Two Colored Women with the American Expeditionary Forces
9781465677525
213 pages
Library of Alexandria
Overview
The great thrilling, throbbing spirit of war did not reach the United States until that memorable spring of 1918. Then it came in a mighty tidal wave of vitalized force and energy. Our country, woefully late, was at last awakened to terrific speed. Great human cargoes and innumerable tons of supplies held transports and ships to their guards. Cities, towns and villages were suddenly transformed into great inspirational centers of war activity. Meanwhile we were watching the map of France, noting with deep anxiety the stubborn resistance of the war-weary French to the slow but certain advance of the enemy. Once again it moved with pitiless and determined face toward Paris—the heart stream of all France. Although General Joffre had once checked the German raiders and sent them to confusion and death, their lesson was not yet learned and they were again throwing human force against the principles of right. But now that so many of the heroes of France had fallen, how would the foe be met? Surely there was urgent need of a strong army to stand at the Marne once again. The American Forces already in France were calling not only for help, but haste. Suddenly, we found ourselves included in this call with passport in hand. Not all at once did its full significance come to us, but in those waiting days, as we sat at our desk and tried to concentrate on war-work at home, quite unconsciously, we would find the passport in our hands and our eyes searching the war map on the wall. Slowly we began to realize that we were to make an effort to reach “over there” where thousands of our own men had gone and other thousands must go. Then one dark afternoon, as the rain came down in torrents, the buzz of the telephone at our elbow told us our time had come. We asked no questions, for those were days of deep secrecy, but looked for the last time at the war map in the office—studied it as never before, wondering where in that war-wrecked country across the Atlantic we would find our place of service. We breathed a little prayer, said good-bye to our fellow workers, knowing that tomorrow we would be on the ocean eastward bound and went out to meet her who was to try the unknown with us and who would prove the faithful companion of all our “overseas” life. There was no sleep that night for us; friends came and went, and two ever faithful ones lingered lovingly for the last possible service. Of necessity, in those days, there were strict laws and many sentries at the docks, so that when we entered there was little hope of rejoining our loved ones for a second adieu. We took the precaution, however, to beg them to wait for a final sign of parting and while going through the ordeal of having baggage examined and passed, learned that our sailing time had been delayed four hours. We determined upon an effort to rejoin those waiting so patiently outside the dock. Making a wide detour, we passed quietly by the sentry who was striding to and fro with gun on his shoulder. Now whether he could not quite grasp the fact that colored women were really going to join the American Expeditionary Forces, or had seen the close clinging hug given one of the women by the little lad and lassie near him—or whether the twinkle in our eye did it, we do not know—but we passed, and in that very act much of the sadness of our parting was removed. We rode across 14th Street, a jolly party, had our lunch and returned to the dock, where from an upper pier with smiles and tears all mingled, we waved a final adieu.
