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The Salvation of Music Overseas
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Those who know the native love and ability of our race for music will
not marvel at the statement that colored soldiers sang, whistled and
played their way through the late war. There were days of hunger and
thirst; days full of deathly fatigue; days filled with the dense smoke
and deafening uproar of battle; days when terrible discriminations
and prejudices ate into the soul deeper than the oppressors knew. But
through it all there was salvation—the salvation of the music that
welled so naturally in the souls of the colored soldiers. In the midst
of the French the artistic temperament of our soldiers found a warm
welcome and a favorable atmosphere in which to unfold and find full
expression; and, although it manifested itself in many ways, it found
no other realm half so alluring as that of music. Individually and in
groups, colored soldiers gave themselves to the enjoyment or serious
study of music.
In the hut the average life of a piano was but of short duration.
Every moment from early dawn to late night, this instrument was in
constant use. One became so accustomed to its continuous sounds as to
be unconscious of them. We returned to America hoping that for the
remainder of our lives we might be spared hearing any form of “Blues,”
for whatever else he might play, a fellow would finally finish with a
touching rendition of some one of the many “Blues.”
There were melodies of joy and melodies of sorrow. We heard our
soldiers on the coast of France chanting in unfailing rhythm as they
unloaded the great cargoes from America. We heard them in Southern
France singing in joyous abandon as they sailed Lake Bourget, ascended
Mount Revard or hiked up to Hannibal’s Pass in the Alps. We heard
them in the night watches at Romagne as they tenderly reburied their
comrades who had fallen on the fields of battle. We heard them at the
port again, as they looked longingly towards America and sang, “It’s a
long, long trail.” Ever in our ears will we hear the harmony of those
thousands of voices as they were blended in song for religious service,
for the speed of work or for mere pleasure. Always this music breathed
a wistful poignancy, but always it breathed, too, the matchless will
and spirit of the race who sang. Nothing strengthened more the bond of
loving sympathy that existed between the French and colored American
than this musical temperament. Our bands played their way into the very
souls of the French.
[Illustration: 1. Lieut. James Reese Europe and Men of the 15th
New York. 2. Band Master Oliver Mead. 3. Band of the 815th Pioneer
Infantry, with Men on leave, at Challes-les-Eaux.]
And these bands that always filled us with martial pride and dispelled
all fear and dread! We think, of one night in our camp. The 807th
Pioneer Infantry would entrain on tomorrow for the front. Under its
enthusiastic and highly progressive bandmaster, Lieutenant Vodrey,
this regimental band was giving its last show. Hundreds of black and
white men filled every inch of the spacious hut from floor to rafter.
In the front rows sat the regimental officers, camp officers and
French friends. All eyes centered upon the stage where either the
orchestra of fifty men was playing or Opal Cooper was singing in the
sweetest and most expressive tones, or the men were demonstrating
by act or stunt their wit and humor. The hut rang with applause or
laughter all that wonderful evening. Fun and merriment ran high during
the rather ambitious hut reception given the band after that evening’s
entertainment, for they were trying to eat salad and sherbet without
the use of forks and spoons which they had been told to bring but had
quite promptly forgotten. It was rather difficult to realize that
tomorrow those men would be facing toward the thundering guns at the
front. We heard of the 807th band again and again as it won honors in
France, playing before the crowned heads of the Allies; of their band
leader making an enviable record at a French band school, and finally
we met them again at Brest. There, with a pardonable pride, we bade
them _bon voyage_ as they returned home triumphantly bearing their
laurels.
The fame of Europe’s Band, as it was familiarly called, spread over
all France as well as America. One single occasion on which we were
permitted to hear this band in France is worthy of note. We had been
honored as delegates to the Conference of Allied Women held in Paris in
August, 1918. The program, the delegates, entertainment, everything,
including the garden party tendered by President and Mme. Poincaré, the
afternoon at the home of Mr. and Mrs. Theodore Roosevelt, Jr., and
the banquet at the Palais d’Orsay had quite won our hearty interest
and admiration and we had reached the final and crowning session of
the Conference. The great Theatre Elysées was crowded, although the
lights were yet turned low. Someone informed us that the orchestra in
the pit was composed of colored men. Immediately we came to our feet.
Try as we might we could not see the men, but the leader, Lieutenant
Europe, sat elevated, and so we recognized him. In spite of the
addresses by great personages, in spite of the royal opera singer and
the wonderful chorus, for the remainder of that evening our thoughts
centered themselves about this band of colored Americans playing before
the élite of Europe and America. It was a significant moment when, with
a great martial note, this band of the 15th New York Infantry began
the French National Hymn, summoning the great audience to its feet as
President Poincaré and party entered their box. Time and time again the
playing of these colored Americans thrilled the house into rapturous
applause. After the audience had been dismissed and the lights again
turned low, admiring friends, among whom were Mr. and Mrs. Theodore
Roosevelt, Jr., stood by and the band played on lingeringly and
tenderly as if somewhere voices were whispering that it would be one of
the last great triumphs of its famous leader.
Music was one of the chief attractions furnished by the Leave Area for
the tired, depressed men who were sent there for rest and recreation.
There came the 803rd Pioneer Infantry Band under the capable
direction of Sergeant Major Bailey. These men gave us so much joy and
entertainment in their playing that not only did the Y make efforts to
have them retained permanently in the Leave Area, but the French people
were quite as eager to have them, and showered praises and flowers on
them when at last they were ordered back to their regiment.
Then came the 815th with their fine Western pride and spirit playing
their way, too, into the heart of the Area. We met them again at
Romagne when, with the band of the 816th Pioneer Regiment, they
were playing daily to counteract the depressing influences of their
surroundings. We stood near them and watched with tear-filled eyes as
they paid their humble homage on that memorable thirtieth of May when
General Pershing had come to dedicate that largest military cemetery.
We were with them again at the Port of Brest where, with their
wonderfully stirring music they, too, fought in that battle for morale.
We learned to know them well—those California lads—and to love them.
No finer men went to France than the men who composed the 802nd Pioneer
Infantry, and that may account for the really high quality of the work
of its band. No band seemed to adhere quite so closely to classical
selections, and they would most naturally draw the French to their feet
whenever and wherever they played. While resting in the Leave Area,
they graciously gave us several concerts.
[Illustration: 1. Bugler Hamilton White. 2. Band Leader Wm. Bailey.
3. Sgt. Jefferson, Saxophonist. 4. St. Nazaire Band. 5. Band of the
802d Pioneer Infantry. 6. Band of the 803d Pioneer Infantry.]
We followed the history of the St. Nazaire Band with a certain pride
and interest because, in the early days when we entered that town it
was a small struggling group with but few instruments, the sounds
from which can be but faintly described by the word horrible. It was
encouraged by the Young Men’s Christian Association, who gave it a
thousand dollars for instruments and music. We watched this band grow
and lose its crudeness with almost incredible rapidity, until a year
later, when it visited the Leave Area, it was our joy and pride. It
is sad to record that at the very zenith of popularity, its history
was saddened by the sudden and tragic death of Sergeant Stevenson,
the assistant bandmaster, who fell from a pole at Chambery. Again the
beautiful French spirit was demonstrated by the populace of the town in
a mass of floral offerings at the funeral of this soldier. Always with
the French it was “_Nos fleurs et nos coeurs_.” The writer shall always
have a peculiar remembrance of the St. Nazaire band, for at the time of
the signing of the armistice she had succumbed to a serious illness as
a result of overexertion. For a day or two the outer world was rather
vague to her consciousness, but she was brought back when the band
passed the house playing with full tone and complete abandon “Over
There.” Looking into the face of her associate she learned that the
armistice had been signed and that this playing was but an incident
of the jubilation that had been in progress for several hours.
The Regimental Band of the 805th Pioneer Infantry was organized very
late, but it became famous overnight, especially at Chateau Chehery,
near Grand Pre. The Regimental Headquarters were in the famous and
beautiful Chateau de Chehery, and there the band entertained the
French, British and Americans of high rank who were constant visitors.
The story of the 808th band who had the honor of playing for President
Wilson as he sailed home from Brest in June, is best told by one of its
members who wrote this letter while they were in France:
“When they left Camp Meade the watchword was ‘Over There,’ and as
the band of the dashing 808th Pioneer Infantry played that tuneful
strain upon leaving the good old United States of America, they gave
courage and cheer to the three thousand boys in line, and filled the
hearts of wives, sweethearts, mothers and friends with that kind of
spirit which wins wars—an unbreakable faith. But I am to tell you of
these boys ‘Over There’ and I am to get my story from the spontaneous
expression of boys who just needed a strain of some good old ‘rag’ or
quaint Irish ballad to spur them on to the next town or a beautiful
symphony to lull them off to sleep as they lay in pain on their cots.
“This band of colored musicians has indeed upheld the tradition of
its race, for their music contributes much to make the name of the
808th Pioneer Infantry popular at the front. To begin with, they are
right at the front being only a few kilometers behind the line, and
although in danger of attracting the attention of hostile forces,
they realize that the spirit of the boys must be kept cheerful and
refreshed. So, often they assemble in a well protected spot and play
for the constant line of khaki as it moves along the road toward the
enemy. And how those boys enjoy the music only they can tell. But
from the quickened step, the straightened shoulders and the whistling
and singing, one can really feel the refreshing and satisfying
effects of the band. When the band stops playing, however, there is
no question as to the appreciation of the music, for from hundreds of
throats comes the cry, ‘Carry On!’
“There is small wonder, though, that these boys have developed into
such a well-balanced band, for when one meets the ‘Chief,’ as he is
familiarly known among his fellow officers, the reason is easily
explained. With a natural talent for music, the ‘Chief’ combines
years of training as bandmaster and leader. It was he, Lieutenant
James E. Wheelock, who brought to the Carlisle Indian School athletic
prowess which struck terror in the hearts of all followers of the
pigskin in the East, and he also developed the Carlisle Indian
School band into one of national repute, so now it is he, realizing
the power of music, who adds his talent and leadership to the one
great end. I must not fail, however, to give due credit to the boys
under his brilliant instruction. Naturally gifted as musicians and
with deep love for it, these colored boys have developed into a
respected organization, and with a realization of their power, they
have unhesitatingly given their services where they might cheer some
homesick boy or ease the pain of those suffering from wounds of
battle. Transported in trucks through mud and rain, they have gone
miles to play in hospitals and rest camps, and have brought to our
nurses some little respite from the constant cry of pain.
“These boys have also developed other features which bid fair to
permit them always to retain a warm spot in the hearts of the boys
of the American Expeditionary Forces. Could you but hear Terry and
Bloxson pull off their skit entitled ‘Sick Call in the Army’ in that
dismantled stable which the fellows have the nerve to call a theatre,
or could you hear the melodious string quartette, or a beautiful
saxophone solo, or the sweet voices of the band, you, too, would do
as the hundreds of boys do who crowd that place every Monday—jump to
your feet crying ‘Carry On!’ Let us thank these boys and Lieutenant
Wheelock for their unselfish spirit.”
Other regiments, combatant and non-combatant, had their bands that
won honor and praise in the same way as the few did with whom we had
personal touch, and then there were great numbers of singers and shows.
In any camp an impromptu musical program was not far to seek.
But everywhere the music of the colored soldier was a faithful index of
the spirit behind the song. There might be heard painfully monotonous
or sombre chords—but wait a little and the atmosphere would change.
There would come creeping into the music aspiration and elevation.
Always the psychologist could discern the sorrow, pain and rebellion of
souls that suffered unjustly, but always he would also discern through
the exaltation and nobility of the music that its fundamental basis was
faith and vision.
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Lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world.
_Matthew_ 28:20.
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Religious Life Among the Troops
————
Although the church as an organization and as the most direct exponent
of the Prince of Peace, had no part in the welfare work during the
war, yet it was the contributing and inspirational force behind the
organizations and individuals who played such an important part in
the developing and the maintaining of the morale of the soldiers of
the American Expeditionary Forces. The chaplains were direct, but not
official representatives of the church, while the Y. M. C. A., the
Y. W. C. A., the Knights of Columbus, the Salvation Army, and the
Jewish Welfare Board were direct outgrowths of the church or religious
spirit in America; and while the great war was apparently a complete
and tangible evidence of the failure of Christianity among Christian
nations, still there was abundant manifestation everywhere that within
the hearts of men there was a deep and abiding faith in the great
Ruler of the Universe, and a certain conviction that the great world
cataclysm was a result of the dogged and persistent determination of
the peoples engaged therein to ignore the principles in practice that
they had so loudly preached to the world.
Although to some it was tremendously puzzling that a great human
machine that had been built up for the purpose of killing men, should
at the same time set agencies into operation to teach and preach the
doctrines of Christ, yet they were willing to overlook the seeming
paradox and gather in large numbers to hear the gospel, to study
the Word itself, to pray, and not least of all, to sing as only
dark-skinned Americans can sing, either the wonderful spirituals that
were born of the travail of an oppressed and bleeding people, or the
more stately hymns and songs that were published in a million gospel
song books that were distributed throughout the American Expeditionary
Forces.
[Illustration: GROUP OF RELIGIOUS WORKERS
1. Chaplain R. A. McAllister and Orderly at Camp Pontanezen, Brest.
2. Chaplain M. M. Jefferson, at Camp Lusitania, St. Nazaire. 3.
Secretary B. F. Selden and Chaplain George Shippen Stark, on Vosges
Front. 4. Chaplains Wallace and Robeson with 369th Infantry.]
The Y. M. C. A. had a regularly organized religious program which it
put into operation with more or less success; it secured the services
of Dr. Henry Churchill King, President of Oberlin College, as Director
of the Religious Department in France. He had offices in Paris, and a
large field force to put into operation his plan of carrying the gospel
to the soldiers. Evangelistic singers and speakers traveled from place
to place talking and singing to the soldiers as they congregated in the
Y. M. C. A. huts. There was a religious director also for every region,
who kept in direct touch with the work of religious secretaries who
were supposed to be stationed at each hut. The personnel of the colored
welfare workers, however, was so limited in number that there were not
enough religious secretaries to supply the demand; and there were only
about 50 colored chaplains in the entire A. E. F.; as a result, all who
would were invited to help in this all-important work of the Y. M. C.
A. Many of the soldiers were always willing and anxious to assist in
every possible way, while some of the Y women gave much time to this
phase of welfare work; the writer, with the assistance of interested
soldiers, organized a Bible class in a hut where there hitherto had
been only one religious service a week, attended by from 60 to 100 men
out of a camp of 3,500. The Bible class grew and gathered strength
until a colored chaplain was finally stationed at Camp Lusitania, which
by that time had grown to a camp of 9,000.
Some hut secretaries were especially fitted for religious work, and
filled the place of a religious worker in a splendid manner. Such a man
was Mr. William Stevenson, who initiated and built the work at Camp
Montoir. Rev. T. A. Griffith, hut secretary at Camp Guthrie, near St.
Nazaire, was another such messenger of the gospel, and during three
months of service had 300 accessions to the church; the names of all
such men were enrolled on special blanks supplied by the Y. M. C.
A., and sent to the churches at home of which they desired to become
members. Of course this was work such as was to be expected of any
minister, but nevertheless there were some who did not avail themselves
of the opportunity. Another such Y. M. C. A. secretary was Mr. E. T.
Banks, of Dayton, Ohio. Hundreds would go into battle after having
followed him in silent prayer, with knees bent and faces lifted toward
heaven, in the land where now “The poppies blow, between the crosses,
row on row,” and where many of them at this moment “Rest sweet and
deep, in Flanders Fields.”
In addition to the work done through the Y. M. C. A. religious workers
and chaplains, thousands of pieces of religious literature were
distributed, including pocket editions of the New Testament, Psalms,
and Gospels. These were placed in literature cases so that the men
could select those which interested them most, and always the New
Testament or small extracts from the Bible would have the largest
circulation.
To those of us who went over to cast our lots with the boys in khaki,
nothing was quite so inspiring and so helpful as to hear them tell of
their faith in God, or to give utterance to a prayer that bespoke the
upward groping of a soul, or to hear a thousand voices, deep and rich
and rhythmic, bring heaven into a sacred and almost visible nearness,
with singing that seemed nothing less than a special benediction to
a peculiar people. This was a priceless gift, in a country where all
the people spoke a different tongue, and where the great organs in the
cathedrals welled forth the only language that brought forth a gospel
message to a stranger in a strange land.
In the midst of oppression, circumscription, intrigue, and false and
wicked propaganda spread against them by their own countrymen, these
colored soldiers fought as bravely as any Americans overseas, and
worked with a greater will; and as you saw them going to and from their
long hours of labor with a song upon their lips, you became convinced
that these men had unconquerable souls; and the tramp, tramp, tramp of
their marching feet made you feel that surely they were walking side
by side with the Master, who had said unto them: Lo, I am with you
always, even unto the end of the world.
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They are embosomed in the sod,
In still and tranquil leisure,
Their lives, they’ve cast, like trifles down
To serve their country’s pleasure.
Nor bugle call, nor mother’s voice,
Nor moody mob’s unreason,
Shall break their solace and repose,
Through swiftly changing season.
O graves of men who lived and died
Afar from life’s high pleasures,
Fold them in tenderly and warm
With manifold fond measures.