Читать книгу Tuskegee Airman, 4th Edition - Charlene E. McGee - Страница 6

1940-1942

•In 1940, Congress passed a law requiring all males between 21 and 35 to register for military service.

•President Roosevelt issued Executive Order 8802 banning discrimination in companies doing business with the government and formed the Fair Employment Practice Committee.

•Against the wishes of the War Department, the U.S. Congress, bowing to pressure from Negro leaders and media, activated the first all-black Fighter Squadron at Tuskegee Institute, Alabama.

•On December 7, 1941, Pearl Harbor was bombed and the United States declared war on Japan.

•Allied forces fought Italian and German forces in Northern Africa in 1942.

Black students at the University of Illinois in 1940 were few and far between. There was no housing for them on campus so most, not being locals, had to find rooms in Champaign's North End, home to the majority of the Negro population. Charles took up residence with the Brown family who lived on the corner of 6th and White Street. At first, his "room" was in the basement in a finished space by the furnace, but soon after he moved up to the second floor room with an outside entrance added to accommodate a boarder. He had a place to stay, along with his own shelf in the Browns' ice box: the basic necessities, once he provided the food.

A new engineering student on campus, he soon was introduced to a small group of fellow classmates in similar circumstances, who left the black neighborhood to cross town to the

white university, a trek that set them apart from most who lived in the North End. Bonds developed as they shared universal college experiences, from study and intellectual debates to social activities and romance.

Though Charles’ head was deep in the books, Frances Edwina Nelson was able to turn it. He never forgot the first time he saw her. She was among friends who had gathered on the college green known as the Quad. A tall, brown-skinned beauty with long legs, long hair and penetrating dark eyes, she made quite an impression.

To his great disappointment, those unforgettable eyes did not look his direction and he didn’t even manage an introduction.

The next time Charles saw Frances was following Sunday school services several weeks later. Shortly after coming to Champaign, Charles had joined Bethel AME Church continuing to practice his family's African Methodist faith. Frances and her immediate family were members of Salem Baptist Church which was one block east of Bethel. In time honored tradition, young people would gather after services in the block between these prominent pillars of the black community. A weekly ritual, the purpose was to see and be seen before parents whisked their sons and daughters away. On one of these occasions, Charles maneuvered his way over and managed an introduction to Frances, but by her account she did not find the meeting memorable. She was enamored with another young man, Welton "Ike" Taylor, who with her held the campus title for king and queen of jitterbug.

"She had her eye on Ike, so she didn't remember our first meeting."

Frances' family had standing in the Champaign-Urbana community. Her father, Franklin Joseph Nelson, had been a successful businessman and land owner, who left his widow Nellie Carter Nelson (Momma Nellie) and their two children, Leonard and Frances, well provided for after his death in 1935.

Among the land holdings he left his heirs was the large family home at 607 N. Hickory Street, which still had the attached general store Franklin operated for decades. The home served as a boarding house for permanent residents as well as transient visitors. Charles learned Frances was living at home while attending the University. Focusing on the business of being a student, he stayed in the background and waited for her jitterbug partner to fade from the scene.

Living in a relatively small and close knit community had its advantages. Before long their paths crossed again. Not all the Nelsons were Baptists. Frances had a older half brother, Cecil, who was born to Franklin and his first wife. Cecil Nelson and wife Carrie were members of Bethel AME, a circumstance which worked in Charles' favor when they invited Momma Nellie to attend a Sunday afternoon program and she brought Frances along. During the program, a Tom Thumb wedding was planned for the following Sunday afternoon. By a stroke of fate, Charles and Frances were chosen to play the bride and groom. Charles allowed himself the luxury of imagining he was the reason she agreed to participate. At that affair they became acquainted.

No one suspected the Tom Thumb Wedding was a harbinger of things to come.

Life at the U. of I. was a great adventure for Charles his first semester. The discipline that got him through high school was being challenged on a new level. It was a time to apply himself to his studies. No matter what lay ahead, Charles knew education was the path to personal growth and scholarly pursuits the key to professional success.

Another goal of his was to be a member of the Alpha Phi Alpha fraternity and to do that he had to make good grades. The fact his dad and uncle were Alphas may have influenced him, but beyond that, Charles liked the things the fraternity stood for. The fraternity motto summarized it: "First of all, servants of all, we shall transcend all."

The "Big Brothers" on campus were a principled, studious bunch which also appealed to Charles. Some members like Dunbar McLaurin were graduate students, a rare occurrence for young black men of the era. The Alphas had a house near the campus which was another attraction. Living there would eliminate the long walk from the North End. Charles along with six other Alpha aspirants joined the line of pledges.

The road to brotherhood had its obstacles. They were set intentionally to test the mettle of Sphinxmen, the name given to Alpha pledges. Entry was the objective, pledging was the pathway, and hazing was the norm. No matter how smart and savvy Sphinxmen were in other settings, when "Big Brother" was around, there was no questioning his authority.

The inferior status of pledges subjected them to various demands they had to carry out on the spot.

"Recite Invictus."

"Recite If."

Being prepared to perform more "erudite" orders was essential, but not all commands were so scholarly.

"Count all the bricks in the north wall of Huff Gym!"

"Yes, Big Brother! No, Big Brother! And no excuse, Big Brother!" were replies expected from the pledges.

"Drop and give me twenty (push ups)" and "assume the position" (paddles were not merely ornamental) were frequent commands from the already inducted Alpha Men.

All and all, the hazing by Tau Chapter was not as vicious or extreme as some Greek organizations. The pledging was more directed toward discipline, bonding, and ultimately loyalty among brothers. The common objective was worthy. (Ironically, aspects of pledging were not unlike military training imposed for many of the same reasons.)

By second semester, Charles had ended his days as a pledge. He passed the tests, made the grades and "crossed the burning sands," becoming an Alpha Man.

Charles knew Frances loved to dance and despite the strict rules laid down by Momma Nellie, she managed to stop by the Kappa Alpha Psi House to indulge this passion as often as possible. Unlike the Alphas, the Kappas were known for their open parties and Charles envied them for no other reason than her visits. At the Kappa House, Frances was a regular in the "enter at your own risk" room reserved for the most daring and accomplished jitterbugs. Not in her league on the dance floor, he watched, stepped in on slow dances and bided his time.

When the draft started in 1940, Charles received his draft card from Gary, Indiana. At the time, college students weren't being called.

"I always remember I had a bicycle at Dad's place in Gary and I don't remember the number...might have been something like 1709, but the license of my bicycle and the draft card number were exactly the same."

He was struck by the coincidence.

Charles, working hard as an engineering major, was also enrolled in ROTC and a member of Pershing Riffles, an elite drill team. Academic rigors coupled with social distractions to take their toll, and second semester Charles' grades began to suffer. At the same time his funds were dwindling. Summer employment was essential for him to have enough cash to return to school the following year. The answer to his financial woes lay in the steel mills of Gary, Indiana.

On July 19,1941, as 21 year old Charles toiled in the mills, thirteen young Negro men gathered on the campus of Tuskegee Institute, Alabama, to form the first class of black pilot trainees for the Army Air Corps.

In the mills of the Carnegie Illinois Steel Company, Charles pulled the graveyard shift on a construction crew. Along with other blacks who were fortunate enough to find employment in the steel industry, his assignments were the menial, back breaking tasks of running concrete for the furnaces or mopping

up the foundry buildings, but the pay was more than most other jobs and therefore a necessary means to the desired end.

Occasionally, after a long evening on the job, Charles mustered the energy to go into Chicago to enjoy night life the city offered. The early morning bus ride back and precious few hours of sleep before his next shift were deterrents to keep him from making it a regular habit. When he let his mind wonder, it consistently settled on a young woman enjoying less arduous summer days in Champaign, but his budget permitted no more than daydreams. So he applied himself to work and hoped his absence would not provide an unfair advantage to rivals for Frances' affection. Short term sacrifice for long term gain! It was a principle already ingrained in his philosophy.

The war in Europe would not be fended off by aspirations of higher education or thoughts of budding love. In response to increasing concern about events overseas, the draft was reaching into the sanctuary of the college classroom. In the beginning it was easy to resist the notion he would become involved, especially before finishing school. That was no longer the case.

Not long after returning to campus in 1941, Charles was between classes heading south from Wesley Foundation to the Chemistry Building. He spotted Frances walking toward Green Street. They spoke briefly as their paths crossed. After taking a few steps, Charles turned hoping to get another glimpse of her. To his delight, she had done the same and was looking back too. Their eyes met, she smiled and, in that brief exchange, doubt evaporated and the mystical die was cast.

Afterward, they spent time together at church and Frances consented when he asked to walk her home from classes. From then they were together whenever possible. Without a lot of money, “library dates” were frequent. Charles credited these with getting him back on track academically. He had changed his major to Life Sciences and was making the Dean's List. Nevertheless, it was a struggle to stay in school. Tuition and housing were a big expenses and after they were taken care of

he was lucky to have a nickel to buy an apple. To earn money for food, he bussed dishes at one of the fraternity houses and the Champaign Country Club.

By the end of the semester just about everyone knew of someone who had been drafted. Charles' father had served as a commissioned officer and chaplain with the infantry in France during World War I. He spoke enough about his experience to paint a vivid picture of life as a ground soldier in combat and it was grim. Yet what option did Charles have? If called upon, he knew he would have to slosh through muddy woods and fields and endure bitter cold while living in uncomfortable encampments and fighting from foxholes. The thought was more than a little unsettling. Though he began to wonder, he didn’t know what other choice he had.

On December 7, 1941 Charles was visiting his father and anticipating a quiet 22nd birthday. At 4:00 pm, while riding with members of the Coleridge Taylor Glee Club from Gary to a church in South Chicago for an evening vespers program, he heard numbing news coming across the radio.

"Today at 7:50 am, Pacific time, the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor...."

The United States declared war against Japan. While the glee club went on with the show that night, the year ahead was suddenly filled with uncertainty and Charles knew that one way or another, we were going to be involved in war.

Back together on campus, he and Frances knew his call to service was just a matter of time. Each day was precious and tomorrow offered no promises, only the hope of being together. They started going steady. Day by day, life went on and Charles continued school and work. In the meantime, Lewis Sr., Lewis Jr. and Ruth, responding to the build up of armed forces, volunteered for the military service.

Early in 1942, as Charles contemplated his fate, news of a possible alternative began to circulate around campus. According to the grapevine, colored soldiers would be taught to fly at Chanute Field in Rantoul, Illinois, just north of Champaign. (As it turned out, non-flying support personnel in communications, engineering, armament and mechanics were being trained at Chanute Field and pilot training was at a remote training school near Tuskegee, Alabama. There, the wife of the President of the United States, Eleanor Roosevelt, had flown with a black pilot, Charles Alfred "Chief" Anderson of the Civilian Pilot Training Program. She was visiting Tuskegee Institute to look into research being done on infantile paralysis, her husband's illness. To the shock of her secret service agents, the flight with "Chief"was an impromptu decision she made. The highly publicized event helped counter skepticism about the ability of blacks to fly and changed lives and history. Mrs. Roosevelt subsequently was reported to have told her husband that if the country was going to train pilots for the coming war, some of them ought to be black.)

The rumored program was real. The War Department approved Army Air Corps plans for an all-black pursuit squadron and funds for training enlisted support personnel at the Air Corps Technical School at Chanute Field in January of 1941. Primary pilot training was awarded to Tuskegee Institute with more advanced instruction slated for Tuskegee Army Air Field to be constructed nearby. From its inception, there had been attempts to scuttle the program, but the war effort needed more pilots and despite racist attitudes, no more impediments to stall the trial program could be justified. The first all-black class (42C, following the Corps wide convention of naming the 3^rd class in each training program in 1942) was in training and Tuskegee Army Air Field was preparing for more trainees. On March 6, 1942, five black men completed the program, four taking the oath of office and pinning on the wings that told the world they were pilots. The fifth graduate, Captain B. O. Davis Jr., commissioned at West Point in 1936, had at last accomplished his long cherished wish to become a pilot.

Closer to home there was tangible evidence of the program’s existence. Fifteen miles north of Champaign at Chanute Field, Colored non flying personnel were being trained to support the 99^th Pursuit pilots in Tuskegee. Frances' nephews, Ernest and Cecil Jr., entered the Chanute program. True enough, a quiet recruiting campaign had been launched to find a select number of candidates to undergo the tough screening process. Those gaining admission entered the strenuous training designed to transform them into a combat unit in the Army Air Corp.

Charles decided to apply. In April of 1942, he was sent to northern Indiana to take the written and physical exams. The screening was unique to Charles and having a black applicant was apparently unique to the recruitment officers, as well.

"There was a guy there who had never dealt with any blacks and he kept filling in the blanks wrong because he was writing (I was) white."

Charles wanted to fly. The decision was not hard. Even with the application submitted, the road to Tuskegee proved to be formidable. The next big hurdle was escaping the long arm of the draft. It took months for applications to move through channels and while the draft could be manipulated for a well-connected few, it was a good bet no favors were granted the ordinary man. Like so many institutions, the draft was political, and it was highly unlikely for a poor black boy to pull strings necessary to delay his call, especially while awaiting orders to a little known "Tuskegee Experiment." In fact, during the anxious months of hoping and waiting to hear their fate, several aspirants were drafted and had to board the troop trains and report to boot camp. Some of these draftees pleaded for consideration.

“I've applied for air training. What can be done?"

The response was, "Well, you're in the infantry now, boy."

Few who were drafted transferred to flying.

In late spring of '42, Charles learned he had passed the test and was accepted in the program. Now it was a question of which call to duty would come first.

After the semester, he went back to the mills, but unlike the preceding summer, he spent hard earned money to make the trip to Champaign whenever he could. Mrs. Foster, one of Momma Nellie's boarders, frequently sat on the screened front porch and often was the first to announce his arrival.

"Frances, that ‘ole square headed boy is here to see you."

The affection they all felt toward Charles was not veiled by the teasing and banter exchanged.

On those visits, he walked downtown with Frances and her mother, carrying the sacks from their shopping excursions. There were evening strolls hand in hand at the county fair. Long talks began to guardedly explore plans for their future after the war.

On those summer evenings Charles and Frances sat on the porch of the house on Hickory Street. They escaped there to have some time alone, for it was hard to make even the most innocent contact under Momma Nellie's watchful eye.

In addition to a kiss, on one night Charles gave his love an engagement ring. With her consent to marry him, they embarked on a lifelong adventure. The night of their engagement was no exception to the vigil kept by Nellie. Shortly after ten o'clock, the lights on the porch flashed, signaling their fleeting time together was ending.

Charles' future was tied to the draft. As it happened he was never called. A member of Lewis Sr.'s AME church who was also a member of the local draft board knew of his acceptance to the Tuskegee flight school. Charles didn’t know it at the time, but this benefactor arranged for his position in the lottery to be "suspended" until he received his orders to report to the special program.

"Years later, on a visit back to Gary, she told me she would just slide my card out of the bunch so they'd pass over it until I got called."

Returning to school in September, 1942, Frances and Charles faced two big decisions. Frances had graduated cum laude from U. of I. and worked for a professor; Charles had two more years. Considering the options, they agreed he would not enroll for the semester as money was too hard to come by to be spent on a semester which in all probability would not be completed. In the face of so much uncertainty, the two knew the main thing they wanted was to spend whatever time they had together.

"We had to make another decision. If I was drafted or called up to Tuskegee where would that leave us? We finally decided to get married."

They set the date, completed hurried arrangements while Charles worked on in the mills, and married on Saturday, October 17. Lewis Sr. came to officiate at his son's wedding. The ceremony took place in Frances' Hickory Street home which had been gaily decorated for the occasion with fall foliage. Momma Nellie and Grandmother Gay were present. A fraternity brother, Nathaniel "Nate" Green, from Chicago served as best man. Stella, Frances' sister-in-law, was the matron of honor. Frances' brother Leonard, like Lewis Jr. and Cecil, was already in the service and unable to attend.

The traditional honeymoon was not in their plans. The morning after the wedding, Charles and Frances headed to Gary to begin their life together. Living with a friend, they had a room to themselves and the bonus, a shelf in the ice box.

I imagine it could not have seemed closer to perfect.

Forgetting the mounting turmoil around them, their world was fresh and new and ever so briefly, time stood still.

On Monday, October 19, 1942, the mail brought Charles' orders. On October 26, he was sworn into the enlisted reserves in preparation for entering Army Air Corps aviation cadet training.