This blog details my father's experience as a Montford Point Marine. The Montford Point Marines were the nation's First Black Marines, and they served bravely in a branch of the military that initially refused to accept them. The Montford Point Marines exceeded expectations and served tenaciously in World War II and The Korean War. These surviving men were finally recognized by Congress and received the Gold Medal of Honor as a group on June 28, 2012.
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Showing posts with label Clifford Primus. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Clifford Primus. Show all posts
In order to move forward with publishing a book and doing a documentary on my father's life, it requires funding. So I am respectfully asking from both my loyal readers and new readers to contribute to my fundraising account at: https://www.crowdrise.com/MyFathersMontfordPointMarineStory/fundraiser/desireeprimus
Corporal Clifford Primus Source: Primus Family
Sometimes in life if you want something, you simply have to ask. Your contributions will help with book publishing costs and media equipment. As this is my first attempt at Internet fundraising, I decided to not have an exorbitant amount for this initial campaign. We will see how this goes. I am also requesting that you share this fundraiser with friends or families that may have an interest in promoting the story about the Montford Point Marines, and anyone that was or currently in the military. Perhaps you might know of an educator or a history expert that enjoys the study of World War II or life in a segregated culture. Conceivably, you might be a reader from countries outside of the United States. United Kingdom, Russia, Saudi Arabia, Brazil--you have read about the Montford Point Marines or any of my other stories and were inspired to help. Some themes are universal and demonstrates our commonality as a truly global community. Voices from underrepresented groups need to heard. Perspectives from socially marginalized groups brings a unique viewpoint to the table and promotes diversity. Specifically, I feel that the study of the Montford Point Marines would be a great addition to any school curriculum. Students can learn about these men who made significant sacrifices for our country. Black History Month in the month of February would have additional subject matter, as opposed to the same five people, year after year. And last but not least, these blog entries take time to research, fact check and edit. Sometimes I wonder to myself why don't I just write about something mundane, or celebrity gossip. Who knows, I might try it. I could write a post about Blue Ivy's hair or "Top Five Fuchsia Lipsticks" in ten minutes, push the publish button and be done with it. But it would be a fleeting, short term experience and not lasting, which brings us back to the purpose of this blog: To educate the world about the Montford Point Marines. I thank you readers for the journey and your anticipated support! A portion of the proceeds from the book will go to a Veterans organization. You are the person responsible for helping the legacy of these forgotten soldiers. Crowdrise.com/fundraiser/myfathersmontfordmarinestory/desireeprimus
Montford Point Marines on leave, Harlem, NY,1943. Source: archives.gov
"Desiree!!" My father's voice bellowed throughout the house. "Come here, please!" I ventured down to the lower level where my father was sitting. His large hand held the Sunday edition of the local newspaper, the HartfordCourant. It prominently displayed pictures of World War II Veterans in a special Memorial Day tribute. I looked at the faces and glanced at the articles. "How come I'm not there?", my father inquired, feeling left out.
"I don't know Dad, there are 13,000 living World War II Veterans in Connecticut, you already had an article."
"Well, I want you to look into it, maybe there is a number you can call."
I read further and located a contact person. It was the director at The Veterans Project* at Central Connecticut University. You might have seen the Veterans History Project dog tags logo in stories about Soldiers. The Veteran History Project is a national initiative that acts as clearinghouse for collecting Soldiers' stories and memorabilia. I recalled seeing them for the first time when I was researching my post "Six Bailey Brothers Served the Country During World War II". The photos accompanying that blog post were repinned over three hundred times from the "Montford Point Marines and Honor Board" on Pinterest.
Source: Nationalmall.org
"They're not open on Memorial Day, it's a holiday for the school. I will contact them on Tuesday."
I emailed the Veterans Project and immediately got a reply. Within minutes. The director wanted to know if my father had letters or kept a journal. Did he have any military documents or photos? She asked if my Dad was available for two hours and I thought to myself, better plan for three. Dad puffed up with pride.
If you go to the Veterans History Project site there are links where you can find Veterans to speak at events, curriculum guides for educators and more importantly, places where you can view actual materials in person. Based on the their site, the program was established in 2000 by an act of Congress. Additional funding is provided by AARP magazine.
War Letters
Letters are important because the reader can get a sense of exactly what the soldier experienced during war time. Moreover, writing letters is a dying art due to the advent of technology. Someone deployed overseas today can instantly communicate with a loved one via a web camera or email. (when possible)
War letters written from Colonel Robert Gould Shaw, for example, formed the basis of a book detailing his experience as commander of the 54th Massachusetts Regiment. Thoughts communicated on scarce paper two centuries ago was used for educational purposes and made into a motion picture, such as in the case of the Civil War epic film Glory.
Continuous communication among loved ones and friends was something that Soldiers appreciated. These letters show how service personnel counted the days until they returned home. Correspondence had a chance of being delayed for various reasons such as enemy interception, censorship and various other logistical causes. Nonetheless, Soldiers looked forward to receiving mail.
Library of Congress
Source: Flickr
Hand written correspondence during World War II was sometimes heavily censored. In looking at pictures of old letters, information deemed sensitive were redacted and an official stamp indicated that the contents were reviewed. Posters and films of that era reminded soldiers that ""loose lips sink ships." Censors and military officials were concerned about details that gave away troop locations, which would put a mission in a danger. The element of surprise is certainly a critical military tactic.
Also, a pbs.org article on censorship and war letters states:
There was some censoring in the Civil War because letters sometimes had to cross enemy lines. Most of the censoring comes from the prisoner-of-war camps. For example, if someone was writing a letter from Andersonville [a Confederate prison camp where many Union soldiers starved] those at the camp didn't want people to know what was happening, so the prisoners wouldn't be allowed to say anything bad about a camp. The first heavy censorship of U.S. soldiers took place during World War I.
Journals and Photos
Journals kept by young men in battle captures the Soldier's innermost thoughts and provide commentary for the events. Reader feels like they are part of the action. To illustrate, a seaman penned his observations as a member of the USS Mason, the WWII Navy ship with the mostly Black crew. Sailor James A. Dunn's journal eventually became a published book. The first person account drives the story and allows people to connect.
And speaking of witnesses, in the "Witness to the Holocaust", photographs left an indelible impression. Trained photojournalist William Scott III deftly captured images in order to document the ghastly atrocities of war. General Dwight Eisenhower instructed his men to take photos of concentration camps-- he accurately predicted that people would later deny the fact that the Holocaust happened.
"I made the visit deliberately, in order to be in a position to give firsthand evidence of these things if ever, in the future, there develops a tendency to charge these allegations merely to ‘propaganda.’” General Eisenhower (scenenewspaper.com)
I bring up all these examples of military letters, photos, and journals to emphasize the importance of gathering materials from Veterans. Civilians and service people can create a better understanding of wars and conflicts. The experiences of African American Soldiers and Sailors are under-represented. I would imagine that the Veterans History Project would seek out stories from this group and other ethnic groups. Perhaps their stories will later be turned into films, plays and literature. Validation can at last be achieved.
For the Montford Point Marines, comprehensive history has been curated at their official museum in Jacksonville, NC, and the University of North Carolina (Wilmington). Office of War Photographer Roger Smith took over two hundred photos showing young African American men transitioning into Marines at boot camp. A good portion of Smith's Montford Point Marines photos are obviously archived in the Library of Congress.
My father's interview with the Veteran's History Project will be held soon. I suggest my readers to encourage Veterans to participate in the project. Artifacts and recordings insure future generations understand our comprehensive history.
One of my readers recently discovered that his father was an officer at Montford Point on Memorial Day. In his comments he also mentioned that his father was injured at Peleliu. Peleliu was one of the fiercest Pacific Battles of World War II. In honor of his discovery, my next series of posts will explore locations where Montford Point Marines saw intense combat. Ironically enough, support divisions ended up assuming combat duties.
* U.S. citizen civilians who were actively involved in supporting war efforts (such as war industry workers, USO workers, flight instructors, medical volunteers, etc.) are also invited to share their valuable stories .-From Veterans History Project Site.
The beauty of social media is having an audience of people who support you. From far flung places such as Macao and Mauritius, to people in my father's town, the interest is there.
In the meantime, other stakeholders have become involved. More individuals have decided to help tell my father's story of the Montford Point Marines and the 51st Defense Battalion. I am very grateful for Kevin Sullivan of the Wilson Branch Public Library in Windsor, Connecticut for allowing the talk on the Montford Point Marines and the 51st Defense Battalion to happen. The branch is located fifty yards from my father's residence. The following week while I was outside of the library on a bench, a teen aged female approached me. She was one of the attendees at my father's event that took place at 4 pm on April 10, 2014. It was early morning and I wondered why wasn't she in school. I then realized that she was on spring break from school. She inquired about my dad; I thanked the young lady for her concern and told her I would let him know that she asked about him. I couldn't help but notice that there was a group of teen-aged boys that were at the library during the presentation. A librarian had wanted them to join us but they refused. She apologized but I understood-- I taught high school before. For some young people of color, World War II, the Civil Rights Movement, and general history, is too far removed from their day to day reality. Yet in fact it is relevant because many issues that African American youths face today are similar to what was faced generations ago. If the young males were present, they would of learned that my dad came to Connecticut by himself about the same age that they were. He ventured north because that's where so many jobs were at the time. As soon as my father descended the stairs from the bus back in the 1940s, he was accosted by people desperately looking for job seekers. Living in New England was not always the promised land. But rather than bemoan the young males lack of interest, I revisited marketing and presentation. I developed a creative idea which I will detail next month.
Montford Point Marine John Phoenix
He fought in Korea and Vietnam. He is now 83 years old.
Source: dailymail.co.uk
The above photo was the image that was on my father's poster for his talk at the library. I chose this particular image because it is a photo of a Montford Point Marine that is rarely shown. His name is John Phoenix. I also selected this picture because of the rifle and the bulging bicep. While the person is a Montford Marine it is not a World War II era photo. Clearly the Office of War Information would not have approved of this picture. Nonetheless, powerful.
"Easter Eggs for Hitler" Source: National Archives
The above photo was the original image for my father's event. It was the famous "Easter Egg for Hitler" photo. A strong and timely message since Easter was the following week. But I immediately knew that the soldiers were from the Army and served in the European Theater. I pointed it out and the pictures were swapped out of the program. My father would insist that they be Montford Marines. The story behind the photo comes from Eisenhower National Park Service Museum*:
Technical Sergeant William E. Thomas and Private First Class Joseph Jackson prepared a gift of Special "Easter Eggs" for Adolph Hitler and the German Army. Scrawling such messages on artillery shells in World War II was one way in which artillery soldiers could humorously express their dislike of the enemy.
By March, 1945 many more U.S. combat units of African-Americans were on the front. Lieutenant Colonel Chet Hansen, aide to 12th Army Group commander Omar Bradley, noted in his diary on April 8, 1945, that Negroes are now being used in volunteer (combat platoons with our divisions) and according to Bradley they are doing well.
In summary, the talk on my father's experience as a Montford Point Marine at our local library is a beginning. Photos used conveyed the spirit of African American men finally allowed to participate in combat. The brave soldiers also performed well which later led to significant socio-economic gains for African Americans as a result.
Moreover, the next objective is to educate young people about the Montford Point Marines. Young people need to learn about the sacrifices made and not take advancement for granted. As noted in present day times from our continuous news cycle, discrimination is not going away. Knowing history helps young people master their future. Finally, in the interest of transparency, there is a long-term oversight that I need to address concerning Montford Point Marines and Honor Blog. What do you think the glaring omission is that requires at least two posts? Don't forget to share this post and become a follower! Sources: dailymail.co.uk mcclatchydc.com nps.gov*
The new guest to the Primus house was given a tour around the residence. I escorted her through the split level house, squeezing past chair glides that graced two flights of stairs. The Veterans Administration paid for the newer, sleek model with the remote. Introductions were made, and small talk ensued. Al Sharpton's robust voice could be heard from the living room television as it usually does at 6pm. One gregarious person who came to visit my father had left. Dad became engrossed in his show.
I was working on Montford Point Marine and Honor Blog and showed the remaining guest the writing. I explained that it was about my father and pointed out to her my mother's post. At age ninety my father is not really interested in the Internet. He prefers newspapers. I then noticed that he suddenly became agitated.
His voice changed and he spoke directly to me about our guest, in right front of her. Dad's penetrating brown eyes looked sharply into my questioning gaze.
"She didn't notice anything when she came in."
The guest and I shifted nervously. It seemed like forever and we both waited. It was like in the movies when the alpha male makes a statement and no one knows how to react.
"She didn't notice my awards."
Everyone burst into laughter, relieved. " I'm sorry, let me show you my Dad's awards and explain his history, I was wondering why he was getting all testy!" I smiled.
dvidshub.net Corporal Lynn L. Williams (far right) walks with other Marines during liberty in the 1940s.
Montford Point Marine and Honor Blog is slowly growing. A month into my blog, people have expressed interest in doing a documentary on my father's life. They include former students of mine, random strangers, and cohorts. What readers fail to realize is that this is really my father's story and I write because he wanted others to know about his life, the story about the 51st Defense Battalion, and the Montford Point Marines. Of course by reading this you get a chance to discover how living in the United States as a Black man of my father's generation was difficult. You also get some trailblazers, military topics and general history thrown in for good measure.
Some of my consistently ranked top ranked posts are the ones such as the Great Depression and my mother. His Non-Welcoming Homecoming, is popular. Consequently, stories in Montford Point Marines and Honor Blogspot are universal and timeless. Who can't relate to being ostracized at one time or discriminated? I write from the viewpoint of a teacher, remembering when students would be interested when I shared stories about my father's life. All those years of teaching children how to write a five paragraph essay in forty five minutes paid off, apparently. I spend countless hours on posts, finding appealing photos, and researching multiple sources. I am learning SEO, social media, and how to add links. You can see the difference in the posts over time. Which leads us to....
....Ill-intentioned people who want to profit from my writing and achieve all the glory without doing the heavy lifting. Who are they? They know who they are. I see where they come in through analytics, where they are researching my page views and website's net worth. So I retained the services of an attorney in Washington, D.C. and conferred with others in Connecticut and Florida. Writers today cultivate followers over time. It is where trust and a relationship forms. I could easily write a book today and let it languish. For someone else to simply write a book after I done all the research and work is--well, inherently wrong. Especially since said person (s) reads this blog on a regular and pretends like it does not exist. My Dad is very proud of me and likes talking to me about his life. He likes to remember the old days as it keeps his mind active. Alas, there appears to be people out there who are trying to get the glory and a payday, people who really don't care about my father.
Some Montford Point Marines received their Medal of Honor at home.
They were unable to make the ceremony because of health reasons.
Source: 3bp.blogspot.com
When I talked to him about a book and a documentary, he says make sure no one calls him and I want my cut! So just as some people are waiting for my posts in order to get a payday, I wait for my Google alerts that scan the Internet for any resemblance of my Dad's story. The daughter of a Montford Point Marine, in case you haven't noticed, pays close attention.
I thank the loyal readers of this blog for their support. My father is very pleased when I read to him the list of countries throughout the world who are learning about him. Seventy years is a long time to tell his story of the Montford Point Marines and the 51st Defense Battalion, nicknamed the "Lost Battalion," by the Black Press. With Google alerts, I read about Montford Point Marine Veterans receiving their medals at their residence or at a nursing home. They were too ill to make the ceremony in Washington. D.C. Others had no idea the United States Marine Corp were trying to locate them. Usually a Marine Officer arrives at the Veteran's house to award the coveted Medal of Honor to a proud "Leatherneck."
So what do you think? Should a "Johnny Come Lately" slap a book or movie together and exploit my father's story, using my words and efforts? Why aren't these individuals reaching out to me if they are so interested in my father's life as a Montford Point Marine? Isn't it great that my father has an uncanny memory about his past?
Please feel free to comment and share.
Source: Nola.com
Reading about the history of the Montford Point Marines
Because of financial hardship, many African American children sometimes live with relatives for a while. It is not uncommon for children to reside with an aunt or uncle for extended periods of times. Children from "up north" in the United States would often spend their summers in the south.They stayed with loving yet stern grandparents who would pass on important traditions of lifestyle and culture.
I also have many friends who shared stories of staying down south, or in the country surrounded by tons of cousins in the summertime. These trips were mainly because they were out of school and relatives were the trusted resource for childcare. Children were supervised, and consequently not getting into mischief, nor running the air conditioner all day long and eating up all the food.
heleenvandeven.wordpress.com
Fresh, home-cooked food was always featured in my friends' "down south" stories, along with tales of outdoor games, cook-outs and family reunions. Friends would unconsciously slip into an Alabama, Georgia, or Carolina accent when discussing their relatives and the great time that they had visiting. On the few occasions when I traveled to the south as a youngster, kids would remark, "Where is Connecticut?", or "You talk so proper."
My father lived with his maternal grandparents in Tampa, Florida. It was after directly after the "Dad Causes His Family To Get Fired" incident. At one time his entire family lived with his grandparents after the Primus Family job dismissal. Eventually, the family secured employment in Daytona Beach, FL. Dad remained with his grandparents and an aunt in Tampa. He indicated that he was close in age to his younger brother Ted and that times "were rough during the Great Depression." One less mouth to feed would be easier.
Dad explained he was spoiled by his grandparents. His grandfather was Z.K. Rose, an African Methodist Episcopal minister who had his own church. The Rose family lived in a parsonage. Pastor Rose was given milk, sweet potatoes and "a few quarters thrown in the cigar box" by grateful church members. My father accompanied him on some of his ministerial trips. The presiding elder would pay dad's grandfather once a month. His other job was working in a phosphate mine in Floral City, Florida.
Dad went to school every day with his Aunt Bootsie, whose real name was Loretta. She was unmarried then and an elementary school teacher. His classmates included Black Cubans. They were forced to attend his segregated school away from their siblings that had a White appearance. Cuban families immigrating to America for a better life were racially divided within their own family. One does not have to be a revolutionary psychiatrist like Frantz Fanon to guess the inter-generational familial damage this policy created.
The Rose family lived across the street from a Cuban store. Dad said he was able to eat sausage all the time. That fact is telling; sausage was considered a delicacy due to adverse economic conditions. Americans were forced to have meatless dinners. Furthermore, back in 1928, Herbert Hoover's Republican campaign brochure promised a "Chicken in every pot"* for Americans. Americans were starving and desperate. There were no assistance programs such as government cheese, or free and reduced lunch programs for hungry school children. Folks had to be extremely resourceful when it came to meals.
Source: 4BP.blogspot.com
One of my father's candies of choice.
Named after New York Yankee Babe Ruth.
After some time, Dad moved to Daytona Beach, Florida and lived with his parents and brothers and sisters. He attended Bonner Elementary School there. His grandparents and his aunt regularly sent him money. Dad's pockets were always jingling with nickles and dimes. Additionally, he would eat Baby Ruth and Goodbar chocolate candy bars in front of his siblings and refused to share. I guess this is where the "spoiled rotten" part comes into play.
As a teenager Dad worked at Hubert's Pharmacy and Harry's grocery store. He swept and arranged items in the stores, and loaded the car for delivery. Obviously, few people owned cars. Dad delivered groceries on his bike. He was also a newspaper carrier and had educator and civil rights icon Mary McLeod Bethune on his paper route.
Apparently, Dad was a hard worker as a juvenile. And that spoiled rotten part? He eventually outgrew that phase and made ultimate sacrifices for his country and family. A true Marine.
Notes: Frantz Fanon (1925-1961) is a Martinique born, French writer, psychiatrist and activist. He is famous for his books, White Masks, Black Skin and The Wretched of the Earth. Fanon became involved in the movement to free Algeria from French colonialism. He has had a profound effect on post-colonial discourse and leaders.
*"Chicken in a pot every Sunday" was originally attributed to Henry IV of France, when speaking about peasants during the 17th century.
**African Methodist Episcopal Church-Was the first major religious denomination in the Western World that had its origin over sociological and theological beliefs and differences. It rejected the negative theological interpretations which rendered persons of African descent second class citizens. Its founder was the Reverend Richard Allen of Philadelphia, PA in 1816. Allen and other leaders left St. George's Methodist Episcopal Church because of discrimination. From www.amechurch.org
***Phosphate is a mineral that is mined. In north America it can be found in central Florida. Plants need phosphates to stimulate healthy root development. Phosphates are used it in food, and in industrial detergents, acts as a anti-corrosion agent, plus a myriad of other uses.
I have described my father's life as an elderly veteran for quite a few posts now. But a popular post among readers is the entry, The Great Depression and Hard Times: Part I. The post strikes an emotional chord with people because of the the similarities with the Great Recession, which is commonly known as the worst recession since the Great Depression. ( The Great Recession is believed to have started in 2007)
Some people now have to go to food banks, and apply for unemployment insurance for the first time. "Thrifting" and holding out on unnecessary purchases became the norm. Middle class people lost significant wealth and the poor became even poorer. Global readers have been effected by the Great Recession, and regular folk, students, the curious, all wanted to glean some lessons from The Great Depression, a destitute time in American history. Moreover, the frustration that the unemployed have in trying to seek jobs when they are fewer positions available fueled discontent among the younger generation. Millennials, as they are called, had difficulty obtaining employment after graduating college or they are inevitably underemployed. On the other hand, there is also ageism; companies do not want to pay higher salaries and health insurance to older applicants because of the additional expenses.
Readers researched the Great Depression because they were curious about the types of food that families ate, and how Americans managed day to day. They were particularly concerned about the plight of African Americans, who occupied the bottom rung of the socio-economic ladder, as previously enslaved chattel. I know this as I check the key words which cause viewers to land on Montford Point Marine and Honor Blogspot.
"You know, we used to live in Palm Beach County, Florida," My father stated, when I shared that I traveled to the area.
"My father had a brother named Howard. Some of them ended up in Missouri, and other places but you do have relatives there. You also had a cousin who worked at Clark College*, do you remember her?" "Yes, I remember her," I answered. She was a dorm director and was pretty popular.
"My father's family worked for a wealthy family. I caused my family to get fired."
It was my dad's notorious story of mischief. The story was passed around among family and extended relatives. Family members usually tell the story with raucous laughter, unable to recount the story with a straight face and a serious tone.
The story went like this:
Dad's father was a landscaper. Dad's mother was a domestic, standard occupations for Negros during the early part of the 1900s. His parents were blessed enough to secure work as a couple employed by a rich family. The wealthy family were members of a well to do community in Palm Beach, who enjoyed the posh lifestyle and resided in a palatial estate. The building boom, attractive climate, and beautiful Spanish architecture made Palm Beach the perfect locale for moneyed entrepreneurs. Palm Beach was a winter haven for the rich back then as it is now. It represents one of the highest per capital income locales in the United States.
Dad began playing with the owner's little son. The son had a shiny new tricycle. This trike was especially appealing to dad, for many children had no toys or bicycles. Toys that were in existence either were hand me downs, or makeshift.
Suddenly, Dad and his new little friend ended up in the water that bordered the lovely compound. Neither child could swim and their frantic cries for help reverberated throughout the grounds. The male adults, clad in white seersucker suits, rushed to the aid of the young boys, dad remembered. I know for a fact that my father could not swim; the young boys could have easily drowned. "I want you to leave the premises NOW!!" The employer shouted to the Primus family. No opportunity was made to explain, or given extra time to make alternative housing arrangements.
The Primus family were immediately plunged into unemployment as a result of a Dad's incident with the tricycle.
My paternal grandfather was forced to walk many miles looking for employment in the hot Florida sun. There were no state labor departments or applying for positions from the comfort of home electronically like today. Pictures of this era show men going from town to town on foot, desperately looking for work. Some places resented the influx of unemployed men in their area, due to to the scarcity of jobs and food. Dad said that the family stayed with friends during this stressful time.
The horror of losing a job for a breadwinner can be monumental. The Primus family consisted of numerous children during this dire situation. Dad had major guilt, which was a considerable amount of pain for a young child to bear. To top it off, he was described as a child with considerable energy, and simply could not sit still.
Even now, when I watch my Dad try and stand up after sitting, I notice the impulse to move quickly; his "chronologically advanced" joints remind him to slow down.This same energy enabled him to work several jobs, own a business, get a real estate license, travel, sign up for combat duty as a Marine, socialize and participate as an active member of the Masons.** The list goes on. In short, he is the type of individual who was in perpetual motion.
However, when you are kid and your family gets fired because of your extra energy and carelessness, there is no consolation. All you know is that your parents aren't happy with you and your family has now joined the significant ranks of the unemployed -- during the Great Depression.
* Clark College is now known as Clark Atlanta University-Clark Atlanta University (CAU), established in 1988 as a result of the consolidation of two independent historically black institutions - Atlanta University (1865) and Clark College (1869), is a United Methodist Church-related, private, coeducational, residential, and comprehensive urban research university. The University offers undergraduate, graduate and professional, and non-degree certificate programs. http://www.cau.edu/
All of my newly acquired information on Merchant Marines, Hugh Mulzac, and Liberty Ships prompted me to ask my father if he were familiar with the subjects. He listened intently as I described Captain Mulzac successfully ferrying over 18,000 Allied troops across the oceans aboard the Booker T. Washington. "Booker T. Washington," He reflected appreciatively. "Oh yes, I remember traveling on a Liberty Ship to the Marshall Islands. In the beginning of the war we traveled on Liberty Ships. They were rough going, the guys would threw up from motion sickness. Some would vomit right into their food. The "Chow Hounds" would eat the rest of people's food that they didn't throw up in."
"Chow Hounds?," I inquired with amusement.
"You know chow hounds, folks that eat all the time, they weren't too particular about food, they ate everything." Dad chuckled and continued his narrative. "The Liberty Ships would go out at night with a Destroyer and a Destroyer Escort. There were Japanese submarines out there. Towards the end of the war we rode on Victory Ships. They were smoother and they went at six knots an hour. When it was time to go home we traveled on a regular Dutch liner. It took us a month to get home to San Diego."
SS Lane Victory-Victory Class Cargo ships were used in WWII, The Korean War, and Vietnam War. SS Lane Victory named after HBCU Lane College. Now a standing museum and a U.S. National Historic Landmark. Source: hnsa.org
Dad's 51st Defense Battalion was initially viewed as an "Experiment", as the idea of Negros in combat for nonbelievers were wrongfully synonymous with failure. But even during training, the 51st impressed all. First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt personally visited them at Montford Point to witness the Marines practice shooting down drones. Moreover, Montford Point Marines received excellent reviews from their commanding officers as evidenced by official military documents. They completed their duties in the Marshall Islands once the war was over in August, 1945.
It was time to return home for civilian life. Dad remembers the lively guys from Chicago who hired a taxicab to take them from San Diego, California, all the way to the Windy City. That must have been a pricey fare. But Dad also remembers a more poignant memory: His Military Homecoming.
Throngs of people awaited the arrival of the 51st Defense Battalion in San Diego, California. The Red Cross provided coffee and donuts. It appeared the 51st would receive a heroes' welcome, the antithesis of how they were treated before deployment. Indeed, on my dad's way to Montford Point, he was forced to substandard, segregated travel arrangements. Many folks gave uniformed Montford Point Marines a hard time because they resented them being Black Marines. Perhaps with the Allied victory, treatment would be better.
The Red Cross women hugged and greeted White Montford Point Marine Officers warmly after they disembarked from the ship. Excitement and gratitude permeated the air, and refreshments were distributed to the officers. Military celebrations at the end of WWII were epic, monumental occassions.
And then the festivities were promptly over. For the remaining Black Montford Marines, they were greeted with leftovers. Not one person was around to acknowledge the Montford Point Marines. Not one handshake. It was as if they did not exist.
To this day, my father carried that memory of the Red Cross shunning the 51st Defense Battalion in his mind. For the longest time, he despised the Red Cross. He still had love for the Marines and his country.The bitterness that manifested is similar to many Veterans who return from battle receiving no thanks from their country. There were no parades or glory. Just...nothing. Dad receiving the Medal of Honor eased his pain.
I asked dad how the 90 mm anti-aircraft was operated. It was the weapon that dad was assigned in the Marshall Islands during World War II. My father stated that four men were needed to use the 90 mm. He was seated on the right side and was responsible for turning the machine to the left. The movement of the weapon began when corresponding bulbs were matched. The bulbs indicated that the approaching enemy plane had reached a certain altitude or height. The Battery Sargent would give a signal and then, reported my dad, the plane would burst, after entering gun fire.
Members of the 51st receiving training at Montford Point.
Source: ibiblio.org
"Were you scared, Dad?" I asked, knowing the of history of Japanese fighter pilots. It was said that German soldiers were told to kill, but Japanese soldiers were told to die.
"Hell nawl," my Dad quickly replied. "We ain't see nothing, you're looking into a scope, you just saw dots. We shot at Mitsubishi planes."
Dad was twenty years old at this time. He was the same age if not older than many of the Japanese pilots that were members of the Japanese Navy and Army.
But these Japanese pilots by World War II's end were trained to do one thing--fly Mitsubishi A6M2 planes nicknamed the "Zero" and the "Personal Flying Coffin" into targets. As the word coffin implies, these were Suicide Missions.
In previous posts I talked about what events and people caused my father to join a segregated branch of the armed forces, that initially did not want Negroes. Now it is time to discuss the reasoning behind a Japanese man for joining their Imperial military.
A sign post in the Marshall Islands. Dad's two islands are on the bottom, left.
Source: ibiblio.org
"Dad, the weapons that you used in the Marshall Islands were found at an auction. The Montford Point Marine Association will be displaying it in their museum." I couldn't remember the name of the equipment and thought it was pretty exciting that it was recovered.
"Oh, you mean the 90 mm?" My Dad answered, as if we were discussing what he had for breakfast that morning.
"We used the anti-aircraft machine artillery. We were on the two big islands Eniwetok and Kwaajalein-- the rest of the islands were occupied by the Japanese. The US had a blockade and there were airstrips on both islands. There were Navy fighter planes. There was dog battery and fox battery. I was a member of dog battery. Because of the blockade the Japanese submarines could not get food or supplies to their men. I thought I told you that already," Dad chided me.
Source: montford point marine association
The machine that my dad used. Montford Point Marines
exceeded goals during WWII.
"No, I just wanted to make sure that I got it right," I answered, furiously jotting it down in my notebook. I wanted to ask more specific questions, but decided not to push it. I sensed a Western or a pressing news show competing with my father's attention. The additional questions would have to come later to the nonagenarian.*
Anti-Aircraft, as its name implies, are weapons designed to attack enemy airplanes. Dad was a member of the first African American combat unit. His 90mm was relocated a month before his 90th birthday, and almost a year after receiving his Medal of Honor.
So, until my next interview, I have the following information from www.military.com:
The Montford Point Marines performed well in their duties at home and abroad despite the structures placed on them by society in their era. In practice these men surpassed all anti aircraft gunnery records previously set by Marines, and named their weapon "Lena", after their favorite singer, Lena Horne.
The 90 millimeter MIAI anti-aircraft weapon system was delivered to Camp Johnson** back inApril 2013. It is currently being displayed in the "Greasy Spoon", which is the site of the Montford Point mess hall and home of the museum. Additionally:
-It was used by the 51st and 52nd Defense Battalions from 1942-1946.
-Weighs nearly 19,000 pounds
-16 feet in length
- Was the United States main anti-aircraft weapon system from early World War II through the 1950's.
Source: mpma.28.com
Now I must prepare to write about the Montford Point Marines' 90mm namesake, the inconic Miss Lena Horne...
*nonagenarian: someone ninety to ninety nine years old
** Camp Johnson: An area of Montford Point that was named after Sgt Major Gilbert "Hashmark"Johnson in 1974. Johnson was a drill instructor and served in WWII and Korea. He also served in other military branches.
Other:
Mess Hall: military dining room
Greasy spoon: term used to classify a cheap restaurant.
Upon finishing boot camp at Montford Point, Camp LeJeune, North Carolina, my father was very excited. As a member of the 51st Defense Battalion, this unit had to prove that they were capable soldiers in combat. They would reverse the findings of the military report that cited that Negros were incompetent in battle. It was thirty long years since the 92nd Division's performance during World War I (1914-1918) that unfairly influenced military policy. Sentiments and beliefs systems were slowly starting to change for World War II.
Dad took a train from North Carolina to San Diego, California via the southern route of the United States. The year was 1943. San Diego, CA was the location of the Marines Corps military base. Of course, his battalion traveled Jim Crow style, which meant uniformed men of color in segregated train cars located at the rear of the train. Smoke and dust permeated the air of the rear train car; this was also where coal was placed into the engine.
Dad recounted how they stopped every four hours to exercise while on route to San Diego. Lunch was brought outside, because the colored men were not permitted to eat inside railroad dining cars. The white officers of the 51st Battalion, however ate inside the dining cars. Captured German prisoners of war traveled with better amenities and treatment than the Montford Point Marines. Meanwhile, the Colored enlisted men socialized with each other and developed a camaraderie. I will write more on the preferential treatment that Axis POWs received over African Americans in the future.
Source:123rf.com
Vintage Map of San Diego
When dad arrived in San Diego, CA, the 51st Defense Battalion were not immediately deployed. The military leaders were not exactly sure what to do with the men. Additionally, Dad had no idea where in the Pacific or when he was going to be shipped out during World War II. World War II contained two theatres of war: The Pacific and The European.
The Allies consisted of the following countries: France, Britain, United States, and the Soviet Union. Allied countries were opposed by The Axis Powers. The Axis Powers were a military and political alliance between Germany, Italy and Japan. The Axis powers desired dominance in their respective area of Europe, Mediterranean and the Pacific. They promised not to intervene in each other's objectives and to stop the spread of Communism. Minor Axis countries were Bulgaria, Romania, Hungary, Croatia and Slovakia. Collaborators for the Axis Powers were Vichy France, and Neutral but aiding the Axis was Spain. Italy ended up changing alliances.*
Source: www.regentsprep.org
Source:www.slideshare.net
Of course, Americans at this time despised the Japanese for their attack at Pearl Harbor in Hawaii in the early morning hours of December 1941. Headlines of this day were not very flattering and used derogatory terms. The leader of Nazi Germany was Adolph Hitler, who sanctioned hatred towards Jews, Catholics, Blacks, Jehovah Witnesses, etc. German propaganda at the time sanctioned the ideal of the "Master" Aryan Race which consisted of blond, blue eyed prototypes. Aryans were supposedly superior to all races and ethnicities. Adolph Hitler convinced the majority of his German people that the "Final Solution" would be in the best interests of the German Empire. "The Final Solution" was the horrific extermination of all Jews who Hitler believed to be the enemy. Countries were invaded by the Axis Powers all around the world. So unsurprisingly, the 51st Defense Battalion were ready to go into battle against the Axis powers.
Montford Point Marines were given extensive praise during training. Dad still remembers seeing Sgt. Major Gilbert "Hashmark" Johnson (1905-1972) and vividly describes the patches for service that decorated his uniform. "Hashmark" Johnson was so named because he served with honor in the US Army, Navy AND Marines. Johnson was one of the first Black Marines and a drill instructor. Obviously he was a formidable man with a strong presence. Dad always speaks about Hashmark Johnson with awe in his voice.
Source: www.montfordpointmarines.com
Sgt Major Gilbert "Hashmark" Johnson
"Man, we partied so hard," Dad exclaimed about his early days in San Diego. "We went down to Tijuana, Mexico because it was so close to San Diego over the border. There were 35 cent tequilas, and we were having a good old time! Until the Pittsburgh Courier wrote an article asking about the whereabouts of the "Lost Battalion". The Pittsburgh Courier was a preeminent Negro newspaper that had a large readership across America. All of Black America was watching, and the story made big news during 1943.
Source: Blackusa.com
The story of the "Lost Battalion" was important in many ways. Negro Athlete Jesse Owens triumphantly took home four gold medals in track events at the 1936 Berlin Summer Olympics in Hitler's Germany. Similarly, the 51st Defense Battalion represented an important chapter in American History. The Negro were marginalized within American society through institutionalized racism. Black combat soldiers were ready to prevail against discrimination whether stateside, or anywhere in the world. The Pittsburgh Courier raised questions and demanded answers. Where was the 51st Defense Battalion and why were they missing in action?
Source: www.biography.com
Jesse Owens
51st Defense Battalion member Clifford Primus' party days would be soon coming to an end.
Dorothy Primus was born in 1931 in Nashville, TN. She grew up in a middle class household where her dad ( Frederick Brooks) was a railroad worker. In the forties for a Colored Person, a railroad worker was an enviable job, because it was steady work, and it had great benefits. (Another example would be employment at the post office during that era, now-- not so much) My maternal grandmother, Ellen Brooks, I never met, but she was a housewife and quiet. Mom had two sisters, and was considered beautiful. As a young girl she was a majorette, played classical and blues piano and represented her schools via beauty titles. Beauty Pageants are really big in the American South. (Witness the Honey Boo Boo reality show phenomenon on TLC). Mom attended Pearl High School in Nashville, TN.
In school my mother was picked on because of her long hair that cascaded down her back. She said that after school my grandmother would chastise her. Mom was reprimanded because the girls did Mom's hair in a different style than Grandma sent her to school.
However, other girls would then taunt her and call Mom "Horse Hair". So on one hand the girls were praising her hair, and on the other, her classmates would say cruel things about her. Some of my readers might have friends and family members who have a multi-racial or "ambiguious" appearance. They ultimately have the same painful story of someone staring at them intently, taking in their features, examining their hair texture. Usually an insensitive remark or back-handed compliment follows.
The taunting and drama also reminds me of Spike Lee's 1988 film, School Daze, where at a HBCU intra-racism was explored by the "Jiggaboos" vs the "Wannabees". This theme was one of many themes explored in this motion picture. Spike Lee intentionally separated the cast members to create tension on the movie set. Famous actors in School Daze included Laurence Fishbourne, Giancarlo Esposito, Samuel L. Jackson, Jasmine Guy, and Tisha Campbell Martin.
Dorothy Primus was also light skinned which confounded her problems. Students would accuse her of thinking that she was better than them. The intra-racism coupled with favoritism was a source of contention for my mom. She really was focused on her education, and graduated from high school early with the intention of majoring in business education at Tennessee State University. Mom was 5"7", (5'7'' and up is considered tall for females) had a great figure, and scores of folks urging her to run for Miss Tennessee State. Her dispostion was mild mannered and Mom was a typical southern gal.
Mom in her late teens.
My mother had broad African features, but also almond shaped eyes. She met my dad, Montford Point Marine, Clifford Primus, as a college freshman at TSU. Dad is eight years older than my mom and had just transferred from Fisk University. They would joke about their courtship, and how my mom poured her alcoholic drink in a plant when he wasn't looking. Mom was trying to impress my dad and appear cosmopolitan. My parents often talked about all the happening spots in Nashville, and my mother's various relatives that lived in nearby Thompson Station.
Source: Black Collegiatv.net
Source: hbcudigest.com
The two of them would share with me the fact that the African Students that attended schools in Nashville were not subject to segregation. Africans were treated better than American Blacks because they were foreign. The aforementioned "Pretty Willie" from the previous post decided to don a head turban and pretend that he was an African student. He was able to sit in lower level of the segregated movie theater with the white patrons instead of the upper level balcony seats where the colored folks had to sit. Dad said he and his classmates pelted "Pretty Willie", faux Africans and actual Africans with spitballs in protest. Additionally, Black college students who were "passing" occupied seats in the whites only section. They too, received spitballs from their darker skinned college classmates.
Dad explained that while at Fisk, the first dark skinned Miss Fisk, was nominated. Her name was Florence Brocheau and a segment of veterans helped her get nominated. Many of the students that attended Fisk were descendents of mixed race unions from slavery. Fisk was founded after manumission by an official from the Tennesse Freedmen's Bureau. The school's objective was to provide educational opportunities for former slaves. W.E. B. Dubois, an alumni/ faculty member at Fisk and founder of The NAACP (National Association for the Advancement of Colored People) has a famous quote:
"The problem of the twentieth century is the problem of the color-line--the relation of the darker to the lighter races of men in Asia and Africa, in America and the islands of the sea. It was a phase of this problem thatcaused the color line."
Clifford and Dorothy Primus
Source: Primus Family
I had a maternal great Aunt Bessie, a domestic, who worked for a wealthy white family. Aunt Bessie always walked around with her large purse. Aunt Bessie carried her purse like the commedienne Sheryl Underwood from CBS's "The Talk" did during her comedy sets. Aunt Bessie and her husband Clem resided waaay in the back of her employers' property. They lived in the slave, I mean, "the help" quarters.
Whenever Dad would visit Aunt Bessie's employers Dad would affect an antebellum Negro servant accent, and peppered his speech with lots of "yessums" and "ma'm"s. He would clown around and get a country ham out of his Academy Award winning performance, and then laugh at their expense. The truth of the matter is that my father is a militant person; he is the type of person that will look around a business establishment and demand, "How come you don't have any black people working here?!" He then would watch the individual turn beet red and hem and haw. Eventually a person of color would be hired.
It turns out that in my mom's youth that she was a "playmate" for the daughter of Aunt Bessie's employer. The little girl had to be referred to as "Miss Kitty", due to post-slavery southern conventions. Mom was rewarded with a truckload of clothing being a friend for this little girl. "Miss Kitty" and my mom were two children roughly the same age. One child was given a title in front of her name because of her race and socio-economic status.
My folks relocated to Hartford, CT and were married in June of 1949. They had a daughter and then seven years later a son. Ten years later Clifford and Dorothy had fraternal twins, one of them being me. Even though my mom lived in New England for over sixty years, she never lost her Nashville accent. She was unassuming, and was not materialistic. Degrees did not impress her. Greek Letters or the latest designer hand bags did nothing for her. She would talk to everyone, and never looked down on people because of their income.
Dorothy Primus was a member of Jehovah's Witness for fifty one years. She knew her bible and whenever she used to talk about her spirituality she was peaceful and evolved into Fluent Scholar Mode. At age 34 she developed rheumatoid arthritis in her hands. She worked for the state of Connecticut, the Department of Motor Vehicles, and went in every day. I never recalled her staying home sick. Mom commuted via the bus to work everyday, despite having a driveway full of late model cars.( Dad had a great relationship with a car dealership in Windsor. The owner, Bill Selig, would call periodically and advise him of a new car on the premises.)
Growing up Jehovah's Witness meant no Christmas or Birthday celebrations. But we did have "gatherings" and socials events. I recall having sleepovers and playing musical chairs, and get togethers where it seemed liked everyone played the piano and sang. I had two piano teachers: Sister Wright, who played a fierce "Flight of the Bumble Bee" and wore high heels into her late eighties, and the lovely and kind Sister Harvey, who was always made up. (Piano lessons were four dollars an hour). Sister Wright tickled me. When I was an adult she asked to help drive with me since I was relocating to Florida in 1991. She needed to go to her hometown of Charleston, South Carolina. I thought no way would the elderly diva be able to drive my five speed manual Mitsubishi Eclipse. Wrong. Carletta Wright was an expert driving down Interstate 95. Plus she gave me an impromptu tour of Historic Charleston.
There were roller skating trips and a generous sister named Sister Albano who sewed halter tops for us pre-adolecent girls. (Halter tops as adolescent teens would be out of the question.) We interacted with people of all races and my mother had bible studies with various individuals. In the eighties, Hartford, CT had an influx of Cambodian and Vietnamese refugees. So my mom helped the refugees with their English and had bible studies with these groups. Also, instead of pictures of Martin Luther King, Jr. and African Art, our living room was adorned with a large Chinese Print. (Of course we had sacred Ebony and Jet magazines neatly stacked on the coffee table). Some of my mother's favorite garments were Asian inspired.
My mom's long cascading hair was later cut short, but it was thick and healthy. For many years, to borrow a phrase from author Malcolm Gladwell's best selling book Outliers, my mom, "Painted her hair". It was Clariol's Nice and Easy, Light Auburn. In her sixties, she abandoned the peroxide and her hair became a flattering gray/white mixture. My mother was never caught up in the "good hair" vs "bad hair" or light skinned vs dark skin foolishness, which was really established by notorious slave plantation owner Willie Lynch to divide and conquer Black people. Lynch bragged that his methods would last for many centuries, and to this day his techniques have separated people of color, diluting their power. Infighting only makes oppressed groups weaker, so the entire Team light- skinned vs. Team dark- skinned rivalry perpetuates racism.
As a youngster, I remember sitting on my mother's lap and asking her in my innocent voice, "Mom, how come you are white?" She did not answer me because I was too young to understand. She made sure that I knew that I was loved by her and she called me "Sweetie". She would sing to me, buy me school workbooks and as an adult would beam with pride when I answered Jeopardy Questions correctly. Mom was not much of a cook, or baker, but her smile would light up the room like it was Las Vegas.
When persistent, malicious untruths targeted towards her youngest daugher, Sweetie, effected her well being, she never received them as truth. These lies were unfounded by both of my parents. My father, an eighty-nine year old Marine and Medal of Honor Receipient, apologized and asked for my forgiveness which I freely granted. Also, after deciding to relocate to another state for better job opportunities, she understood, because this is what people did to thrive.
Mom's rheumatoid arthritis was the cause of her retiring early. She still practiced her faith, and called people on the phone to "witness" to them. My parents were in Florida in the winter of 1991. Dad would wait in the car, and my mom witnessed to people while in her wheel chair. He hated to see my mom suffer in pain towards the end of her life. For over twenty years, Dad was mom's primary caretaker, making sure the household was run efficiently and meals were planned. People commended him for sticking by her. Some spouses would bail out and divorce. Dorothy and Clifford Primus's marriage had its ups and downs as most marriages. I would not even attempt to paint a Camelot/Huxtable motif.
Mom discovered that she has an entire branch of her family that is Chinese. At age eighty. They have Afro-Asian family reunions. So I now have to research her genealogical side. Her affinity for Asian culture clearly was no accident. With mom being southern and eighty- two the lineage could more than likely be attributed to Chinese laboreres and railroad builders who migrated to the US, assisting in building the transcontinental railroad and our country. The Chinese too were faced with discriminatory laws that serverely curtailed their lifestyles.
I am blessed to have know my mother, who was the one of the sweetest and unassuming individuals I have ever known. We sang songs together, like jazz singer Ella Fitzgerald's, "A Tisket A Tasket" and singer activist Harry Belafonte's calypso song, "Day O". My parents had their own way of communicating with one another. The last time she spoke to dad she said, "See you later, alligator", which was a popular song and saying back in the day. This was how they usually said goodbye when Dad would go out on an errand.
Those were the last words my mother uttered.
Dorothy Brooks Primus is buried in a Veteran's cemetary, in Windsor, CT, since she is the spouse of a Marine. She is survived by her grieving husband, Clifford Primus, age 89, her children, grandchildren, friends, and relatives. We will miss that beautiful smile and relentless spirit knowing that she always kept it positive. Dorothy Primus: ( 1931-2013)
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