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 cease 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 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 talkin’ back to me.

*****

Jack Roosevelt Robinson became the first African-American to play in Major League Baseball (MLB) in the modern era, but this was not the first time Robinson broke a color line.

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). 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. This 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 and fought in Belgium later that year.  Instead, he faced charges of insubordination, resulting in a court-martial.

On July 6, 1944, Robinson was awaiting results of hospital tests on the ankle he had injured in junior college. He 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.