Turning my underpowered bus on this Kansas red dirt road, I see the next set of passengers waiting to board.
A mix of folks stand at the stop, awaiting my arrival in the dry rust colored summer dust.
I glide the bus to a stop, gently opening the door just as the wheels release their rotation.
Another masterly stop.
Uniformed soldiers and made-up ladies ascend the staircase as they smile at me.
I don’t want to smile. I want to drive.
They walk past me, filling in the rows behind my seat.
Reminds me of driving back in Memphis, cept for the roads here ain’t as good.
A negro officer and lady take seats in the second row, in front of white soldiers and ladies.
“Son, you’ll have to move back” I announce to the boy, figuring the woman will move with him.
He looks at me, jaw dropping.
What, ain’t no one ever talked to you like that nigger?
“You looking at me boy?” I say.
He don’t stop lookin’
“I am not moving. You see this uniform? You see this bar? You know what they mean? They mean I’m in The United States Army, and I’m an officer at that. You have no right to tell me to move from this seat,” the boy replies.
Back home I’d haul off and slap that boy. Here, well, there’s other ways to deal with the uppity.
“Have it your way, Son.” I reply, turning back around to finish the route.
I look back in the mirror at the negro and his female companion, sitting in the second row.
Ain’t you comfy boy?
A few more stops, we get to the end of the line. I stop the bus in another smooth glide home, parking it right in front of the base hospital.
Before the passengers have a chance to get off, I leave my seat, walk out the just opened doors, and head over to the nearest Military Police Officer.
“Sir, I do say. I just suffered insubordination of a young soldier on my bus. Please deal with him accordingly.” As I point to the negro who was so proud of his little bar.
I’ll show you yet, you uppity boy.
The MP walks with purpose toward the chatting negro, apprehending him while pushing the woman to the side.
“You talking back, boy?” the MP says as he cuffs the negro.
“What are you doing? I’ve done nothing wrong.” The boy protests.
“That’s not what I heard, boy. You’re coming with me.” The MP says as he yanks against the cuffs, pulling the negro soldier with him.
Ain’t no negro talk back to me.
The Court martial of Jackie Robinson.
by dirkdeklein
Jack Roosevelt Robinson (January 31, 1919 – October 24, 1972) was an American professional baseball second baseman who became the first African American to play in Major League Baseball (MLB) in the modern era.Robinson broke the baseball color line when the Brooklyn Dodgers started him at first base on April 15, 1947. The Dodgers, by signing Robinson, heralded the end of racial segregation in professional baseball that had relegated black players to the Negro leagues since the 1880s. Robinson was inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame in 1962.
In 1942, Robinson was drafted and assigned to a segregated Army cavalry unit in Fort Riley, Kansas.
Having the requisite qualifications, Robinson and several other black soldiers applied for admission to an Officer Candidate School (OCS) then located at Fort Riley. Although the Army's initial July 1941 guidelines for OCS had been drafted as race neutral, few black applicants were admitted into OCS until after subsequent directives by Army leadership. As a result, the applications of Robinson and his colleagues were delayed for several months. After protests by heavyweight boxing champion Joe Louis (then stationed at Fort Riley) and the help of Truman Gibson (then an assistant civilian aide to the Secretary of War), the men were accepted into OCS.The experience led to a personal friendship between Robinson and Louis. Upon finishing OCS, Robinson was commissioned as a second lieutenant in January 1943.
Lt. Robinson was an officer with the 761st Tank Battalion. That unit of African-American soldiers - later dubbed "The Black Panthers" (and "Patton’s Panthers") - became famous when they fought for 183 straight days in Europe (including at the Battle of the Bulge). Their motto was "Come Out Fighting."
If an eventful bus ride had not sidetracked Jack Robinson, during the summer of 1944, the 2nd Lieutenant could have been with his men when they shipped-out to Europe. Instead, he faced charges of insubordination, resulting in a court-martial.
An event on July 6, 1944 derailed Robinson's military career.While awaiting results of hospital tests on the ankle he had injured in junior college, Robinson boarded an Army bus with a fellow officer's wife; although the Army had commissioned its own unsegregated bus line, the bus driver ordered Robinson to move to the back of the bus.Robinson refused.
The driver backed down, but after reaching the end of the line, summoned the military police, who took Robinson into custody.When Robinson later confronted the investigating duty officer about racist questioning by the officer and his assistant, the officer recommended Robinson be court-martialed. After Robinson's commander in the 761st, Paul L. Bates, refused to authorize the legal action, Robinson was summarily transferred to the 758th Battalion—where the commander quickly consented to charge Robinson with multiple offenses, including, among other charges, public drunkenness, even though Robinson did not drink.
By the time of the court-martial in August 1944, the charges against Robinson had been reduced to two counts of insubordination during questioning. Robinson was acquitted by an all-white panel of nine officers.
The experiences Robinson was subjected to during the court proceedings would be remembered when he later joined MLB and was subjected to racist attacks.Although his former unit, the 761st Tank Battalion, became the first black tank unit to see combat in World War II, Robinson's court-martial proceedings prohibited him from being deployed overseas; thus, he never saw combat action.
After his acquittal, he was transferred to Camp Breckinridge, Kentucky, where he served as a coach for army athletics until receiving an honorable discharge in November 1944.While there, Robinson met a former player for the Kansas City Monarchs of the Negro American League, who encouraged Robinson to write the Monarchs and ask for a tryout. Robinson took the former player's advice and wrote to Monarchs' co-owner Thomas Baird.