The play was called “Court-Martial at Fort Devens,” written by a Chicagoan named Jeffrey Sweet who came across their story while looking through microfiche of a 1945 New York newspaper. It was a little discovery that opened up a whole chapter of American history for him and for us.

A flyer-postcard for "Court-Martial at Fort Devens," which recounts the story of a group of black women in the Women's Army Corps.

Sweet’s play at the Castillo Theater in New York is based on the true story of four black female WACs who refused an officer’s order that they clean bathrooms and mop floors. They had come into an Army whose sensibilities of race and gender were in tune with the world outside it – that black women weren’t fit for anything more than that. On stage, their change in status was shown as much by a bucket and mop as their stripping from white to blue uniforms. Two of them decided to disobey the order and face court martial. They were tried in military court and found guilty.

I enjoyed the plot for its historical context, and I especially thought the dialogue was natural and the actors seemed at ease with their roles. I found the play, though, a bit awkward in its presentation. The nine-member cast assumed several different roles, and it was jarring to see a person playing one role one minute and another the next with little costume change. Cast members sat around the wall as observers when their characters were not in a scene – which was disconcerting. Couldn’t they have waited behind the set?

My theater buddy Kristin nodded off a few times, and later said that the off-Broadway play was not engaging. Her assessment wasn’t too far off from a 2007 review of the play when it was first performed in Chicago. That reviewer found it “emotionally uninvolving.” Another said that it was too limiting for such an expansive story.

The play was not heavy on drama; you could say it was mild. It did make me curious about the story behind it. Who were these women? And what compelled them to do such a brave thing?

I could find very little via Google on the incident. A 1943 article in the Lewiston Daily Sun newspaper in Maine noted that four women were on trial for court martial, accusing the Army of racial discrimination. According to a Time magazine article in 1945, the women were stationed at Lovell General Hospital at Fort Devens and were members of a company of 99 African American WACs. They had been among 60 of them, mostly orderlies, who contended in a sit-down strike that they “were given menial jobs and treated badly because they were black.”

These four were found guilty of disobeying a superior’s order and received dishonorable discharges.

A black laboratory technician at Fort Jackson State Hospital at Fort Jackson, SC, in 1944. National Archives photo.

The women were protesting their treatment up north – where life was supposed to be better for blacks – at a time when down South black men were being trained as pilots. We know the story of the Tuskegee Airmen (they, too, faced the demons of discrimination), but little about the African American women who served in the military. Interestingly, the program notes for the play were offered by a Tuskegee Airman, who wrote mostly about a similar incident related to the pilots rather than the real story of the Fort Devens’ women.

Black women, it seemed, were among the first to join the Women’s Auxiliary Army Corps (WAAC) when it was formed in 1942 at the prodding of a female Massachusetts congresswoman named Edith Nourse Rogers. Working with the American Red Cross during World War I, she had seen a British model of the corps and wanted the same here.

The WAAC was not part of the military but worked with it. The first contingent of 400 white women and 40 black women (there was a 10 percent limit on black recruits) started training in Fort Des Moine, IA. They were segregated in their housing, training, recreation and where they ate. They worked in a variety of positions, including postal clerks, motor truck drivers, typists, and laboratory, surgical and dental technicians.

In 1943, the WAAC melded into the WAC, whose members were given military status. More than 150,000 women served in the WAC during the war, and one site noted that more than 6,500 black women were among them. Women were not exactly welcomed (as shown in the play). They were recruited for a number of reasons, mostly to free up men for combat. According to several sites, though, some men were not too eager to head off to fight – and possibly die – in a war.

One of the first group of black WACs to go overseas was the 6888th Central Postal Battalion headed by Charity Adams (Earley), the first African American woman officer in the WAC. She was a major then, and later became a lieutenant colonel. She apparently bumped heads with the brass, too, after an officer admonished her for not having all her WACs available for an inspection, according to a New York Times obituary in 2002 relating an incident from her memoir. He told her he’d show her how to handle her battalion. She adamantly said no and was threatened with a court martial, which never happened.

Adams and more than 800 other women arrived in Birmingham, England, in 1945, then moved on to Rouen, France, before ending up in Paris. Working around the clock in three shifts, their job was to get the mail from back home out to American soldiers and others in Europe.

The New York play had its own black female WAC officer, who did a superb job of trying to walk a tightrope between a by-the-books military adherent and a black woman who faced the same tyranny as the women who shared her skin color.

Go see the play for its history and not necessarily its drama. It’s time well spent.

The full flyer-postcard for "Court-Martial at Fort Devens."

Related posts:

1. Black soldiers and World War II
2. Little-known black actress named Theresa Harris
3. Black women at center stage

One such mystery captivated me at auction this week. I had missed the two items on the auction table on my first walk-through, both lying almost hidden beneath glassware, Hummel-type figurines and a cane. 

One was a dainty pink hankie of sheer fabric with embroidered flowers, and American and French flags. The other was also sheer fabric with a flower; embroidered across the top were the words “To My Dear Sister,” with a note card inside. When I turned that one over, I saw that it was a postcard, but with no stamp. It did have a handwritten note and address:

Dear Sis:
Accept this Souvenir Card
from your brother
as a token of
Remembrance.

Your brother,
Philip

The sister lived in Greensboro, Md. The note card simply read: “To Josephine from Philip F. Vonville.” Commercially printed on the card were the words “Souvenir from France.”

I can only assume that Philip was a soldier (the items had a patriotic feel to them), and possibly was serving in France during one of the world wars. I could find nothing else at the auction bearing his name or showing any connection to either of them – although I’m sure there must have been other items there from either his life or hers.

But there together, these gifts were a sweet reminder of a strong bond between brother and sister. They were very sentimental. I wasn’t around when the items were auctioned, so I’m not sure what they went for. Likely, they were sold as part of a lot with the other items near them on the auction table.  

For me, one of the allures of auctions are mysteries like these. Who were these people? What kind of life did they lead? Was pink Josephine’s favorite color?

So I plugged Philip’s name in Google, and a Philip F. Vonville did come up. He was listed in the honor roll of men and women from Caroline County, Md., who were killed during World War I. I found another Philip Vonville from World War II, who apparently fought bravely in the battle for Okinawa. He, though, was from Columbus, OH.

Which are you, Philip? I’d love to know.

By sending this memento to his sister, Vonville was doing what countless other soldiers have done through many wars, along with sending home letters. (I wrote a post a couple months ago about a doctor’s letters to his family, the most wrenching of which were the conditions he saw at one of Hitler’s concentration camps.) It’s their reciprocal version of families sending care packages and letters to loved ones fighting away from home.

During the Civil War, families and soldiers exchanged carte de visites, portraits of themselves on small cards measuring 2¼” by 3¾”. (An aside: Practically everyone had these portraits made, including Sojourner Truth, who sold hers to raise money to support her abolition work. On the front of her carte de visite: “I sell the shadow to support the substance.”

During World War I, soldiers sent home what became known as “sweetheart jewelry,” pieces that they either bought or made while in the trenches (called “trench art“). The jewelry was a necklace, bracelet or pin made of such materials as silver, wood or pearl, and representing a branch of the military. It was given as a sign of love and remembrance. Most – like the hankie and post card – had a patriotic theme.

I had never heard of sweetheart jewely. Here are some examples on this website, which has pieces for sale.

In my Google research, I came across one WWII veteran who told of the items he sent home to his younger brothers: British binoculars, a German helmet and bayonet, and a swastika arm band from Normandy. I also found a story about a sister who sold medals and other items her brother had left to her after he, a British soldier, was killed in Afghanistan in 2008. She used the money to pay for a Mediterranean cruise, according to several newspaper accounts.

That’s a far cry from Philip and Josephine. What mementoes have your soldiers sent to you? I’d love to hear about them.

Related posts:

1. As spring nudges, a look back at Victory Gardens
2. Soldiers and their keepsakes from war
3. Black soldiers and World War II

A few others were of the same black man, in handsome military officer dress, apparently at a special party or event. I wanted those photos. It’s not often that I come across photos of black people, and even rarer to find military photos.

Bidding on the photo of the officer started first. I jumped in. Then another woman bidded against me. We went back and forth for awhile, but she was determined. She got the photos, explaining to me afterward that she doesn’t often come across soldiers in dress uniform.

She was bidding on the photos to sell. I was bidding on our history.

I did get one set of photos: the 10 black men in khaki uniforms staring into the camera. Faces firm, stoic, no smiles. World War II.  A time when racism, segregation and discrimination made for a tough experience for black men in the military. Behind the faces, what horror stories do these soldiers have to tell?

There were four photos of the same group of men. On the back was stamped:

RELEASED BY ARMY AIR FORCES
If used for publication, please credit as below
OFFICIAL PHOTOGRAPH U.S. ARMY AIR FORCES

I believe these photos belonged to a man named Lt. Oliver Salisbury, who had written O. Salisbury in ink on the backs of two photos. Also printed on the backs of two photos were ids on all the men (apparently written by Salisbury).

The other men were Lt. William E. Williamson, Lt. Edwin A. Campbell, Lt. Dickerson, Lt. Burns, Lt. Best, Lt. Hudson, Lt. Wiley, Lt. Montrose, Lt. Johnson.

Who were these soldiers? Where was the photo taken? Were they among the black aviators who were part of the Tuskegee Experiment? Did they train in Tuskegee, or elsewhere? Why did the U.S. Army Air Force distribute this photo? Was it propaganda?

There is no date on the photo, but the U.S. Army Air Force became the U.S. Air Force in 1947. Could the photo be from the 1940s? I have all kinds of questions about these men, and I’m still looking for the answers.

We’re all familiar with the Tuskegee Airmen and Tuskegee Institute’s historic role in training black pilots during World War II.  But the so-called Tuskegee Experiment also included training for navigators, bombardiers, maintenance and support staff, instructors and others. The soldiers in my photo may not have been pilots but may have been involved in other areas of the program.  

Early on, the training was not done exclusively at Tuskegee. When the federal government first authorized flight training for African Americans in 1939, Howard University and Hampton Institute joined Tuskegee in providing some preliminary training. By 1941, Tuskegee was the one that offered advanced training and produced the pilots, becoming the main source during the war.

According to the Tuskegee Airmen website, up until 1946, when the flying school ended, 994 pilots graduated from the program. Black navigators, bombardiers and gunnery crews were trained at military bases elsewhere in the country. Mechanics were trained at Chanute Air Base in Illinois before Tuskegee took over the training in 1942, according to the site.

Despite their prowess in war and the eventual desegregation of the Air Force, the black pilots could not defeat racism at home. Do you recognize any of these men? Let’s not forget them today, of all days – Veteran’s Day.

A bit of history: Eugene Jacques Bullard was the first black military pilot in history and the only one in World War I. In 1917, he fought as an American volunteer in the French army. He was born in Columbus, GA, on October 9, 1894, spent much of his life as an expatriate in France after the first war, fought against the Germans in the French army in World War II and returned to the United States after the war. He was posthumously named a second lieutenant in the U.S. Air Force in 1994.

Related posts:

1. Who are these WWII black soldiers?
2. Soldiers and their keepsakes from war
3. Being black and a WAC in World War II