Stack 390, Row 31, Comp 08/05.6, Entry 56, Box 172, NA.

393 McLeod Bethune also called for a review of Crandall’s part in the strike, warning the

Army that despite the dismissal, “the case doesn’t end there.”860

The War Department had questions of its own about what led to the strike and, importantly, how to avoid a repeat occurrence. On April 2, and officially upon the request of the First Service Command, it ordered an investigation of the incident. Its mandate was far more extensive than the investigation Miles had ordered before the trial. The War

Department investigation called for an in-depth inquiry into the circumstances that sparked the incident and a review of the current conditions of the black Wacs at Ft.

Devens.861 It also requested details on Crandall’s conduct in his dealings with the black

Wacs and the transfers of medical technicians, Harriet Warfield, Thelma Allen, and Inez

Baham. Furthermore, it wanted information on whether the Wacs’ charges of discrimination were justified.862 The War Department tasked two officers from its

Inspector General Division, Lt. Colonel Milton S. Musser and Major Ruby E. Herman, to investigate these matters. By the time Musser signed off on the report on May 4, 1945, he and Herman had interviewed over 120 people. Four of them were the women whose actions had sparked the nationally-publicized court-martial.

860 Paul Sann, “Ask Probe of Colonel in Wac Case,” New York Post, 4 April 1945. “Discrimination in the U.S. Armed Forces, 1918-1955,” NAACP Papers, Reel 19, Part 9, Series B, 1940-1955 (Columbus: Ohio State University) microfilm.

861 See “Request for Supplemental Investigation,” 2 April 1945, War Department Investigation.

862 Ibid. the “Request for Supplemental Investigation” continues “In addition … it is requested that the scope of the supplemental investigation be broadened to include all of the circumstances leading up to and concerning the refusal to work.”

394 On April 11, 1945, Pvt. Morrison sat down with Lt. Col. Musser and Maj.

Herman. During her interview, she repeated some of her earlier complaints. She criticized her officers for telling the black Wacs that if they did a good job, “you might get something better.” It was an empty promise, said Morrison, for though she and the other enlisted black orderlies kept “on slaving and slaving and slaving,” nothing had changed.

She deeply resented Stoney’s lack of initiative on their behalf: “Later we found out that half of the things we told her never got any further.” Morrison expressed her frustrations with having the duties of a maid when the Army had recruited Wacs to help the war effort. “We are not helping by washing dishes and doing that type of work.” At this point

Musser asked, “The wards had to be kept clean. You agree with that, don’t you?”

Morrison concurred, but asked in return, “why should they put all of the filthy work off on us to do? Why couldn’t we do something better than that?”863 She suggested hiring civilians for orderly work, and Musser moved on to his next point.

Musser and Herman probed Morrison about her part in the initial strike on March

9. Regarding the specific circumstances of her involvement, Morrison insisted that she could not remember. Already into their second week in the case, however, the investigators knew that the Wac before them had been among the most vocal proponents for some action. How forcefully she pushed this view is uncertain, though witness accounts and her own guarded responses suggest that she was actively urging solidarity, and not always as amicably as she described. Had she tried to enlist support? Morrison insisted that her message that day was, “Whatever we do, we don’t want to fight among

863 Ibid. Morrison, interview, 566-571.

395 ourselves.” Asked about alleged threats delivered on March 9, the morning of the strike, she mentioned a couple of incidents that she said she had witnessed. She agreed that some of the Wacs told Lula Johnson that if she went to work, “something will happen to you,” while others had gathered around Tessie Miller as she dressed for work. Morrison described each as a joke, claiming that everyone was laughing over the hilarity that either

Johnson or Miller would abandon them during a strike action.864 Besides, Morrison added, “Nobody would have gotten hurt.” It was an odd remark given that later that day, a large group of Wacs cornered one of its members, Ruby Pierce, and repeatedly punched her for speaking to Crandall after the meeting.865

The investigators suspected that Morrison had tried to rouse support for the strike on March 9 and continued to question her about her actions. Musser asked her if she had visited the other barracks that day. Morrison said she couldn’t remember. Did she go to other rooms in her barracks? Since everyone was moving to different rooms in the building, she agreed that the probability existed. Did she swear at Crandall? “Not at the

Colonel,” she replied.866 Was she part of the group who attacked Pierce after she spoke to

Crandall? No, she said. Instead, Morrison claimed that she was trying to escape the melee when someone aiming for Pierce hit her in the shoulder. Invoking a sort of survival

864 Ibid., 577-578.

865 Ibid. Ruth Waller, interview, 104. In addition, two of those who reported to work that day, Ruth Waller and Thelma Thomas, opted to sleep at Lovell Hospital North that evening over concerns for their safety. According to Waller, however, the idea of was Lawson’s. The private returned to her barracks after her shift, but under Lawson’s advisement, she moved to the north hospital for the night. According to Waller, “she told me she thought it was a good idea that we spend the night over there.”

866 Ibid. Morrison, interview, 576-580.

396 mode, Morrison explained that she did not have a chance to see who was involved and, as a result, she could not name names.867

Morrison also spoke of her relationships with other Wacs and her white co- workers at Ft. Devens. A little over a month before the strike, an argument between her and Queen Brown, another Wac on her ward, quickly escalated to violence. Morrison held out her arm to show the investigators the scar Brown allegedly caused after attacking her with a (fortunately dull) butcher knife. Afterwards, the two brawled in the kitchen.

That afternoon, Morrison transferred to a different ward.868 She said she and her new ward master, Johnnie Froias, had a good relationship and that she got along with most of the other Wacs, wardmen, nurses, and patients at the hospital.869

The investigators were also interested in how recent changes had impacted the attitude and conditions of Lovell Hospital’s black Wacs. They asked Morrison if she currently had any complaints. She responded that “Everything is going all right now.” On the other hand, when Herman asked her if she experienced discrimination, she said,

“Ma’am, that is what caused the whole thing.” She then recounted the “dirty work” her detachment performed while “all the time the white Wacs were working the dispensary and lab.”870 She also explained that black Wacs continued to do KP while the white Wacs

867 Ibid., 590. Morrison claims that she encountered thick crowd of Wacs in the barracks, tried to get through them, and then somehow got caught up in the middle. “I had to crawl through there to save my own self,” told the interviewers.

868 Ibid., 563.

869 Ibid., 564-561. As Morrison walked investigators through the people with whom she interacted at the hospital, she mentioned the frequently changing staff of nurses and cadet nurses and the number of people who gave her orders.

870 Ibid., 588-589. 397 were exempt from such duties. Despite these complaints, at no point did Morrison attempt to modify her earlier claims that, “Now that we are not doing the same thing I am perfectly satisfied.” Certainly, Miles had exempted the enlisted women orderlies from some of the more physical tasks, yet Morrison was still working as an orderly and therefore doing much the same work she had risked a court-martial, just a month earlier, to protest. During the interview, however, Morrison sounded satisfied, at one point, volunteering without prompting, “I am getting along all right.”871 Musser and Herman were left with trying to make sense of Morrison’s change of heart without a change of duties.

Alice Green was far more guarded than Morrison when she spoke to Maj. Herman the next day. (Musser did not attend this interview.) She was also exceedingly cooperative, answering all questions and speaking highly of her duties. Did she like her present work?” She did. Would she be “happy and contented to continue doing the work you are doing now?” She would. Was she treated well at the PX? Yes. Did she have complaints about Lt. Stoney? “As much as I can say about her—she has been very nice.”

Did she have any complaints about other immediate superior officers? “No.” Throughout the interview, Green was agreeable to all.872

So positive were her responses that even the investigator expressed astonishment.

During the March trial, Green had cited two reasons for disobeying Miles’ order: She was

871 Ibid.

872 Green, interview, 12 April 1945, War Department Investigation.

398 worried about the physical aspects of her duties because she thought she was pregnant, and she was frustrated with the disparity between white and black Wac jobs. During the

April investigation, however, she claimed that she had left her post because she was hungry, not to protest her duties. Contrary to her court-martial testimony, she said she liked her assignment. Understandably bewildered, the investigator asked, “How did you happen to get involved in this court-martial, Pvt. Green, with an attitude like that?” Green repeated that it was because she had been hungry. Asked why she then gave her name to

Lt. Lawson and marched complaisantly to confinement if she was willing to return to work, Green said she was merely obeying orders.873

Green’s responses were as confusing as they were positive, and seemingly somewhat exasperating for Herman. Green had a pass from Thursday to Saturday morning, yet returned on Friday to check on a friend. She said she arrived at noon when

Crandall’s meeting with the detachment was in progress and so joined it. By noon, however, the meeting had ended. Herman repeatedly attempted to pin Green down on the time, but the private insisted that she had arrived at noon. Additionally, Green described herself as hysterical after the meeting with Crandall. Herman asked if she was screaming, and Green said she was “just crying quietly.” Perplexed, Herman asked, “Would that be hysterical?” Green simply noted, “That’s what some say.” 874 Herman asked if members of her detachment were cursing. “They may have done cursing and going on, but I couldn't rightfully say so.” Green told Herman that she did not know what had happened

873 Ibid.

874 Ibid.

399 after the meeting with Crandall because that afternoon, she took a nap, a highly unusual, if not impossible, response after the tempestuous scene that morning and the heightened emotions in the barracks. Herman asked why she was so hungry on the day Miles ordered the Wacs to work when other orderlies had told the investigators that they had been allowed to break restriction to go to breakfast that morning. Green said that on Friday night, First Sergeant Clotha Bates told the Wacs that they could not go to the mess hall until further notice, and so she did not. Consequently, when Green marched to her ward on Saturday afternoon, she had not eaten for over twenty-four hours.875 Then there was the issue of her possible pregnancy. After numerous trips to the doctors before the strike, during her incarceration, and since the dismissal, Green could only respond that she “was still in doubt about it.”876

A careful reading of Green’s interview helps clarify some of the confusion. Green had not left base until 10 p.m. the night of Stoney’s meeting. It is therefore likely that she had an inkling of a strike action, especially when her friend, Alberta Doss, did not turn up as planned in the nearby town of Ayer the next morning.877 Returning to base (certainly an hour or so earlier than she recalled when speaking to Herman), she caught the meeting with Crandall in its last stage. According to statements, she was present when Crandall

875 Ibid. Green returned to Ft. Devens on 9 March. Others may have gone to lunch after the meeting with Crandall, but she took a nap. By the late afternoon, Bates relayed that the detachment had been placed on restriction. Apparently, Green attended to Bates’ order to stay in the barracks by not leaving that evening or the following morning. She would not eat her next meal until after her arrest.

876 Ibid.

877 Ibid. Green said she left post at 10 p.m. on Friday. When Herman reviewed the evening’s events, she cited a departure time of 8 p.m. Green agreed.

400 uttered “black Wacs” and the meeting abruptly ended. By pleading ignorance on whether cursing occurred afterwards, Green could avoid Herman’s inquiries over who showed disrespect to their commander. A late night off base, little food, and a feeling that she was pregnant would have made her tired. As far as her pregnancy, records document her many visits to the doctors at Lovell Hospital North and their attempts to diagnose her condition.

A probable explanation for Green’s agreeable yet confusing responses may have related to her health issues. Before the strike, she had had three pregnancy tests. The first two were negative, but the last, confirmed on the day Miles issued his order to return to work, tested positive. Even if she did not have access to the results that day, she likely did have concerns about the physical nature of her work given her most recent pregnancy test. Green suffered from a number of ailments. One was eventually diagnosed as a cervical infection, possibly due to the contraction of a venereal disease. She was likely in great pain during her court-martial and throughout her incarceration. After the trial,

Green continued to seek medical care.878 She was clearly not well. In addition, Green had a lot on her mind that spring: She was a twenty-one year old mother of two, her husband had deserted her and their children, and she might be pregnant again, and with another man’s child. Meanwhile, she had just escaped a dishonorable discharge and, for all she knew, a year of incarceration. Given her personal problems, Green may have seen little benefit in calling attention to herself or testing the boundaries of the WAC’s “traits and character” code of conduct. She needed the Army’s free healthcare and its salary.

878 Ibid. Also see medical file, Veteran’s Administration, Wichita, Kansas.

401 The same day that Herman interviewed Green, Musser spoke with Johnny

Murphy. It was not a long conversation.879 Musser’s questions were pointed and

Murphy‘s responses were succinct. He asked her about her duties and she listed them. He asked about her work hours, a well-documented fact. She answered, as would all the

Wacs, 7 a.m. to 7 p.m. with two hours off for lunch. He asked her to describe what she did on March 10 after her convalescence ended at Lovell Hospital North and she returned to the barracks. Each point required follow-up questions due to Murphy’s brief replies.

“You reported to the dayroom?” Murphy nodded, “Yes, sir.” Where was Stoney? “In the orderly room.” What did Stoney tell her to do? “She didn’t tell me anything to do. Just said ‘O.K.’” “Then what did you do?” Murphy said she went to the barracks. “Then what happened?” Murphy said that she went to the dayroom. The interview slogged along in this fashion with little of substance asked or given. Musser inquired about Murphy’s previous court-martial on January 20, 1945. Murphy admitted that she had used “vile language” against Stoney after an inspection turned up a whisky bottle cap among her things. She was found guilty and sentenced to thirty days restriction and deduction of over half of one-month’s pay.880 Musser then asked her about her interactions with

Stoney and Lawson after her release from the hospital. Many of his inquires required simple “yes” and “no” answers, and that is what Murphy gave.

The one question Musser seems to have steered clear of until late into the interview was Murphy’ powerful declaration that she would take death before returning

879 The transcript of Murphy’s interview is less than half the length of those of her co-defendants.

880 Murphy, interview, 12 April 1945, War Department Investigation.

402 to work. This had been one of the most widely-reported and provocatively racial comments of the strike, yet the investigator did not seem eager to enter this territory.

Only towards the end of the interview did he broach it by asking Murphy how she had responded to Lawson’s order to go to work. She replied, “I said like this. I said, ‘I’ll take death.’” Murphy’s rare attempt to be precise in this instance suggests that she may have been open to discussing her statement. If so, the opportunity was lost when Musser asked why she felt this way about her work. Obviously, Musser was unaware that the strike had not been simply about the actual work and, therefore, was unlikely to understand the indignity of being assigned to clean because she was a black woman. She replied, “I don’t know.” Musser then picked up on an earlier line of questioning that concerned her duties. “Your work wasn’t hard, was it?” Murphy seemed as ready as he to end the session. “Well, maybe not,” she agreed.881

Though Murphy did not shy away from answering the questions, neither did she eagerly volunteer additional commentary. Her responses grew even sparser as the interview proceeded. Earlier in the session, Musser had asked if the civilian orderlies scrubbed the floors. Murphy began saying that one did and was, presumably, about to note that the other one did not. Musser, however, cut her off mid-sentence, switched gears, and asked whether she scrubbed floors on her hands and knees. This occurred just once, and may have been inadvertent, but it was in sync with the overall tenor of the discussion. Neither Musser nor Murphy tried to connect with the other. The interview was a formality they both needed to perform. By the end, it would dissipate to mainly yes

881 Ibid.

403 and no questions and responses. When Musser asked Murphy why she didn’t like her job, she said she did not know. Was she satisfied with her current situation? “It’s all right.”

Did she have any complaints about it? “No, sir.” Was she satisfied with her work? “Yes, sir.”882

Young was not only more forthcoming than Murphy and Green, but had uniquely important insight into several of the most publicized incidents of the case. She had been the most adamant about expecting the Army to train her as a medical technician. She was the one Crandall had spotted taking temperatures. Young had also tried to get into a transportation school, and it was this discussion that led Crandall to use the term “black

Wacs.” Her comments were essential to the investigators, and Young was eager to tell her side of the story.883

Musser asked Young why she had been so certain that the Army would train her as a medical technician. Young explained that her recruiters told her that with her background, she should easily qualify. At Ft. Des Moines, her officers commonly singled out her and Ruby Pierce as medical technicians. They also told Young and the other recruits, in response to why it was taking so long to place them, that the Army was holding them back until it had enough black Wacs to send for medical technician training. She, like the others, arrived at Ft. Devens under the impression that they would soon be working in this field. When replacing white Wac orderlies, Young assumed that

882 Ibid.

883 Despite her run-ins with Crandall, Young most closely tied the strike to Stoney’s announcement that orderly jobs at Lovell Hospital South would be segmented between civilians and black Wac orderlies. She was certain the move would leave the Wacs with the civilians’ tasks. She also lamented Stoney’s lack of action on behalf of her troops, on this issue and others.

404 if she worked hard, she, too, would be selected for training and move on as did the white

Wacs. Comments from officers at Lovell Hospital South convinced Young that they considered her medical technician material. One officer, Major Arnison, said he would recommend her for a promotion and for medical technician school. A nurse, Lt. Newman, tapped her and another Wac “to take the whites Wacs’ place” and teach other black Wacs how to take temperatures.884 Young’s detailed response denotes her desperation for training. She had continually pursued it since her enlistment and still longed for the opportunity.

By the time of the interview, Young was still working as an orderly. Nevertheless, when asked if she faced discrimination at Ft. Devens, she said that she did not, with the exception of Crandall’s comment that black Wacs were there for the “dirty work.”

Otherwise, she said she got along well with the whites at the hospital, including the ward boys who she listed by their first names. “Gene, Al, and Jimmy, have been very nice to us.” Did she face discrimination at the PX? No, she said, “I just wait my turn.”885

As the session ended, Young seemingly made a last effort to secure medical training. When asked if she had any complaints about her present assignment, she replied,

“No, I have no complaints at all,” only to quickly follow it up to note, “I was just mainly interested in medical technician’s school.” Perfunctorily, Musser asked about her MOS

(Military Occupation Specialty) before returned to his closing line of questions. Did she have any further information that might inform the investigation? “Not that I know of,”

884 Young, interview, War Department Investigation, 527-528.

885 Ibid., 550.

405 she began, before she once again attempted to gain his interest in her quest for training.

“There isn’t anything; no more than what I could ask you, if I could, if there is a chance of me going to medical technician’s school. Will I get it?” Musser said he did not know.

Young persisted, perhaps sensing a last chance to interest an official with possible leverage to intervene. “I’m just interested in going to medical technician’s school. That’s all. I feel that if somebody should get very sick in the ward, I would want to be doing something temporary to [sic] the doctor taking over.” Musser heard her out and then asked, “Were there any other statements?” At this point, Young replied, “No.” Herman reminded her that the interview was confidential and that she did not need to discuss her responses with anyone, and the session ended.886 Young and the others would serve their time out as orderlies at Lovell Hospital.

Significantly, all four Wacs, women who, just three weeks earlier, had risked a court-martial to protest their jobs, expressed satisfaction with those same jobs. Little had changed in their absence. Despite a few modifications of duties, they were still cleaning hospital wards and running errands for the staff and patients. They also claimed that they were not experiencing discrimination at Ft. Devens even as their work assignments and their comments about the PX and KP duty revealed otherwise. Such accord was not necessary. Before Musser and Herman started each interview, they explicitly noted that all comments were confidential. Furthermore, they confirmed that service personnel could not be compelled to incriminate themselves under the protections of Article of War

886 Ibid., 554.

406 24.887 Moreover, the officers assured them that their purpose was to understand “the alleged irregularities [at Ft. Devens] with respect to the administration of the WAC

Detachment.” In any case, the four were not back on trial. They had already been court- martialed, their case had been dismissed, and the Army had no desire to revisit it in court.

Additionally, Musser and Herman were specifically asking whether they experienced racial discrimination. This was, of course, the very reason they gave for taking part in the strike. Unlike their court-martial when the Army denied that discrimination existed at Ft.

Devens, Morrison, Green, Murphy, and Young suddenly had the opportunity to tell Army officials about the discrimination they experienced. In fact, they did – and then they didn’t, eventually defaulting during their interviews to “Everything is fine.”

The reluctance of African American women to fully disclose their thoughts was not unusual. Even public speakers and prolific authors with long public careers in activism have left few introspective records of their private lives or personal views outside of their public persona.888 Scholars of African American women have located the reasons for this silence under the multiple layers of subordinate identities and oppression.

African American women tirelessly sought financial independence, personal security, and respect, yet remained into the 1940s largely relegated to subsistence livelihoods.

887 For example, Morrison, interview, War Department Investigation, 555.

888 Hines argues that the defense mechanisms of dissemblance were essential in helping women create some psychological site where they could collect their resources and deal with the abuse. Resistance to give up this sanctuary helps explain the lack of primary sources for black women and a reluctance to pass on personal papers that document their lives. Darlene Clark Hine, “Rape and the Inner Lives of Black Women in the Middle West,” Signs, Vol. 14, No. 4, Common Grounds and Crossroads: Race, Ethnicity, and Class in Women's Lives (Summer, 1989), University of Chicago Press, 912.

407 Furthermore, they had virtually no protection against labor or sexual abuse. Their families had little power, and in patriarchal societies, male members could add to their problems. Many black women faced labor and sexual exploitation at home as well as in the workplace. Government authorities, agencies, and courts rarely demonstrated concern for their plight. Dominated by whites, these civil entities were usually at the root of their problems.889

Young, Green, Morrison, and Murphy, however, were black women in uniform, and this entitled them to the same treatment as all other service personnel. When this did not happen, they openly expressed the inequities of their situation. When no one listened, they persisted, risking a court-martial to gain attention for their plight. During their trial, they presented their reasons. These were discounted. The four were ridiculed as lazy and immature (even by their own defense lawyer), convicted of insubordination, and handed a year in prison, forfeiture of pay, and dishonorable discharges. Certainly they were greatly relieved when Miles dropped the charges against them, yet the four Wacs knew that their release had not vindicated them or validated their grievances. They had tried cooperating with Army officers – white, black, male, and female – yet most had proved incapable of recognizing how pervasively blatant discrimination impeached their character. By the time they met with the investigators, they likely saw little purpose in further exposing how they actually felt and did not want to take the risk of having their grievances

889 The authorities sided with whites to justify lynching and rape, enforce segregation in schools and neighborhoods, and prohibit African Americans from voting. They typically sided with employers who accused black domestics of stealing or who refused to properly compensate them for their labor. Danielle L. McGuire, At the Dark End of the Street Black Women, Rape, and Resistance: A New History of the Civil Rights Movement from Rosa Parks to the Rise of Black Power. (New York: Knopf, 2010).

408 revisited in a court of law. The Army valued cooperation, so they reported that their situations were good and everyone was nice. In view of the court-martial, the guilty verdict, and their return to orderly work, Morrison, Murphy, Young, and Green’s responses suggest that they had learned how to survive as black women in the military.

They would tell the authorities what they wanted to hear and keep their genuine thoughts inside. There, they and the truths they knew could not be attacked.

The former defendants’ reactions were consistent with Darlene Clark Hines’ theory of a “culture of dissemblance.” Black women occupied the periphery of society where normal rules did not apply and the most basic protections simply did not exist. By creating a false “appearance of openness and disclosure,” Clark Hine argues, they

“shielded the truth of their inner lives and selves from their oppressors.”890 The resulting invisibility of their private selves provided a hidden space where their self-respect could take root and flourish.891 At one point during her interview, Morrison referred to such an inner space of consciousness. Someone had told her, she said, that if things did not go well, “I mean down underneath where nobody can see,” it was important to get the attention of those who could help.892 Through the strike action, she and her co-defendants had succeeded in gaining the attention of those who could help, but it was not enough.

890 Hine, “Rape and the Inner Lives of Black Women,” 912.

891 So adept were African American women at dissemblance that historians have found it difficult to locate primary sources regarding their personal views. Activists who wrote speeches, diaries, articles have left few papers discussing their personal difficulties and inner thoughts.

892 Morrison, interview, War Department Investigation, 574.

409 Gaining understanding for their situation as black Wacs was another matter, and it proved elusive.

Even as the four Wacs attempted to compartmentalize the daily strain of racism by presenting their current circumstances as satisfactory, they inevitably revealed their reality. Asked if she experienced discrimination at the PX, Morrison replied that she did not, even as her reason distinctly indicates that she did. “Lots of times I go in there and the girl won’t wait on me and I just walk out. I mean, I never have any trouble with them because I leave.”893 The incongruity of Morrison’s response was lost on the investigators.

Similarly, Green’s extraordinary turnaround – from disliking her job enough to risk a court-martial to fully enjoying it just a month later – might have given the investigators pause. Murphy’s transformation from angrily radicalized to morosely content and

Young’s stated satisfaction of her job followed by pleas to train as a medical technician also failed to alert Musser and Herman to the curious inconsistencies of these interviews.

Other enlisted black Wacs conveyed similar contradictions when questioned, some due to a situation in flux. They were still responsible for cleaning the hospital and running errands for the staff and patients, yet with a decrease in the physical demands of their duties. Midway through the investigation, training sessions began for the all Wac orderlies. Consequently, when Pvt. Lois Floyd was asked if she was satisfied with her work, she answered, “I wouldn’t say I was satisfied, but it so happens we are going to school now, and the future looks brighter. I mean, if preparations are made for things to

893 Ibid.

410 be better for us, there’s no use complaining.”894 Another responded far more effusively:

“I have never had any dull days on my job since I have been here.”895 Many simply said

“yes” when asked if they were currently satisfied with their assignments. Did they experience discrimination? Most replied no, yet, like Morrison, some then described clear examples of discrimination. “Sometimes I would wait about an hour [at the PX) and would have to turn around and walk on out because I wouldn’t get waited on,” said Pvt.

Ellsworth Manuel. She then added, “I don’t know whether you would call that discrimination or not.”896

In an attempt to compare black and white orderly duties, Musser and Herman also interviewed white enlisted orderlies, including two of the fourteen who had worked at

Lovell Hospital North during the strike.897 PFC Ruth Cone, who had attended surgical technician school, affirmed that white orderlies mopped floors, cleaned latrines, and served meals. She also noted that they were always on time – a noted problem with some of the black orderlies.898 Pvt. Helen Bugar, who had no advanced training, said that she scrubbed floors, though only when the civilian workers were on vacation. Asked if white

894 Ibid. Lois Floyd, interview.

895 Ibid. Tommie Cartwright, interview, 166.

896 Ibid. Ellsworth Manuel, interview, 184.

897 List of all enlisted white Wacs stationed at Ft. Devens, including rank, MOS, AGCT score, and assignment as of 9 March 1945, RG 159, Entry 26E, Box 914, General Correspondence, 339.9, Stack 190, Row 17, Compartment 13, Shelf 00-1, NA.

898 Upon completing surgical technician training, Cone said that she expected a T/5 rating, but, “we came out as Privates.” Possibly she meant only those afterwards assigned to orderly work. PFC Ruth O. Cone, interview, War Department Investigation.

411 Wacs had expressed dissatisfaction with their orderly jobs before the black Wacs took over for them, Bugar recalled that there had been some “discussion to that effect” because most felt they were overqualified for these tasks.899 As for Cone and Bugar, both said that they liked their jobs and did not know why the black Wac orderlies went on strike.900

Musser and Herman evidently assumed that Cone’s and Bugar’s interviews provided evidence of equal treatment of white and black orderlies at Ft. Devens, yet this position disregarded the overall differences in circumstances. Cone and Bugar stated that civilians typically freed them from some of the less desirable orderly jobs. This had not been the case for black Wacs until after the strike. Bugar noted that the white Wacs also grumbled about orderly work, a point the investigators knew, but did not relate to the black Wacs’ complaints. The arrival of the black Wacs resolved the problem for white

Wacs as most moved up to other assignments. There would be no replacements for the black women whose low AGCT scores did not qualify them for reassignment.901

Throughout these interviews, the white orderlies’ responses readily conformed to expectations that white Wacs were more realistic and cooperative than African American women. Claiming the same work and conditions, Cone and Bugar negated, to the inspectors’ satisfaction, the black Wacs’ charges of racial discrimination. Musser would call attention to this in his final report.

899 Ibid. Helen E. Bugar, interview, 20 April 1945.

900 Ibid. Cone, interview.

901 This was partly due to the low AGCT scores, but also to the likely uproar should white Wacs replace black Wacs in cleaning duties.

412 The report and the investigation were in many ways exhaustive. Musser and

Herman spent a month looking into the various issues of the strike.902 These included the competency of the black Wacs’ officers, the assignments of the three medical technicians, and the viability of black Wac training schools at the motor pool. They also investigated whether racial discrimination was a factor in the women’s work assignments, the KP roster, and their treatment at the PX. The investigation consisted of interviews of enlisted personnel and officers, the latter including Crandall, Lawson, Stoney, and Miles. Musser and Herman reviewed the transcripts of the earlier investigation, internal memorandum, and newly compiled data comparing the working conditions between white and black

Wacs. The final report was an impressively massive 700-page document with over forty attachments. The summary and conclusion alone filled forty-one pages. The War

Department could have reasonably expected the investigation to unveil the precise circumstances of the strike. Indeed, it did. Contemporary interpretations, however, failed to grasp them.

In the final report for the War Department, Musser and Herman conceded that the

Wacs had some legitimate grievances. Crandall, of course, was cited in this regard, though the investigators felt that the fault lay with his way of dealing with the Wacs rather than “any special bias toward Negroes.” Stoney also came in for criticism for her weak leadership, yet Musser and Herman declared her otherwise “a sincere and a capable officer.” The two investigators could also see why the KP issue remained problematic, though in appearance rather than reality. The charge of discrimination, they felt, was

902 The War Department Investigation began on 4 April and ended on 30 April 1945.

413 unwarranted because white Wacs had once been assigned to KP (until the arrival of the black detachment). Though the mess officer had orders to hire civilians to replace the black Wacs, the likelihood of him finding workers in the tight labor market, the investigators acknowledged, was doubtful.903

The report provides interesting background to the case of the three medical technicians and Crandall’s role in the episode. The Army’s Surgeon General had blocked

Allen, Baham, and Warfield from overseas duty with the 6888th Postal Battalion on grounds of a domestic urgency for persons with their training. Afterwards, it discovered that, despite the severe shortage, it did not have any requisitions for black medical technicians. In order to place them somewhere, Lt. Colonel Edward R. Whitehurst, from the office of the Surgeon General of the Army, sent them to Ft. Devens, where he expected a future need for black technicians. In the interim, he changed their MOS to that of orderlies. Allen, Baham, and Warfield, seemingly unaware of the high-level downgrade, refused to work as orderlies. Stoney’s solution that Crandall report them as surplus personnel in order to transfer them from Ft. Devens touched off several high level conversations between Whitehurst and the First Service Command’s Captain Sisson. For over a month, the two vacillated between retaining the three technicians at Ft. Devens and reporting them as overages. After the strike, Miles took charge of the situation and, eager to have them off post during the court-martial, quickly organized reassignments for

903 Summary, War Department Investigation.

414 Allen, Baham, and Warfield.904 Significantly, though the technicians’ month-long strike likely encouraged the other orderlies to follow suit, their MOS and duties at Lovell

Hospital had never been Crandall’s call.

The investigation’s summary report also looked into the imbalance between white and black Wac assignments and the four attempted suicides. Musser and Herman did not find connections of any sort between these issues and discrimination. Instead, they cited the women’s low AGCT scores for their higher proportion as orderlies as compared to white Wacs. (They did not explain why the technicians with adequate scores and training were also assigned as orderlies.) In regards to the attempted suicides, all four Wacs afterwards noted the psychological burden of their orderly assignments. The investigators acknowledged that the three attempts that occurred after the strike, “serve to indicate the extent to which at least some of the Negro enlisted women became upset over the manner in which they considered they were being treated.” In fact, the first attempt just weeks before indicated similar frustration and might have also served as a warning of the festering issues among the orderlies. In any case, the report’s psychiatric evaluations provided Herman and Musser with a context of overall mental instability on the women’s part, and this took precedence over issues with assignments.905

The investigators looked into the numerous complaints among the black Wacs concerning long waits for service at the PX and, again, found no evidence of racial

904 Ibid., 26-29. Originally, Allen and Baham were also facing a court-martial. After the defense council, Julian Rainey, negotiated their release, Miles immediately dispatched them to other posts.

905 Ibid., 24-26.

415 discrimination. They partly based their findings on personal observations by one or both of the investigators and the assurances of the PX officer, Captain Thomas A. Flynn, that racism was not an issue in the PX. Musser and Herman specifically investigated two incidents that black Wacs had reported to Crandall before the strike as well as the most often cited concern they encountered during interviews with the black Wacs. In the first incident, a black Wac had complained that a clerk served a frankfurter to the white Wac before her in a napkin in the usual manner, and then inexplicably put hers on wax paper.

The second tried to buy Kleenex just after a white Wac had made the same purchase, only to be told that the PX did not have any others to sell. Most commonly, the Wacs complained that PX clerks ignored them, forcing them to wait for lengthy periods to make a purchase. After inquiries, the officers deemed each incident unavoidable and in no way indicative of racism. The snack bar clerk had run out of napkins, the remaining supply of Kleenex were for patients, and during busy periods, whites also had to wait to be served.906 According to Musser and Herman, the complaints reflected appearances of discrimination rather than actual evidence of it. To avoid future perceptions of bias against African Americans, the PX officer planned to install branches in each WAC dayroom.

Discussions of the Fort Devens strike consistently gravitated to frameworks of racial discrimination, yet being female as well as African American not only tagged black

Wacs during World War II for servant work, but severely limited their opportunities to qualify for anything else. Musser and Herman’s finding in their investigation of the motor

906 Ibid., 20-21.

416 transport school illustrate the gender biases black Wacs’ encountered at Ft. Devens and the acceptability of such biases. Prompted by Young’s persistent requests to transfer to the motor pool, the officers investigated whether the courses accepted black Wacs.

According to the commanding officer of the motor pool, Captain Barney H. Edwards, they did not. As he explained it, he had informed Young that while permissions were normally required, in her case, he did not have positions available. The investigators would soon learn why.907

At the time of the strike, the light truck drivers’ school was the only transportation course at Ft. Devens for African Americans, and it was reserved for black soldiers. As

Edwards explained, it had been “established primarily for the training of Negro enlisted men as truck drivers for overseas combat and supply units.”908 Of course, black Wacs were ineligible on each account: the Army restricted all Wacs from combat areas; and the

WAC restricted all black Wacs, aside from those assigned to the 6888th Postal Battalion

(recently sent to Europe), from overseas duty. The investigators mentioned only this one school for black soldiers, yet a post of Ft. Devens’ large size and importance would have had other courses to meet the needs of the First Service Command’s wide-spread regional operations. It needed drivers, both soldiers and Wacs. In fact, Caroline Kaniuk, the white

Wac discovered AWOL in New York, had worked as a driver around the First

Command’s headquarters in Boston. The person who advised Young to consider the motor pool was a black Wac driver while a white Wac driver had informed Young that

907 Ibid., 22-23.

908 Ibid., 22-23; 40.

417 the motor pool was seeking Wacs for a new training course.909 As the investigators learned, this course was open to white Wacs only.

Training for black Wacs had obviously occurred, but not during the time that the black Wac orderlies were stationed at Ft. Devens. From April 1944 to March 1945, the motor pool operated just one course for black soldiers and none for black Wacs.

Additionally, in the spring of 1945, it would train white Wacs, but not black Wacs.910 In each case, the Army accepted these restrictions, thereby blocking black Wacs from all motor pool courses. From Musser and Herman’s point of view, however, the motor pool offered training to African Americans and Wacs, and this discounted claims of discrimination.

In their final analysis of the black Wac strike at Ft. Devens, Lt. Col. Musser and

Maj. Herman concluded that “there had been what can justly be termed a mutiny, based upon some real and some fancied grievances.”911 When “considering equal rank and comparable classification,” they asserted that there were no differences in duties between white and black Wacs. Consequently, “the primary basis for most of the complaints was a clash of personalities.”912 With some exceptions due to the noted short-comings of

Crandall and Stoney, the investigating team reasoned that the strike was not the fault of

909 Ibid. Young, interview, 542.

910 Ibid. The summary focuses on the Light Truck Drivers’ School that trained black men heading overseas. It operated from 10 April 1944 to 5 March 1945. The report does not mention other motor pool related transportation schools, no doubt because this was the only one for African Americans.

911 Ibid. Summary, 38.

912 Ibid.

418 the women’s officers or a result of their assignments, but due to the intellectual deficiencies of the black Wac orderlies. This supposedly impaired their understanding of the seriousness of their actions:

To persons of their limited mentality, it has doubtless appeared for reasons

beyond their power of analysis that breaches of discipline on their part will

not necessarily involve punishment and may result in advantages to

them.913

During the trial, Rainey had argued that the women’s infantile understanding of the Army and their place in it had caused them to disobey a direct military order. The Army apparently accepted this notion in its entirety.

Ultimately, the findings of the month-long, intensive investigation offer seemingly foregone conclusions. Musser and Herman’s comments repeated many of the prosecutor’s critiques of the women during their court-martial (their jobs were not difficult; they were unqualified for other work) and the mainstream press’s criticisms of the strike (no excuse for insubordination). For that matter, the investigators’ conclusions reflected the views that WAC and War Department officials had expounded since the

Army agreed to enlist black women (low ability; poor values; sensitive to race issues).

Throughout the summary, the investigators questioned, if not out rightly demeaned, the intelligence of the detachment’s troops and their competence to understand their duties or accept their place in the Army’s mission: “The low mentality of the majority of the

913 Ibid.

419 colored Wacs would encourage a belief that such promises had been made.” Rather than giving due consideration to the reasons behind the inequitable treatment, the report indicates a pre-determined rejection of discrimination as a reason for the women’s strike.

Musser and Herman were, in part, able to substantiate their conclusion that racial discrimination was not a factor in the strike by a selective gathering of evidence. The investigators focused on the orderlies’ duties, hours, and the difficulty of those duties rather than their lack of opportunities to obtain other positions or the skills these required.

They also disregarded the women’s passionate statements that directly linked the Wacs’ perceptions of racial discrimination to the strike action. During Murphy’s interview, she, not Musser, injected her defiant “I’ll take death” statement. Neither Musser nor Herman asked Morrison why she had announced that she would take a court-martial, “if it will help my people.”914 As Morrison did not either, this powerful connection between their race and the strike fell from the table of discussion. The investigators also overlooked

Morrison’s explicit confirmation that discrimination was the motivating factor when she asserted, “Ma’am, that’s what caused the whole thing.”915 Likewise, they ignored

Young’s inability to gain training and Green’s about-face position regarding her interest in her duties. The investigators did not find these points compelling or curious. They did not consider the visceral reactions of nearly all of the black orderlies during the strike a matter worth exploring. In fact, emotional outbursts, unrealistic expectations, and a

914 Ibid., 173; 180.

915 Ibid. Morrison, interview, 589.

420 tendency to cry racism were commonly accepted character traits of African American women.

Adding to the selectivity of evidence, the investigating team also failed to interview several key players with essential information regarding the precise points

Musser and Herman were charged to investigate. Warfield, Allen, and Baham, for instance, could have related their experiences and credentials as qualified medical technicians assigned to orderly duty. They could have also commented on their motivations for conducting their own private strike. Indeed, Warfield’s letter to her aunt had immediately triggered the interest of the NAACP. Surely, she had a relevant perspective. Nor did the investigators interview Lt. Brown, the chaplain whom the six

Wacs consulted shortly after their confinement. Chaplain Brown would have had first- hand knowledge of their state of mind at the time. Furthermore, as an African American, he could have lent insight to the racial discrimination they faced at Ft. Devens. Since

Miles had transferred all four of these personnel to posts in other states shortly after the strike (another curious development), interviews would have been logistically inconvenient, though not unduly so. Had the investigators been interested in the evidence these personnel could have provided, they could have requested their presence. They did not.

Musser’s and Herman’s interview questions, conclusions, and the evidence they selected demonstrate that the two white officers accepted the same stereotypes of black women that many other officers, including their superiors in the War Department, held.

Consequently, they also disregarded the legitimacy of the black Wacs’ grievances.

Whether an unconscious product of their socio-economic background or, perhaps less 421 likely, rabid prejudice against black women, this was, in fact, the investigators’ only recourse. The War Department unequivocally rejected the notion that overt racial discrimination existed in its forces, forbade racism as a defense in disciplinary cases, and held fervently to segregation as a fair and workable system. It would not have appreciated one of its most thorough investigations into African American insubordination concluding that racial discrimination had, in any form, contributed to the misbehavior of black troops. With Musser and Herman at the helm, the War Department need not worry.

The report they submitted maintained the Army’s perceptions of black women.

Indeed, the interviews provided the investigators plenty of fodder to not only maintain, but reinforce stereotypes, beginning with black women’s unconstrained volatility. Even before the strike, Murphy had used foul language when addressing her commanding officer that resulted in her first court-martial. Morrison and Queen Brown had not only fought with their fists, but brought a butcher knife into the fray. An argument between a black Wac and white civilian also exploded into a fight. (This last incident led to the plan to separate black Wac and white civilian orderlies that touched off the strike the next day.) All of the black Wacs described the heightened anxiety and

“hysterical” crying among the members of their detachment during the strike. At times, these emotions transgressed into appalling behavior. Crandall’s attempts to address the

Wacs’ concerns were greeted by many of them stomping around and cursing. Afterwards, they viciously attacked Pierce for speaking to him. For a month, Musser and Herman heard descriptions of these and other incidents of black Wac violence.

From the vantage point of two white officers conducting interviews, the black

Wacs at Ft. Devens could be seen as living up to their stereotypes. Within this 422 framework, the women assumed abilities they did not possess – a point that a fresh round of AGCT scores validated – and demonstrated more loyalty to their race than to the military and their country.916 Indeed, they abandoned their posts to complain about racism, refused to name those who had encouraged the strike, cursed at Crandall, and attacked Pierce for speaking to him. According to their detachment commanders and hospital personnel, black Wacs could be difficult to manage. Some were moody, often complained, and were repeatedly tardy. Not all conducted themselves according to proper feminine behavior. Apparently, Murphy had brought whiskey into the barracks while

Green was obviously having sex with a man not her husband. Each of these deviations from proper womanhood was consistent with the popular conceptions of black women as uncooperative, lazy, and generally lacking proper morals.

Ironically, Caroline Kaniuk, the white Wac dishonorably discharged at an earlier

Ft. Devens court-martial, exhibited all of these behaviors and others. She was not only late to work, but occasionally did not show up for days, eventually going AWOL for over two weeks. Kaniuk disobeyed her officers, drank alcohol, and had an affair with a man not her husband. When white Wacs breeched proper womanhood, however, they were individually held to account. When black Wacs did, they confirmed the expected character deficiencies of the other women in their detachment and, by extension, black women in general.

The War Department’s investigation was one of the many documents that the Ft.

Devens grievances generated. Others include the “Summary of Complaints,” the First

916 See chart and discussion of these AGCT scores in Chapter 3.

423 Service Command’s investigation, and the transcripts of the court-martial.917 The case spawned internal Army memoranda and transcribed phone conversations. It also produced coast-to-coast press reports and the correspondence of civil rights leaders, congressional representatives, and civilians. Individually, each of the documents signifies the extraordinary efforts that the Army took, beginning with Miles’ decision to open the court-martial to the public, to demonstrate its attention to military protocol and to document the fairness of its conclusions. Collectively, this hefty haul of materials indicates the microscope that the Army was under as it managed a case involving black women, a category that it, and society, consistently marginalized, often to the point of invisibility.

In contrast, white civilian authorities could ignore conflicts involving black women and men, and they usually did. Unhampered by policies and laws that expected uniform treatment for all citizens, they needed only to provide lip-service to accepted

American values to justify their actions. Who would challenge them? White Americans’ monopoly in government offices, the media, economic spheres, and the courts effectively stymied African Americans’ attempts to assert their rights as citizens. Without standard rules of accountability, white civilians could easily justify banning African Americans from their neighborhoods and jobs on shoddy logic. Certainly, democracy guaranteed white Americans the right to live and work with members of their own race. Likewise,

917 The “Summary of Complaints” refers to the hospital inspection team’s report on 7 March 1945. Several Wacs lodged complaints at that point, just two days before the strike. Memo, Major Miller to Colonel Putney, “Complaint from Colored WAC Detachment at Lovell General and Convalescent Hospital,” 7 March 1945. The report is included in War Department Investigation as Exhibit D.

424 they could ignore race and gender-based guilty verdicts by all-white juries on the flimsiest of evidence. In the 1940s, African Americans did not have the political, economic, or social clout to contest even the most obvious travesties of justice. (Recy

Smith, gang-raped in Alabama, knew and identified her attackers, yet on the men’s word that she had been a willing partner, the sheriff let them go.918) Across the nation, civilian authorities were at liberty to dismiss even legitimate African American grievances.

Musser and Herman’s conclusions demonstrate that Army authorities could also dismiss the legitimate grievances of African Americans, yet with a difference: the Army required explanations backed by documented evidence. Unlike the miasma of local authorities, the top-down structure of the military featured the War Department as a national focal point of accountability. Additionally, as a large, hierarchal institution with a mission that demanded unquestioned obedience, the War Department depended on the compliance of its policies throughout its ranks. When conflict arose and discrepancies appeared, the Army’s bureaucracy, with its need to justify in writing its actions, insisted on investigations and supporting documentation for upper level review. Unlike civilian laws, Army policies during World War II guaranteed certain standard operating procedures for its service personnel regardless of race, sex, or rank.

Consequently, the Army routinely followed military protocol for incidents involving black Wacs, as they did for all others, confident in its ability to deliver impartial judgments. It conducted investigations, supplied defense attorneys as needed,

918 Danielle L. McGuire, At the Dark End of the Street Black Women, Rape, and Resistance: A New History of the Civil Rights Movement from Rosa Parks to the Rise of Black Power (New York: Knopf, 2010).

425 and rendered command-level reviews of all general court-martial guilty verdicts. Through the use of these standard procedures, the Army convinced itself, its personnel, and most

Americans that it was providing uniform treatment and therefore uniformly fair decisions.

Contesting this assumption is the fact that in nearly every recorded disciplinary incident involving black Wacs, the Army ruled out racism as a factor and assigned guilt to those who complained of racial discrimination.919

The Ft. Devens incident, as the war’s most well-documented black Wac disciplinary action, provides important similarities and differences in comparison with other black Wac incidents. First, the court-martial members and investigating officers who reviewed the circumstances reached the usual conclusions: the black Wacs who complained of racism were guilty of insubordination, and their claims of discrimination were unfounded.920 (Military protocol ensured inquiry, explanations, and evidence, but not necessarily impartial justice.) On the other hand, widespread publicity gave the Ft.

Devens defendants a distinct advantage over other black Wacs involved in disciplinary actions. The Army was suddenly not only accountable to itself, but also to a large civilian audience that was closely monitoring its actions.

919 The WAC usually called in the black Wac officer Harriet West to investigate matters involving black service personnel and their complaints. West’s binders contain over a dozen incidents between 1943 and 1944. Attention to them sufficiently settled the majority thereby averting court-martials. The women’s complaints that launched them, usually regarding menial assignments, were seldom resolved. For a sampling of West’s investigations, see Harriet West Waddy, “Interim Report: Number 2, 20 July 1942.” Army Women’s Museum Archives, Ft. Lee, Va.

920 The Army later dismissed the charges, but it did not reverse the initial verdict.

426 The publicity of the Ft. Devens case produced increased levels of War

Department documentation and dissemblance in order to meet specific objectives. For instance, it relied on military regulations to invalidate Miles’ capacity to review the verdict. This allowed the Army to void the charges against the four black Wacs and avoid what would have been a messy public appeal. As expected, the dismissal led to a sharp decline in public inquiries about the incident. Additionally, the Army launched an extensive investigation of the strike, thereby conceding to the demands for a review of the circumstances. As a confidential report, it was closed to the public, and the Army could report the evidence it chose. Furthermore, the Army appointed a new company commander for the recently reorganized black Wac unit and a new administrator for

Lovell Hospital. These moves and others assisted the Army in covering over policies that marginalized black Wacs and led to the strike with the image of a single incompetent colonel causing all the problems. With Crandall gone, the problem could be seen as resolved.

Others in the First Service Command had also ignored the black Wacs’ concerns, yet they did not fall under the same scrutiny as Colonel Crandall. When the Army removed him from his post shortly after the strike, it subtly consigned any Army missteps in the incident – not belonging to the Wacs – to this one man. As a result, there was no reason to assume others were at fault. Additionally, the court-martial verdict and two investigations of the case negated racism as a cause. Exonerated, the military personnel who were in direct contact with the black Wac orderlies before the strike were under no compunction to question their treatment of the Wacs, reflect on their views of black women, or consider the social inequities at Ft. Devens. Time magazine had marked the 427 dismissal of the case as the War Department’s decision to take “The Easy Way Out,” yet the dismissal also provided an easy way out for other military personnel who worked with the Wacs.

Retreating into a culture of dissemblance was less the “easy way out” for African

American women than their only way out from under the hostility of a white, patriarchal society. In mid-March 1945, Green, Morrison, Murphy, and Young had spoken up and taken a bold stand against the indignities of their treatment. By mid-April, they were conforming to Army expectations. All four told the investigators that they were satisfied with their current situations – though they were nearly the same situations they had risked a court-martial to protest. Each differed in the extent to which she was willing to explain her actions, yet by the end of their interviews, all seemed resigned to the fact that their words were having little positive effect on the investigators. They would not be able to convince Musser and Herman of the legitimacy of their stance any more than they had the law members at their trial. The four, therefore, appear to have opted for outward compliance and inward silence. By presenting an accommodating outer face to the Army, they could retreat to an inner space of their private self. Here they could work to restore balance to their sense of dignity without interference from condescending remarks. Only here were they safe from the pervasive and perverse presumptions of black women over which they had so little control. In these private sanctums, they were also safe from further legal proceedings. In the sanctuary of their consciousness, they could take pride in their strike, then recover and rebuild – at least, so long as they did not expose their true thoughts to the rampant criticisms of others.

428 Thus, the protocol of military discipline worked with remarkable efficiency to restored conformity among its post personnel and bring closure to the case. The War

Department’s investigation alone served these purposes. Its intensity helped blunt the

Army’s critics’ charges of racism. Its numerous interviews gave military personnel at Ft.

Devens the chance to assert that all races were equal -- and hence profess their fair treatment of the black orderlies. Finally, the interviews created an opportunity for Green,

Young, Morrison, and Murphy to demonstrate their cooperation with the Army before retreating into their private spaces where they could at last attempt to recover from the ordeal.

Dissembling could hide reality, but it could not change it. The four Wacs never apologized for the strike. They knew, despite the denunciations from nearly all others around them, that their reasons for the strike were valid. The Army also learned a lesson, and from the very women it had prosecuted and found guilty. Regardless of its avowals of equal treatment and its successful disseminating behind policies that validated their position, the strike action by Morrison, Green, Young, Murphy, and the others in their detachment demonstrated that the women did not feel fairly treated. The Army could continue to deny this reality and marginalize black Wacs, but as some officers began to recognize, they could not completely dismiss these women without consequence, at Ft.

Devens or elsewhere.

429 Conclusion

A Sociological Laboratory

“It has been often stated,” acknowledged Truman K. Gibson, the civilian aide to the Secretary of War on racial affairs, “that the army is considerably ahead of the majority of most parts of the country in its handling of Negroes.”921 When Gibson commended the Army in August of 1945, he and his War Department colleagues could point to an impressive record of wartime flexibility in handling racial as well as gender issues. At Ft. Devens, just four months before, the Army had dismissed the charges against four enlisted Wacs who had clearly defied its authority, launched an extensive inquiry into the women’s grievances, and implemented a training program for all Wac orderlies, black and white, at the post’s two hospitals. Indeed, throughout the war, the

Army had introduced policies that endorsed the fair and equal treatment of its African

American and its female troops. In 1940, it commissioned its first black general and

921 Memorandum, Truman K. Gibson, Jr. to John J. McCloy, Assistant Secretary of War, 8 August 1945. Gibson’s statement concludes his recommendation that the Army move toward integration. Bernard C. Nalty and Morris J. MacGregor, Blacks in the Military: Essential Documents (Wilmington, DE: Scholarly Resources, Inc., 1982), 173; During a 1949 meeting with the Fahy Committee, Chief of Staff, General Omar Bradley expressed a similar opinion: “I challenge anyone to show me any large-scale business or government enterprise in the United States where the Negro has achieved faster advancement, more responsibility, and greater remuneration than the United States Army.” Omar Bradley, 28 March 1945, Papers of Charles Fahy, Box 3, File: Misc. Papers of Judge Fahy, Truman Library, Independence, Missouri.

430 integrated most officer training programs.922 In 1941, the Army was the first service to establish a women’s corps, and in 1942, the only to enlist both white and black women.923

In 1944, it mobilized African American soldiers into coveted combat roles previously denied them. In 1945, it sent its first battalion of black Wacs to Europe. Moreover, by commissioning black men and women, the Army accorded these individuals superior status over all enlisted personnel, regardless of race or sex. Only the Army, with over eight million troops, offered so many American men and women of all racial backgrounds – African, European, Asian, Hispanic, Native American – equal pay according to rank and, with some modifications for Wacs, nearly the same benefits. So greatly did these measures upset fiercely protected racial and gendered boundaries that many Americans considered them downright progressive.

The Ft. Devens case reveals a far different story. Policies that ordered equitable treatment tended to reinforce the status quo along a rigid continuum of racial, gendered, and rank categorizations. Army policies accepted men and women of all racial groups, yet it placed them where officials deemed them best suited, thereby steering white men towards leadership roles and black women into menial duties. It commissioned African

Americans and women as officers, yet prohibited them from command positions over, respectively, white and male troops. (White male officers operated under no such constraints.) The Army offered black soldiers in Europe frontline combat positions, though only after the severe losses in the Battle of the Bulge left inadequate numbers of

922 Only the Army Air Force training retained segregated officer training during the war.

923 The Navy did not extend this offer until 1944 while the Marines held out until 1949.

431 white replacements available.924 Though the WAC had transferred white Wacs overseas since 1942, it sent black Wacs only in the final year of the war, and then just one battalion.925 In sum, the national emergency of World War II forced the War Department to modify its racial and gender policies, yet only enough to meet its needs; namely, to bridge its personnel shortages, secure citizen cooperation for its efforts, and avert racial unrest at home. Otherwise, War Department officials regarded most of its African

American and all of its female personnel as temporary troops for a temporary crisis.

Consequently, it geared their policies to retain pre-war conventions.

At the beginning of the war, the Army insisted that it was “not a Sociological

Laboratory.”926 In fact, it had served as a crucible of social relations at least since the

Civil War when it called on the services of women as scouts and spies in addition to their traditional camp-follower roles as cooks, nurses, and laundresses.927 It also relied on

924 The Battle of the Bulge was fought from December 1944 to January 1945. So desperate was the Army for replacements due to the losses that it offered black volunteers combat duty, albeit in all black platoons integrated into white infantry companies. Over 5500 men volunteered for the 2500 slots available for the project. Overwhelmed by applicants, many willing to suffer rank reductions for the opportunity, the army rescinded the integration aspect of the initiative. Morris J. MacGregor, Jr. Integration of the Armed Forces, 1940-1965, (Washington: Center of Military History, 1981).

925 White Wac units departed for Europe in December of 1942. The black Wac unit was the 6888th Postal Battalion, Mattie E. Treadwell, United States Army in World War II, Special Studies, The Women’s Army Corps. (Washington, D.C.: Department of the Army, 1954), 104.

926 Colonel Eugene R. Householder, Adjutant General’s Department, to Black Press Editors, prepared speech delivered at Editors Conference, 8 December 1941, Ulysses Lee, United States Army in World War II, Special Studies: The Employment of Negro Troops (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Government Printing Office, 1966), 142.

927 The Civil War marks one of the nation’s most desperate periods for troops. Harriet Tubman, the former slave who escaped through the Underground Railroad and returned numerous times to free others, was an important guide for the Union forces in southern territory. Once she led 300 soldiers into South Carolina where she wreaked economic havoc spiriting away 800 slaves after laying waste to cotton crops. The Union also enlisted the services of Sojourner Truth, another ex- 432 African American men and immigrants, the latter representing twelve to thirty percent of its forces until World War I. Initially, these immigrant troops consisted of Catholic Irish and Protestant Germans, though by World War I, the race pool had grown to include

Hungarians, Danes, Russians and others (including Jews) from all over Europe.928

Increasingly, the Army enlisted Mexican, Asian, and Native Americans and, due to their small numbers, assigned them to white units. As it modernized and mechanized, the

Army no longer needed or could accommodate camp followers whose subsequent absence emphasized the masculinity of war. Thus, for nearly a century prior to World

War II, the Army provided a platform for inter-racial relations, a vehicle of social mobility, a designator of citizenship status, and an arbiter of masculine and feminine identities. “Through all these years,” argues historian Thomas Bruscino, “the army was the most diverse institution in American life.”929 During World War II, it added to this legacy with its most ambitious effort to date when it enlisted over eight million men and

slave who knew the territory, and Elizabeth Browser, who provided valuable information as a house slave at the residence of Jefferson Davis, President of the Confederacy. Southerners utilized women as spies, too, including the irrepressible Belle Boyd who managed to escape capture three times and escape to England. The Union Army employed the services of Dorthea Dix and Clara Barton for the health and welfare of its troops. Bernard Nalty, Strength for the Fight: A History of Back American in the Military, (New York: Free Press, 1986), 44. Robin Cross and Rosalind Miles, Warrior Women: 3000 Years of Courage and Heroism. (New York: Metro Books, 2011), 175.

928 During the 1840s and 1850s, up to two-thirds of the U.S. Army soldiers were foreign-born immigrants, mainly from Ireland and Germany, who served together. In the 1870s, British and Canadians increased the diversity. This ratio dropped to just over ten percent from the Spanish American War to the beginning of World War I, although the racial diversity of foreign-born Europeans multiplied to include, among others, Italians, Hungarians, Danes, and Russians. By World War I, immigrants formed over twenty percent of the Army. Thomas A. Bruscino, A Nation Forged in War: How World War II Taught Americans to Get along (Knoxville: University of Tennessee, 2010), 46-47.

929 Bruscino, A Nation Forged in War, 48.

433 women of all races to fight for democracy. Nevertheless, throughout the war, War

Department officials roundly rejected the notion that the Army was a “laboratory to conduct sociological experiments.”930

Of course, the Army was a sociological laboratory, and during the 1940s, it was marking new heights in its experimentation with gender, racial, and class categories.

Fighting two wars forced it to increase its intake of American men of all races while the formal enlistment of women drastically complicated its gender roles and boundaries. It was the Army’s acceptance of African American women, however, that marked its apex as a sociological laboratory. By incorporating over 6,000 citizens so rigidly marginalized at the outermost periphery of society into a force that stipulated fair treatment for all members, the Army unexpectedly had to extend its personnel policies further than it had ever before.931 African American Wacs who enlisted during World War II represented the

Army’s largest and most unexpected variable in this social laboratory.

So unfamiliar was the Army with African American women that its officers assumed that they could subsume black Wacs under its policies for black soldiers and white Wacs. Consequently, they did not prepare for them as they had for these categories or would later when inducting another contested category, Japanese-American women.

Without knowledge of black women or plans for them outside of maintaining segregation, Army missteps mounted. Officers assumed black Wacs were incapable of

930 Col. H.B. Sepulveda, A.G.D. to Director Control, Div. A.G.O., 14 April 1945, RG 407, Stack 270, Row 41, Comp 35/2-3, Box 1063-1064, Entry 363, File: 291.2, NA.

931 The Civil War marked the Army’s highest intake of black men, approximately ten percent of the Union forces by 1963, Elizabeth D. Leonard Men of Color to Arms!: Black Soldiers, Indian Wars, and the Quest for Equality (New York: W.W. Norton &, 2010), 8.

434 learning the skills it most needed, would be content performing menial labor, and would function best in isolated, self-contained units. On all of these accounts, they badly miscalculated. Black Wacs had enlisted to help the war effort, escape menial labor, and expand their roles. They also enlisted expecting the Army to live up to its promises of fair and equitable treatment and came armed with a legacy of activism should it need prodding to do so. From the moment they arrived at Ft. Des Moines, black women resisted attempts at marginalization.

Late in the war, and most notably due to the Ft. Devens strike, the Army began to recognize that it could not completely ignore its black Wacs, and yet it was hemmed in by its own overriding concern to maintain racial segregation. Ironically, this policy precluded officers from enacting a measure that it would have otherwise had, the authority to diffuse their impact by scattering the women among the white units as it did all other non-black troops such as Hispanics and Asians. Through multiple divisions by race and gender, the Army had created a separate corps exclusively of black women.

When these women refused to be isolated and ignored, they forced the Army to recognize them as equal members of its force.

World War II, therefore, showcases both the Army’s attempt to temporarily modify social roles to meet its goals and the resistance of subordinated groups to exploit these modifications in order to advance their status. The interaction between Army officials and black Wacs in particular pushed this dynamic beyond the former’s ability to manage. The Army simply did not have an adequate template, military or civilian, to guide it in its dealings with black women. The same could not be said for black women who historically had to prove their value and fight for their rights. In a fair contest, the 435 Army would have been the underdog. This was not a contest of equals, however, but one of marginalized citizens challenging the status quo. Nevertheless, as the Ft. Devens strike illustrates, the Army provided unique grounds for black enlisted Wacs and Army officers to test the malleability of gender, race, and class constructs.

From the moment they arrived at Ft. Des Moines, Iowa for basic training, Mary

Green, Johnnie Murphy, Alice Young, and Anna Morrison were integral to the social experiment playing out in the Army. Indeed, all black Wacs who served during World

War II were central to it, and on two primary accounts. First, as noted above, their very presence in military uniform required the extension of Army policy into unknown territory. Second, black women’s military experiences directly connected to those of other Wacs and to soldiers of all races and ranks, and, conversely, theirs to them. All

Army personnel, after all, were intrinsically linked by War Department policies that were designed for specific categories of troops. Each one, whether it dealt with combat roles, overseas duty, medical technician training, KP duty, or mess hall seating, required Army policymakers to decide who to include, who to exclude, and who to dismiss from the discussion. By the end of the war, the Army had begun to realize the potential pitfalls of consistently excluding and dismissing black women, though nowhere more resoundingly than during the Ft. Devens Wac strike in 1945.

Because the Ft. Devens case features black Wacs, it illustrates, within the microcosm of the strike and court-martial, the effects of Army policies based on race, rank, and sex on a full spectrum of troops. For instance, policies that insisted on racial segregation and gender separation severely limited black Wacs’ training and assignment opportunities. As a result, black Wacs without qualifications arrived at Ft. Devens to 436 replace white Wacs who held training qualifications, yet were working as orderlies. The presence of the black Wacs, therefore, allowed their white counterparts to move onto more skilled assignments. Policies that allowed white officers to command black officers

(while prohibiting the reverse) and ensured that black WAC companies operate as much as possible as self-contained units could disrupt the ordinary flow of the chain of command. At Ft. Devens, the uncertainty of who was in charge of the black enlisted

Wacs contributed to the lack of responsibility that Crandall, Lawson, and Stoney assumed for these women under their command. Furthermore, the case suggests that the high- ranking officers who directed subordinate officers to treat all troops fairly tended to opt out of working with black troops, male or female. When Major General Sherman Miles, commander of the First Service Command, had questions about the black soldiers in his command, he called upon a prominent civilian, Julian Steele, the president of Boston’s

NAACP, for advice. When tasked to accept a detachment of black Wacs, he ordered a subordinate, Colonel Crandall, to handle the situation at Ft. Devens, a forty mile drive from his headquarters in Boston. As commanding general, it stands to reason that Miles’ high-level duties would typically involve more officers than enlisted personnel, yet he had a responsibility to his troops, too, and he had but one black Wac detachment to consider. The First Service Command’s director of Wacs, Major Elizabeth Stearns, was even more directly responsible for these women than Miles, yet she seemed to have had little to do with them once signing off on Crandall’s initial requisition for them. Most of the Wacs, therefore, had no idea who Stearns was when she appeared at Ft. Devens during the strike.

437 The Ft. Devens strike demonstrates how the induction of women into the Army, which immediately doubled the existing racial fracture within its forces, further taxed the

Army’s racial segregation policies. The result was additional wastefulness and inefficiency. Since mid-1944 when the black Wacs at Ft. Devens had enlisted, the Army had been desperately seeking additional Wac recruits, especially due to its shortage of medical technicians. The WAC responded through lavish spending on recruiting campaigns, and yet, all the while, it had thousands of black Wacs who it could have potentially tapped for training in this area. Segregation policies and the ideology that helped sustain them routinely dismissed this valuable source and directed black Wacs to menial labor instead. Therefore, despite the well-publicized shortage of medical personnel and War Department’s orders to use civilians for such work and free uniformed personnel for military tasks, the Army assigned many of its black Wacs to clean hospital floors and pushed food carts. This included Alice Young who had a year of nurse’s training and the three qualified medical technicians who languished at Ft. Devens for a month. Regardless of the urgency, no military hospital desired the services of black Wacs in this role. It was an astounding waste of personnel, yet the Army did not see it this way.

Instead it held firm that racial integration would not work in the military.

In fact, the Army was extraordinarily successful in integrating Americans of other racial backgrounds in its “white” forces. This included Southern and Eastern Europeans.

In the 1950s and 1960s, the term “ethnicity” would come into broader use to soften the edges between European identities, but in the 1940s, Americans defined, for instance,

Italians and Hungarians as separate races. Neither yet qualified as white. Historian David

Roediger has classified Southern and Eastern Europeans during this period of their 438 emerging privileged status as “in-between whites. Contemporaries had other labels for them, including dagos, hunkies, wops, and polacks.932 Such derisive terms handily referenced old-world customs, odd languages, and suspect appearances complete with

“swarthy” skin. During World War II, the Army also integrated into its “white” forces

Americans of Jewish, Mexican, and Asian lineage as well as Pacific Islanders and Native

Americans.933 These races also suffered from offensive stereotyping that mocked them as

“the avaricious Jew,” the lazy Mexican, or the sly Asian. The Army, however, needed them all and, except for Puerto Rican and Japanese-American troops, integrated them into its “white” Army.

The Army required unity among its diverse troops, and the travesties of the fascist’s dictatorships they were fighting provided a natural impetus to elicit it. American troops understood their mission as one protecting world democracy. The Army further encouraged this patriotic solidarity by promoting themes of racial tolerance and the

United States as a melting pot of races. Resurrecting its Americanization programs that it first initiated during World War I, the Army produced leaflets, magazines, and films that celebrated interracial camaraderie among its soldiers and Wacs, especially those on the white side of its segregated force.

932 David R. Roediger, Working toward Whiteness: How America’s Immigrants Became White; The Strange Journey from Ellis Island to the Suburbs (New York: Basic Books, 2005).

933 Combined, the majority of these non-European categories made up just 1.6 percent of the Army’s forces: Native Americans, Puerto Ricans, Mexicans, Chinese, Hawaiians, Filipino and Japanese. Suzanne Mettler, Soldiers to Citizens: The G.I. Bill and the Making of the Greatest Generation (Oxford, New York: Oxford University Press, 2005), 29.

439 In contrast, the Army fiercely resisted integrating African Americans with the rest of its forces. A constant stream of racial incidents and an increasingly forceful civil rights movement led the Army to incrementally integrate post facilities and training programs, though it did so largely to fend off having to do more. For a brief moment, the Ft. Devens court-martial seemed a landmark case for the cause as it had so rapidly and widely increased awareness of the problems with segregation. As one commentator effused, it was possibly “one of the leading court-martial cases of this war.”934 The War Department quickly preempted the discussion by dismissing the charges, prompting the case to, just as quickly, fade from the news. Concerned over proposals for post-war integration efforts, the War Department mounted a strong defense. Even as the Navy and Air Force were preparing to integrate after the war, the Army steadfastly refused to consider it, at least, it claimed, not until the rest of the country had integrated.

While the military was blocking attempts to integrate black and white troops, soldiers and Wacs were responding to three of its initiatives, unique to the Army, that encouraged relationships based on respect and equality among all troops. First, the uniformity of the Army modeled the innovative concept of equal pay for equal rank, regardless of the race or gender. Second, under pressure from media and the public, the

Army instituted regulations prohibiting racism. Despite their lack of enforcement measures, these policies were on the books and thus contributed to making outright racism in the Army taboo. Third, the limited spatial areas of military posts led to

934 Marty Richardson, “Ft. Devens Wacs Have Two Day Trial,” The Boston Chronicle, 21 March 1945.

440 unavoidable interracial interactions. Army policies typically placed black soldiers on the furthermost perimeters, yet the 4,000 black soldiers stationed at Ft. Devens during the strike shared the same post administrative offices, hospitals, PXs, and transportation facilities as other personnel. Meanwhile, their female counterparts, who as Wacs were expected to replace soldiers in everyday base operations, lived and worked in the main thoroughfare of the hospital area located near post headquarters. At Lovell Hospital

South, therefore, black women daily interacted with white military personnel and civilians, not as domestics (despite their duties) but as military personnel on the same salary scale as others of the same rank and subject to the same protocols.

The Ft. Devens strike shows how conflicts arose during these interactions, but also how relationships were gradually taking root. Young was on friendly terms with her ward man, Eugene Beale, and the supervisor of enlisted personnel at Lovell Hospital

South, John Froias. The two WAC lieutenants, Stoney and Lawson, had a professional relationship in which they occasionally worked together and consulted each other. Stoney spoke of occasionally dining in the mess hall with Crandall. As an officer, this black woman was part of the elite class of personnel on base. By all accounts, the black Wacs at Ft. Devens claimed that they liked and got along with the majority of the white ward men, nurses, and civilians on their wards. Before the strike, the feeling was mutual. At least one officer endorsed Young for medical training while another attempted to let her and other black Wacs help with medical duties, that is, until Crandall put an end to such initiatives.

Similar interracial encounters between black Wacs and whites were occurring in other places where black Wacs were stationed. In Europe, the white general who had 441 once prepared charges against the black Wac captain, Charity Adams, made a point to see her before he departed to the United States. Adams had surprised him with her counter- charge, and this had impressed him. As he told her, “Working with you has been an education to me, especially about Negroes.” The experience was a new one for him, he admitted, for “the only Negroes I have ever known personally were those who were in the servant capacity or my subordinates in the Army.”935 In Chicago, civilian protests over the stationing of black Wacs at Gardiner Hospital faded after the Army refused to back down. Thereafter, a smooth transition fostered congenial relations between the Wacs and the civilians. Indeed, a group of citizens assured Secretary of War Henry Stimson that opposition to the black Wac company “comes only from a small group in our community” and did “not represent the enlightened opinion” of the majority of residents around the hospital.936 Back at Ft. Devens, a white Wac, who was extremely critical of the black Wac orderlies involved in the strike, praised her black nurses for their hard work. If her effusive comments about the nurses were designed to counter suspicions of racism towards the orderlies, they nevertheless indicated a willingness to recognize the abilities of other black women.937 Throughout the Army, working relationships were developing across racial and gender lines despite segregation policies.

935 Charity Adams Earley, One Woman's Army: A Black Officer Remembers the WAC. (College Station, Texas, A&M University Press, 1989), 192.

936 Virginia Spence, Chairman, West Hyde Park Independent Voters of Illinois to Henry Stimson, 30 June 1045, RG 407, Stack 270, Row 21, Comp 35, Entry 363, File 291.2, Box 1062, NA.

937 Major Eileen Murphy, interview, War Department Investigation.

442 African American servicewomen were the largest minority in the WAC, though not the only women segregated in the military. Late in the war, the Army required replacements for its Spanish-speaking soldiers it needed elsewhere. To meet this demand, the WAC recruited women in Puerto Rico where, in April 1944, it inducted 200 of the over 1,500 women who applied. According to WAC historian Mattie Treadwell, the corps planned to integrate the new recruits into white units as they did most other Wacs.

Language issues made this impractical, however, so the WAC kept them in one unit to work as translators and clerks.938 Japanese women were experiencing segregation of another kind, as relocation camp internees. Following the Army’s lead, it had refused to enlist them, fearing potential saboteurs. Desperate for Japanese-language translators later in the war, the Army reversed the ban, and the WAC began recruiting Japanese American women. In contrast to the automatic segregation of African Americans, officers consulted white Wacs over the matter of integrating Japanese recruits into their units. The women responded enthusiastically. For their part, Japanese American women insisted that their enlistment was contingent on placement into white units. One declared, “This is a democracy. We are Americans citizens. There is no sense to segregation.” A group of women spoke of the “demoralizing effect,” segregation would have on them, one simply

938 Mattie E. Treadwell, United States Army in World War II, Special Studies, The Women’s Army Corps. (Washington, D.C.: Department of the Army, 1954), 589. Recent works are adding to the scholarship of the Puerto Rican WAC Company 6, 2nd Battalion, though much of it is in Spanish. "LAS WACS-Participation de la Mujer Boricua en la Segunda Guerra Mundial" (The WACs: The Participation of the Puerto Rican Women in the Second World War) is a rare autobiographical account by one who served in the WAC. It has yet to be translated. Judith Bellafaire, Also see “The Contributions of Hispanic Servicewomen,” http://www.womensmemorial.org/Education/HisHistory.html and “Puerto Rican Servicewomen in Defense of the Nation, http://www.womensmemorial.org/Education/PRHistory.html, from the Women In Military Service For America Memorial Foundation, Inc. (accessed 16 July 2013).

443 mumbling under her breath, “racial discrimination.”939 As there were no objections from either party, the Army integrated Japanese American Wacs into white units.940 While

Army officials maintained that “segregation is not discrimination,” Japanese Americans and African Americans, who were personally familiar with the practice, knew that they were one and the same.

Nearly two weeks after the release of Johnnie Murphy, Anna Morrison, Alice

Young, and Mary Green from their confinement over their role in the strike, the Army drafted a response to a proposed congressional bill to integrate the armed forces. In his comments to the Adjutant General’s office, Colonel H.B. Sepulveda reiterated the War

Department’s stance that segregation was necessary and had “proven to be wise and equitable over a long period of years.” He acknowledged that while “small numbers of persons of other races have been placed in white units,” Filipino and Japanese soldiers were also segregated into their own units. The Army, therefore, was not singling out

African Americans. In any case, he argued that “with few exceptions,” segregation was favored by African Americans. He then warned that if banned, “military training, discipline, and esprit de corps” would greatly suffer, and “real and fancied incidents” that had previously sparked unrest would intensify. The colonel concluded that given the importance of the Army and its mission to the country, “to use it as a laboratory to conduct social experiment[s] is regarded as a dangerous departure that would be

939 Ibid., Exhibit A, “Reasons given by American Japanese Women for not wanting to be kept in a separate unit if the Women’s Army Auxiliary Corp should be opened to them.”

940 The WAC set a quota of five hundred Japanese Americans. After six months of recruiting, just thirteen had enlisted. Treadwell, The Women’s Army Corps, 589. 444 detrimental to national defense.”941 As Sepulveda’s response to the bill demonstrates, the

War Department was repeating, to a word, the same reasons it gave for opposing racial integration four years earlier.

On the other hand, a movement was afoot to integrate women more fully into the

Army that would unexpectedly lead to the WAC’s racial integration.942 In July 1945,

WAC director Colonel Oveta Hobby resigned, and Westray Boyce replaced her. Boyce was determined to follow through on Hobby’s commitment to dissolve the WAC after the war as Congress had directed when it created the corps. The War Department, however, was having second thoughts about terminating its female force. Asserting that “the war has shown that the utilization of women in times of war is a necessary and accepted fact,” it soon appealed to Congress to reestablish the WAC as a permanent force.943 Congress eventually conceded, and in 1948, President Harry Truman signed the Women’s Armed

Force Integration Act. It stipulated that the WAC would remain a separate corps, yet one more firmly rooted in the Regular Army.944 Two years later, the WAC racially integrated, a result of its much reduced size. With just 7,000 members, down from over 90,000 three years earlier, segregation was no longer feasible. As a result, a full four years before the

941 Col. H.B. Sepulveda, A.G.D. to Director Control, Div. A.G.O., 14 April 1945, RG 407, Stack 270, Row 41, Comp 35/2-3, Box 1063-1064, Entry 363, File: 291.2, NA.

942 Germany surrendered in May 1945 and Japan in August.

943 Bettie J. Morden, Army Historical Series: The Women’s Army Corps, 1945-1978 (Washington D.C.: U.S. Government Printing Office, 1992), 33.

944 The “integration” aspect of the Act reflected the closer connection with the Regular Army, though the corps remained separate from it until 1978. The WAC racially integrate in 1950.

445 Regular Army disbanded its last all-black unit, Wacs of different racial backgrounds were training, working, and living together.945

Did the black Wacs at Ft. Devens and their strike hasten desegregation in the

Army? In fact, no one group or event could have on its own dislodged one of the Army’s most entrenched and defended policies. Even as the other services were taking steps in this direction, the Army continued to fight hard against integration.946 For nearly a half decade after World War II, it succeeded. In the end, it took the full weight of the civil rights movement; northern democrats’ interest in the black vote; a presidential directive announcing intentions to integrate the armed services (Executive Order 9981); and, most importantly, the personnel demands of a war in Korea to at last bring down the curtain on formal segregation in the Army.947

If African Americans women were not a singular influence in the racial integration of the military, they collectively contributed to its demise. As civilians, they were effective campaigners, whether working to release the Ft. Devens Wacs or endorsing a favored political candidate. Consequently, they were at least half of the increasingly important black voting block that Truman courted during his 1948 election

945 WAC integration followed the end to the quota system that had limited African Americans to ten percent of the military. Black Wacs never reached anywhere near their full quota, usually falling under half that. With the drawdown of the WAC after the war, separate training programs, barracks, base facilities, and assignments were too impractical. According to Morden, Wacs welcomed the change. Bettie J. Morden, History of the Women's Army Corps, 85-86.

946 Richard M. Dalfiume, Desegregation of the U.S. Armed Forces: Fighting on Two Fronts, 1939-1953 (Columbia, Missouri: University of Missouri Press, 1969), 195.

947 Truman issued Executive Order 9981 on 26 July 1948 in order to end racial discrimination in the military.

446 bid. (The timing of his Executive Order 9981 to desegregate the military months before the election was no small coincidence.) As Wacs, black women were in the thick of the struggle to establish a bridgehead in the military from which to assert their citizen rights.

Having volunteered in a segregated force, most were not openly challenging the policy, but rather insisting that this system deliver on Army promises to treat them as it did white

Wacs. Of course, under segregation, the Army could not meet this obligation. The Ft.

Devens enlisted orderlies were not the only black Wacs to demonstrate the contradictions between separate and equal policies during the war, yet their plight gained the most publicity, and that national attention endowed their action with several unique legacies.

The strike’s impact may be most directly recognized at Gardiner Hospital, a military facility in Chicago, Illinois. As the Ft. Devens strike unfolded, the Army was preparing to send a unit of black Wacs to a white residential area of Hyde Park. Though correspondence regarding the transfer does not mention the strike, it indicates that the well-publicized incident figured heavily into its plans. Whereas the Army simply ordered

Crandall to requisition a detachment of Wacs and then left him to manage the new unit as he saw fit, it engaged his Gardiner Hospital counterpart in extensive preparations for the transfer. The memorandum exchanged between the Army command and the hospital administration prior to sending the women details a collaborative interest in avoiding a similar debacle. In a letter dated April 30, 1945, nearly a month after the dismissal of the charges at Ft. Devens, the Army ordered that any “foreseeable problems in connection with housing and utilization of the negro WAC personnel – be identified and reported.”

447 Three full pages of recommendations, in small type, followed.948 Subsequently, a July 9 memorandum of another four pages specifically named and outlined the possible roles, duties, and supervisory authorities for the incoming black Wacs. Rather than allowing an unbalanced requisition of orderlies, the Army sent medical and surgical technicians, too.949 In the wake of the strike, the Army was advising its white officers at Gardiner

Hospital to attend to the working conditions and proper treatment of the black Wacs.

According to historian Martha Putney – who was also the commanding officer of the black Wacs at Gardiner Hospital – the hospital’s commanding officer “accepted the women as trained medical and surgical technicians and used them as such.”950 Morale soared among those stationed at Gardiner Hospital. The company’s first sergeant, Sylvia

Cookman, and others later recounted how they appreciated the lack of overt racism.

Indeed, civic groups apologized for the behavior of their neighbors, and even Chicago’s mayor, Edward J. Kelly, offered the women “good wishes as you commence your noble work in the service of your country and humanity.”951 Army and WAC officials monitored the situation; both the commander of the Sixth Command and Colonel Boyce

948 Gardiner Hospital was slated to receive a detachment of black Wacs even before the Ft. Devens strike. Memorandum, From John R. Hall, Colonel MC, Commanding to Commanding Genera, Hq. Sixth Service Command, Chicago, Ill. Subject: Utilization of Negro WAC personnel at Gardiner general Hospital, 30 April 1945, National Archives for Black Women’s History, Washington, D.C., 038_S03_B02_F006_part.

949 Memorandum No. 9, From Army Service Forces, Sixth Service Command, Gardiner General Hospital to “All Personnel Concerned, 9 July 1945. National Archives for Black Women’s History, Washington, D.C., 038_S03_B02_F006_part.

950 Martha S. Putney, When the Nation Was In Need: Blacks in the Women’s Army Corp during World War II (Metuchen, New Jersey: The Scarecrow Press, 1992), 91.

951 Ibid.

448 were among the dignitaries who personally visited the hospital. Interest in the success of this experiment, notes Martha Putney, no doubt encouraged the commander of the hospital “to do his part to ensure its success.”952

On the national stage, the Ft. Devens strike publicized the role of black women in the service more than any other case or event with immediate results. In addition to increasing awareness of segregation’s pernicious effects, it alerted white Americans to the patriotic contributions of African American women in uniform. Given the extensive preparations at Gardiner Hospital, the strike obviously compelled the Army to recognize black Wacs’ as a distinct identity rather than as subcomponents of its black soldier and white Wac forces. The strike apparently also convinced the Army that black women would speak out if they sensed discrimination. Furthermore, the widespread media attention and the interest of the civil rights leaders in the strike put the Army on notice that black Wacs were not on their own. Consequently, it wisely decided to forgo the appeal of the strike at Ft. Devens and dismiss the charges of the four Wacs. By this time, however, Young, Morrison, Green, and Murphy had made their case to their contemporaries. Apparently, this included the Fahy Committee members who Truman appointed in 1948 to study the impact of segregation in the military.953 Among the material they collected and surveyed are numerous mentions of the Ft. Devens strike.

952 Ibid., 93.

953 Truman issued Executive Order 9981 in July 19548, thereby establishing the Committee on Equality of Treatment and Opportunity in the Armed Services. Chaired by Charles Fahy, it was commonly referred to as the Fahy Committee.

449 Though usually part of other incidences, accounts of the case appear frequently enough to showcase for the men the inequities and inefficiencies of segregation at Ft. Devens.954

The strike and the documentation it generated also lends greater insight into the early history of the WAC – its personnel, its racial and gender policies, and the effects of those policies on its female members as well as on the Army’s personnel. Certainly, neither black nor white Wacs were a monolithic group. Many members of each found their military work important for the country and personally rewarding while others in both camps did not. Overall, however, as the Ft. Devens strike of black Wacs illustrates, white Wacs had more flexibility of training and availability of jobs than did black Wacs.

White Wacs had the advantage of being quickly deployed – and in the numbers required

– to fill Army needs as they arose. In contrast, Morrison, Young, Green, Murphy, and their cohorts waited at Ft. Des Moines three to four months for an assignment. This was due in part to blatant prejudices of commanders who did not want black women on their post, but also to military policies. Transferred as large units and subject to overlapping

Army regulations for African Americans and female troops, black Wacs were difficult to place and accommodate. On the other hand, Wacs of all racial backgrounds faced similar challenges as women in uniform, from stringent WAC morality codes to sexual harassment.

Despite the experiences common to all women in the service, the emphasis on racial difference severely impeded a sense of female solidarity that would have otherwise

954 Truman Library, Independence, MO. Records of the President's Committee on Equality of Treatment and Opportunity in the Armed Services (Record Group 220).

450 naturally taken root. At Ft. Devens, collegiality between black and white Wacs seems to have been minimal at best as no black or white enlisted Wacs worked in the same hospital. Wacs on other posts rarely mention regular interactions with their counterparts of another race. Separated and isolated, black and white Wacs had different jobs, schedules, and even rapports with their officers. At Ft. Devens, the white enlisted Wacs seemed to have been chums with 1Lt. Lawson and on good terms with Colonel Crandall, the two officers who had demonstrated little interest in the black Wacs who were also under their command. Military policies that impeded black Wac mobility, assignments, and morale could conversely elevate the status of white Wacs.

The Ft. Devens court-martial also illustrates how the combined forces of civil and

Army policies affected black Wacs who enlisted in the military. Underfunded, segregated primary schools led to low Army test scores that limited the women’s assignment possibilities. Segregation in the military compounded the effect by blocking even those with adequate scores and training from advanced assignments, as it did the three technicians assigned to Ft. Devens. Working in tandem, civilian and military segregation policies funneled black Wacs into menial labor, and this in turn led to black Wacs’ low morale and greater number of disciplinary issues as compared to white Wacs. Together, civilian and military policies projected black Wacs as persons of low intelligence, limited skills, and a propensity to challenge officers over their assignments and treatment.

Through public-policy driven consequences, many military officials interpreted such failings as natural outgrowths of black women’s deficiencies. As seen at Ft. Devens,

Crandall and others assumed that the black Wacs on post had entered the service with the same opportunities as other Wacs and on an equal footing with all other Army service 451 members. Nearly all enlisted personnel, after all, entered as privates. As in civilian life, it was then up to each individual to advance through the ranks. Viewed through this popular understanding, most Americans assumed that the nation offered unfettered opportunities for hardy, hard-working, and self-reliant citizens. Certainly, the military’s uniform policies provided all recruits the same possibilities to advance. As state polices applied to all equally, individual success required individual initiative. Within this prism, the existing wide social gaps among citizens according to their race, sex, and economic class could be seen as a reflection of organic categories. These categories, in turn, ensured appropriate roles and social stability for all citizens because everyone had a unique and an acknowledged function in society.

During the 1940s, the spectacular growth and financial power of the young nation seemed proof that hard working individuals could socially and economically succeed, if not in one generation, then in another. Many Americans viewed the progress of

Americans of Southern and Eastern European heritage as evidence of the unlimited possibilities for all hard-working Americans. Given the remaining widespread social disparities, they also argued that while the state could ensure equal opportunities, it could not alter the inborn characteristics and natural abilities of different categories of people.

By extension, if most African American women were menial laborers, they were obviously naturally suited for this kind of work and, conversely, for little else.

World War II was a watershed moment for upward mobility for many Americans, though not as advantageously for African Americans who remained excluded from many opportunities through formal and informal segregation practices. As late as the 1920s and

1930s, American society was deeply fragmented along racial lines that kept Anglo- 452 whites, Italians, Irish, Czechs, Poles, and others of European ancestry apart. During

World War II, when the state needed a united country to fight the war, it eschewed these rivalries as un-American and urged citizens to unite in the military and on factory floors to win the war. Historian Thomas Bruscino argues that, “It was no small thing that in postwar America the vast numbers of white ethnic and religious groups came to get along. And it was all because of the war.”955

Indeed, Army policies directly fostered much of the solidarity among the personnel of its white forces. Most were of European descent, yet “white” units might also consist of those of Asian and Hispanic heritage as well as Native Americans and

Pacific Islanders. The Army insisted that live, train, and fight together, thereby building a sense of camaraderie among these troops. As personal relationship took root, they learned that they had more in common with those of other races than not. After all, they were all

Americans. Soldiers and Wacs spoke of the wonder and pride over mixed-raced units of

“Italians, Jews, Irish, French, and WASP.”956 Harsh lines of racial differences were beginning to give way to the notion of “ethnic groups,” especially among European-

Americans.957 Hollywood and Department of War films assisted the Army’s intentions by depicting the mixed heritage of its forces. A radio broadcast that blended excerpts from

GI letters home, for instance, warned Hitler of the solidarity of its multi-racial force:

955 Bruscino, A Nation Forged in War, 16.

956 Roediger, Working toward Whiteness, 76; WASP did not carry the same “whiteness” connotation it does today. At the time, it referred to working class, low-skilled, migrants from the South. Bruscino, A Nation Forged in War, 78.

957 Coined in 1964, “ethnicity” was so not a term used in the 1940s. Roediger, Working toward Whiteness, 18-23.

453 “Chinese, Italians, Greeks, Bohemian, British, Mexican … they’re all Americans now

Adolf – and all against you.”958 As race lines relaxed among the various recruits on the white-side of the Army, they remained just as rigid in regards to African Americans.

Increasingly party to the privileges of whiteness, whites and emerging whites, the latter courtesy of an Army that slotted them in its white force, questioned why African

Americans’ living standards, employment, and education continued to lag so far behind those of other Americans.

These lags, however, were not as natural as contemporaries assumed, but a result of state policies. In 1896, the Plessy v. Ferguson Supreme Court decision sanctioned the

South’s segregation policies. The restrictions it created and brutally enforced impeded the rights of African Americans to send their children to good schools, invest in property as homeowners, fairly compete for access to jobs, and access ballot boxes to block similar laws. By the end of World War II, especially as prison camps began revealing the unseemly horror that racial policies had wrought in Europe and Asia, many whites were less willing to turn a blind eye to Jim Crow policies. Even as more Americans viewed overt racism as repugnant, however, few were aware that even liberal policies also divided Americans into separate categories. Entrenched in the rhetoric of individual freedom and free market capitalism, liberal agendas also privileged middle class whites, especially white men, and excluded African Americans, especially Africa American women.

958 Bruscino, A Nation Forged in War, 61.

454 During the Great Depression of the 1930s, Roosevelt’s New Deal agenda created a series of entitlements for Americans that ultimately benefitted most Americans who were middle class, white, and male. Because these policies did not mention race, however, they appeared colorblind. Furthermore, because Congress expected that male recipients supported families, they expected these policies to help women as well. The

New Deal was not so equally balanced on either account. For instance, the Federal

Housing Administration Act of 1934 (FHA) insured mortgages, yet it also endorsed red- lining and housing covenants that excluded Africa Americans. As a result, the vast majority of FHA funds flowed to white homeowners.959 Similarly, the Social Security

Act of 1935 ceded benefits, including pensions and disability entitlements, to many workers though not agricultural and domestic laborers, thereby excluding most African

Americans, men and women. As the intended target for New Deal policies, white men were better able to secure jobs protected by federal laws than African Americans and women. Likewise, as the acknowledged family breadwinners, white men were better candidates for family wage employment than their wives. Consequently, white males proved far better investments for home mortgages than their wives, unmarried white women, and minorities of either sex. Overall, the New Deal promoted and privileged white patriarchy.

After the war, the Servicemen’s Readjustment Act of 1944 maintained this course. Popularly known as the GI Bill, this massive government package entitled World

959 By 1944, housing covenants reserved much of metropolitan areas for whites, as much as 80 percent in major cities, thereby restricting African Americans to increasingly crowded urban centers, Roediger, Working toward Whiteness, 176.

455 War II veterans to a host of benefits, including education grants, federally backed low interest mortgage loans for homes, reemployment rights, civil service preference, and healthcare. Promoted as an equal opportunity measure, it offered generous benefits to all honorably discharged veterans who had served at least ninety days, regardless of race, sex, rank, or participation in combat duty. Most recipients of this government largess were white, heterosexual males.960 As the structure of the bill’s benefits infers, this was less an oversight than the intention of its framers.

In her later years, perhaps regretting not using her benefits, former Wac Ann

Bertini reflected that she thought the GI Bill was “for the men.”961 In fact, the bill was geared towards men. While nearly 16 million Americans had served in uniform, fewer than 350,000 were women.962 Of those, just 332,000 had served in services that entitled them to the GI Bill.963 A major obstacle for eligible females was the convention that marked men as breadwinners and women as housewives and mothers. For instance, the

GI Bill automatically entitled male veterans to additional funds for dependents whereas

960 The GI Bill was designed to be expansive and generous. In this spirit, it extended its benefits to those who held blue discharges, with the one exception of those discharged due to homosexuality. Mettler, Soldiers to Citizens, 65.

961 Ibid., 150.

962 As noted throughout the text, many factors lessened the number of women in the service: social mores against women in the military, social customs that urged women to care for elderly and younger relatives, domestic factory production and home front needs, and the more exacting requirements for women than for men regarding age, parental permission, educational, and dependents.

963 Members of the Women’s Auxiliary Army Corps were eligible only if they reenlisted in the WAC during the changeover in 1943. The Army had not incorporated the Women Airforce Service Women’s Pilots (WASP) into its Air Corps, so these women were also ineligible.

456 female veterans had to first prove they were the main support of a child or husband.964

Even when two veterans married and put off children so both could attend school, the state insisted on the man’s superior earning authority. Ex-Wac Anne Bosanko earned a

$55 monthly stipend when she attended college on the GI Bill. Her husband, also a veteran attending college, earned $90 a month. The Veterans’ Administration expected a wife to be dependent on husband for support and geared it funding policies to assure it.965

GI reemployment rights that gave veterans access to their former jobs and considered their service when they applied for civil service jobs also benefited white males far more than other citizens. First, it put pressure on the women who had replaced them to vacate their jobs and make room for those returning from military service. These veterans, overwhelmingly male, also had civil service preferences over non-veterans, overwhelmingly female. From 1946 to 1947, the percentage of women working in the civil service sector decreased from 38 percent to 24 percent.966 The effects were long term and gender-based. Despite high scores and a long career in the government, Helen

Feeney continually found her bid for jobs overridden by veterans with much less experience and knowledge about the positions than she had.967 Women veterans could

964 Though the Veteran’s Administration automatically accepted wives as dependents, it rarely accepted men as consider husbands as dependent on their wives.

965 Lizabeth Cohen, A Consumers’ Republic: The Politics of Mass Consumption in Postwar America (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2003), 138.

966 Susan M. Hartmann, the Home Front and Beyond: American Women in the 1940s (Boston: Twayne Publishers, 1982), 44.

967 Linda K. Kerber, No Constitutional Right to Be Ladies: Women and Obligations of Citizenship.(New York: Hill & Wang, 1998), 224.

457 also made use of their employment benefits, and many did. By 1947, 41,000 were working civil service employees. Some, however, found that their military service worked against them, as noted by the 150 New Yorkers who reported sexual discrimination as they sought jobs.968 Non-veteran women also benefitted indirectly as dependents of veterans. Overall, women were just three percent of all veterans. The GI

Bill, created for those who served, therefore, diminished their economic independence by inhibiting their access to well-paying employment and job promotions.

With so many veterans taking advantage of the GI Bill, an advanced education was also becoming a major factor in economic viability. By the late 1940s, Uncle Sam was footing the bill for a full half of all college tuitions. The overwhelming majority of these millions of students were white men.969 Women veterans applied to schools in proportional numbers as to their numbers in the services yet, on average drew on their education benefits two years fewer than their male counterparts.970 They also pursued a narrower category of studies, mainly business programs with an emphasis on clerical and accounting skills, as they rushed through programs before marriages or in between babies. For many women, by the time they could use the funds, the nine-year limitation had expired. In contrast, men spent three to four years in programs that offered greater

968 Hartmann, Home Front and Beyond, 44.

969 Ibid., 106, Hartmann notes that there were 2.3 million students in 1947, half of them vets. Also see Mettler, Soldiers to Citizens, 158.

970 Ibid., 152.

458 compensatory salaries after graduation. Indeed, the GI Bill was structured to accommodate men and their role in securing good jobs to support families.971

The GI Bill’s educational benefits helped to quickly reinforce the pre-war gender hierarchy. Colleges were eager to enroll male veterans who had guaranteed government tuitions along with living stipends that enabled them to study full time, and they made room for men at the expense of women.972 In 1940, women had earned over 40 percent of all college diplomas, but by 1950, they earned just 25 percent.973 Compared to other countries where government educational benefits were not based on military service,

American women were also losing ground. In 1920, 47 percent of American college students were women. In 1958, this percentage decreased to 35 percent, making “the

United States the only country where the proportion of women attaining high education was decreasing.”974

African American men also did not fare as well from the GI Bill multiple entitlements as white males. This was in part because so many more had not qualified for military service. Whereas the Army rejected 28 percent of white recruits, it rejected 41 percent of African Americans.975 African American men were also more likely to suffer

971 Mettler, Soldiers to Citizens, 150.

972 Setting quotas that limited the number of women students, such as capping off female medical school allotments at five percent for women, proved one effective method, Mettler, Soldiers to Citizens, 155.

973 Ibid; Hartmann, Home Front and Beyond, 107.

974 Paula Giddings, When and Where I Enter…: The Impact of Black Women on Race and Sex in America (New York: William Morrow, 1984), 243.

975 Soldiers had to pass physical exams and literacy tests. Mettler, Soldiers to Citizens, 29.

459 dishonorable discharges than white soldiers; therefore, a significantly higher proportion of ex-black servicemen were ineligible for the GI Bill compared to white male veterans.

For those who did qualify, segregation could prove a devastating blow to their aspirations. Poor funding of their primary education often lessened their educational options. Most southern and some northern schools refused to admit even those who were academically suitable. Similarly, insurance companies and banks typically denied financing for the mortgages they sought. A 1947 survey of thirteen Mississippi cities found that African Americans secured just 2 out of the 3,229 approved housing loans. In the northern state of New York and in parts of New Jersey, black homeowners could claim fewer than 100 GI backed loans out of 67,000 approved.976 By 1950, fully 25 percent of the federal expenses went to funding veteran programs, yet relatively little of this $8 billion went to African Americans.977

African American Wacs shared these obstacles experienced by veteran Wacs and black soldiers, yet, as both black and female, the effects differed. Because so few had enlisted, the GI Bill had, as historian Susan Hartmann notes, a “negligible” effect on this category of citizens.978 On the other hand, the opportunities for higher education after the war brought many black women to college campuses. Black women, Wacs and civilians,

976 Ira Katznelson, When Affirmative Action Was White: An Untold History of Racial Inequality in Twentieth Century America (New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 2005), 140.

977 Kathleen Frydl, The GI Bill, (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009), 3; Hartmann, for instance, notes that the GI Bill helped to finance over $13 billion worth of property, an investment from which mainly white men and their families would benefit. Hartmann, Home Front and Beyond, 166.

978 Ibid., 108.

460 expected to work for pay, and the desire to escape domestic servitude proved a strong incentive to enroll in colleges at proportionally higher high rates than either black men or white women. In 1953, for example, 62.4 percent of graduates from black colleges alone were women. At the same time, white women represented just a third (33.4 percent) of all graduates in all colleges. Black women’s college rates therefore compare with those of white men, both earning two-thirds of the diplomas in their racial groups. Significantly, most of these male students were drawing on the GI Bill’s federal benefits, whereas black women who attended college did not normally have this level of support.979 Of course, the veterans among them did use their education entitlements and others tapped the VA for their health, employment, and other benefits. This included the Wacs court-martialed at Ft. Devens. Anna Morrison used the GI Bill to finance a nursing degree. Mary Green took advantage of the GI health services for at least a decade after her separation from the service. Alice Young opted for the reemployment benefit and returned to her

Washington, D.C. job.

As a microcosm of black women’s experiences in the military during World War

II, the Ft. Devens strike demonstrates the ability of the state to create categories of citizens and manipulate presumed differences among them. It also shows how state policies – from the New Deal to military regulations to the GI Bill – fed into each other to reinforce racial disadvantage. Most importantly, the strike episode reveals the high price

Americans have paid for a social hierarchy that segmented populations. Despite the severe shortage of combat soldiers and of Wacs to free soldiers for the front-lines, the

979 Giddings, When and Where I Enter, 245.

461 Army refused to train or utilize most of its black Wacs for meaningful tasks. As seen at

Ft. Devens, it was a hard blow for black Wacs: over forty risked a mass strike to make their point, four attempted suicide, and another four opted for a court-martial over returning to their jobs. After the war, these and other Wacs who the Army so underutilized left the service, attended school, worked jobs, raised families, assisted their communities, and led productive lives. The cost to the Army that so frequently dismissed this population is immeasurable.

Additionally, the Ft. Devens incident further uncovers the cost of white privilege to its supposed beneficiaries. The state’s fear of arming black men with guns and refusal to send them to the front-lines guaranteed that white men would fall disproportionately in combat. Nearly 300,000 white soldiers died during the war and countless others lived with the horrors of war for decades afterwards. These men paid an especially heavy price for the white privilege of front-line duty combat. False constructions of differences would lead to further social fissures in the nation as a combination of the New Deal and GI Bill merged to widen the gaps between the races. During the 1950s and 1960s, Americans were fighting once again, though this time with each other in the courts and in the streets over access to economic and social rights.

Lastly, the Ft. Devens strike provides insight into how military policies operate among the personnel they most marginalize. The experiences of the Wacs at Ft. Devens allows a targeted analyses of the circumstances and motivations that provoked an action by military personnel that so flagrantly violated military law. If striking in the military is not an appropriate way to express a grievance, clearly – as noted at Ft. Devens and in comparison with other black Wacs experiences – other options to resolve their issues did 462 not exist. Despite the risks, therefore, the detachment collectively, and then four young women on their own, challenged the Army to follow through on its promises to them – and they won. The victory was not personal nor even official given the case‘s dismissal, but it was a victory. Mary Green’s, Anna Morrison’s, Johnnie Murphy’s, and Alice

Green’s strike and the publicity that surrounded their court-martial so confounded the

Army that, in an extremely rare decision for trials of its kind, it decided to forego the appeal rather than risk further public embarrassment. The case, therefore, showcases the malleability of gender and race roles, and how four young women resisted circumscribed marginalized roles to push for changes.

What happened to Green, Morrison, Murphy, and Young after the trial?

Unfortunately, a fire in 1973 destroyed many of the World War II Veteran’s

Administration records stored in a St. Louis facility. Additionally, the women had not been close friends before the trial or afterward. After their discharges, they went their own ways, thus locating one did not necessarily lead to another.

Mary Green, who had not known if she was pregnant throughout the incident, continued to be plagued by painful medical problems after her release from confinement.

Her maladies kept her constantly in and out of the Lovell Hospital until her honorable discharge seven months later, on November 21, 1945. Green returned to her hometown of

Conroe, Texas where she apparently found only temporary work. On a Veteran’s

Administration form she filed a year later, she listed just one cleaning job of less than a month at a local inn. In March 1946, she secured a divorce from her husband.980 Green’s

980 This was presumably the man she married as a teenager, though the records are unclear on this. (Earlier records indicate that she was already divorced.) 463 first year as a civilian seems to have been at least as tumultuous as her year in the WAC.

In addition to employment and divorce issues, she suffered a miscarriage that July after her discharge. Green continued to seek medical assistance from the Veteran’s

Administration until 1948, after which she disappeared from the public record. She died on August 27, 1996.

Johnny Murphy also returned to the hospital as a patient shortly after her release from confinement. Doctors diagnosed her condition as tonsillitis, though during the four months she subsequently spent at Lovell Hospital, she obviously suffered from other ailments. Prior to the strike, Murphy had been hospitalized for nerves and grippe. In late

September, Murphy as last returned to duty. She was assigned to the female surgery ward where she began the on-the-job training program and earned “fairly satisfactory” marks from her supervisors. According to Captain Myrtle E. Anderson, the new commanding

WAC officer who arrived shortly after the strike incident, these evaluations gave “no hint of [the] difficulty” that was to come.

On or about November 20, 1945, the nurse in charge of the female surgery ward reported that Murphy had shown up late to work, had done so on a number of occasions, and consistently expressed only indifference as to the reasons for her tardiness. As

Anderson officially reprimanded Murphy, she attempted to understand the reasons behind

Murphy’s mood swings and learn if she intended to perform up to expectations. Murphy responded as she had earlier that year during the War Department’s investigation, with curt yes and no answers that revealed little. At a loss with how to deal with the Wac,

464 Anderson declared her “excess” personnel and sent Murphy back to duty pending the transfer. As Anderson later explained, “all things considered, I felt that she was not able to do worthwhile service in the company.”

Within two weeks, Murphy once again caught the attention of her superiors. On

December 1, 1945, First Sergeant Ann L. Covington learned of a fight between Murphy and another Wac, Corporal Fulgate. She ordered them to stay away from each other.

Neither obeyed, Fulgate provoking several attacks that afternoon while Murphy wielded a

“weapon characterized as a dagger.” Later, Covington would recall that “twice when I had Murphy ready to give up, Fulgate would rush in.” Anderson brought Murphy before the Board of Officers “to determine if she should be discharged from Women’s Army

Corps.”981 It would be Murphy’s third military hearing, the first in January for bringing alcohol in the barracks and arguing with her commanding officer and the second for her participation in the Ft. Devens strike. It would also be her last.

On December 18, Anderson, Lt. Stoney, Covington, and the chief neuro- psychologist of Lovell Hospital, Major Merrill Moore, testified that overall Murphy behaved well and got along with her co-workers, but that she occasionally displayed signs of depression and emotional instability which sometimes turned violent.

Suggestions that Murphy had a drinking problem filtered through the session. Moore proposed that her problems stemmed from an inclination to follow others, citing as

981 Captain Myrtle E. Anderson to Commanding Officer, Lovell General Hospital from, “Subject: Request for Board-Hearing,” 14 December 1945, Court-martial of Johnnie Murphy, Army Service Forces, First Command, Lovell General Hospital, Special Order 295, 18 December 1945, Veterans Administration, Wichita, KS.

465 evidence the defendant’s participation in the strike nine months earlier. According to her diagnoses, Murphy’s obvious “suggestibility was indicated by her wish to join the rebellious group although she was in the hospital at the time of the incident or the minor mutiny.”982 After the testimony of others, the board asked Murphy if she had any questions or further testimony that she wished to be included in the record. Despite the damning evidence, she replied, “No, sir.” The board judged her “an unstable and immature personality” who was unable to adapt to the discipline of military life. On

January 6, 1946, the Army issued Murphy a blue discharge. From that point on she disappears from the public record.

After the rigors of the court-martial, Anna Morrison, anxious to put the traumatic incident behind her, requested a discharge. She was nevertheless the last of the four to leave the service. Following her separation from the service on January 12, 1946,

Morrison moved back to her hometown, Richmond, Kentucky. Despite her honorable discharge, she was unable to find work other than low-wage maid jobs, so she moved north to Dayton, Ohio where race relations and salaries were better. She worked there as a nurse’s aide in a local hospital until moving to New York City to study nursing on the

GI Bill. She eventually graduated with her LPN and worked as a nurse until she retired.

“I feel I got that much out of it,” she later remarked, noting that she would not have pursued employment in the medical profession had it not been for the WAC.983

982 Court-martial Extract, Army Service Forces, 18 December 1945, 12.

983 Separation Orders, Anna Morrison; interview, Anna Morrison, 26 March 2002.

466 On March 26, 2002, Anna Morrison received the first inquiry in her memory about the Ft. Devens strike and her role in it. In her eighties by this time, she protested that she could not remember much about the incident, even as she confirmed information, filled in gaps, and described her reactions to the experience. As the memories flowed forth, however, so did the pain that she had striven to put behind her for fifty-seven years.

Graciously answering questions to help out a persistent graduate student, she was pleased to learn that the strike had received positive recognition, but nonetheless found it difficult to revisit her ordeal. Morrison took little personal credit for the strike, citing instead the efforts of her co-defendants. Eventually the painful recollections, coupled with her health problems, took precedence over her interest in reliving the incident.

Bitter experiences forged through courage often shift over the years into memories of personal pride, but this requires a positive fostering environment. Without a chance to discuss her actions and the reasons behind them, Morrison put the strike episode behind her, an effort no doubt aided by the rapid fading of the incident from the popular historical context of the war. In over half a century, she said that no one had asked her about it, much less linked it to other civil disobedience measures that formed the basis of the civil rights movement. In fact, Morrison saw little connection, recalling that during the sixties she had in fact wondered, “Would I have been as brave as those young people?” It was astounding statement given that she and her co-defendants braved the daunting authority of the U.S. Army at the height of its power and national popularity.

Alice Young apparently made the most of her remaining months in the service, earning a promotion to PFC before her honorable discharge on October 31, 1945. The

Army never did enroll her in a medical technician training course or utilize her nursing 467 skills, so she left the service as a “medical aidman.” Upon her return to Washington D.C., a hometown newspaper requested an interview. Young agreed to the interview but declined to comment on the Ft. Devens incident. The most she would say on the matter was that “I am awfully glad to be out of the Army and back home.”984

Young would not pursue her earlier plan to train as a nurse. Instead she returned to her former employer, the Treasury Department in Washington, D.C. Six months after her separation from the WAC, she married James W. Porter, a civilian she had met while in the service. The couple raised their five children in Alexandria, Virginia where Young, active in her church, served as a deaconess. She eventually retired from the U.S.

Treasury. On December 18, 1997, Alice Young Porter passed away.

At Young’s wake, her daughter, Stacie Porter, decided to commemorate her mother’s courage as a way to show her respect for her actions during the Ft. Devens strike. “I put her newspaper clippings on a poster board and displayed them for the younger cousins and neighbors who didn’t know that side of her.” This did not please some of her older relatives, including her mother’s oldest sister, Jennie Hill, who told her that she “shouldn’t have put those news clippings out there. I should just let bygones be bygones.”985

Despite her aunt’s urging to take down the clippings, Porter respectfully declined.

Though her older relatives wanted to leave the painful incident in the past, she wanted to

984 Unmarked and undated article from the scrapbook of Alice Porter Young, courtesy of Stacie Porter.

985 Letter, Stacie Porter to the author, 31 July 2002.

468 delve into it more, share the importance of her mother’s actions with the younger members of the family, and celebrate her courageous stand against discrimination. In a letter to the author she remarked, “I have always been very proud of my mother’s stand – when I think of the Tuskegee Airmen – I think of my mom.” She then added an enduring message from her mother that has helped her over the years: “Don’t get stepped-on.” 986

In the years that followed the court-martial, Young spoke little about the incident, even with close relatives. Her sister Jennie Hill said that she did not discuss it with any of her siblings, even after she first returned home from the Army. Later, when her daughters tried to probe her about what had happened, their inquiries were also rebuffed. Instead, their mother issued a curt reply, “They would treat the blacks real bad.”987 Apparently

Young, like Morrison, wished to put the painful incident behind her. Without a forum for

Young and Morrison to air their thoughts on the case and discuss their experiences as black Wacs, neither woman seems to have had the opportunity to put into context their much publicized role in the social history of the United States.

Given Morrison and Young’s reluctance to discuss the case, it is reasonable to assume that they did not see their earlier actions as either extraordinary or heroic. Perhaps they focused on personal actions that they later assumed did not live up to the standards of heroism. Porter, for instance, had screamed at her commanding officer after the meeting with him, Morrison fainted after sentencing, Murphy had a history of trouble in her short time in the service, and Green vacillated when explaining why she took part in

986 Ibid.

987 Ibid.

469 the strike. With little public examination of the Ft. Devens case once it disappeared from the papers, the women may have focused more on their personal weaknesses than on their strengths in attempting such an undertaking. This is a shame, or perhaps indicative of the times in which they lived, when the leaders of the civil rights movement seemed larger than life, above reproach, and mostly male. Nevertheless, neither Morrison nor Young, and one can hope neither Green nor Murphy, expressed shame or embarrassment over their role in the strike. As Hill explained, despite her sister’s silence on the matter, Alice

Young Porter always “felt she did the right thing.”988

988 Interview, Jennie Hill, sister of Alice Young Porter, 8 February 2003.

470 Bibliography

Primary Sources

Archival/Manuscript Collections

Records of the Office of the Inspector General (Army), National Archives Record, College Park, MD.

Records of the War Department General and Special Staffs, National Archives Record, College Park, MD.

Army AG Decimal Files 1940-45, National Archives Record Group 407, College Park, MD.

United States v. Young et al., CM 278502, March 19, 1945, Ft. Devens, Massachusetts, Army Judiciary, Department of the Army, Washington, DC.

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University of New Hampshire Library. Isadore Zack, U.S. Army Counterintelligence Corps (CIC) Materials, 1942-1997.

471 Government Publications

“Facts You Want to Know about the WAC.” U.S. Army -- Women’s Army Corps. Recruiting Publicly Bureau Washington, D.C., 1943. (The Ohio State University Library)

“Leadership and the Negro Soldier.” Army Service Forces Manual, M5. Government Printing Office. Washington, D.C., 1944. (The Ohio State University Library)

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Newspapers

The Amsterdam News The Atlanta Constitution The Boston Chronicle The Boston Herald The Chicago Daily News The Chicago Defender The Christian Science Monitor The Cleveland Herald The New York Post The New York Times The Philadelphia Afro-American The Pittsburgh Courier The Washington Post Time

Other Primary Sources

Interviews: Anna Morrison, Stacie Porter, Margaret Zeis

Letters and extracts from scrapbook of Alice Young, courtesy of Stacie Porter

472 Excerpt from scrapbook assembled by Patricia Barnes-McConnell and in the possession of Teresa Barnes, Professor of African History, University of Illinois and great-niece of WAC officer Margaret Ellen Barnes Jones, received March 2, 2013, Urbana-Champaign, Illinois.

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478