Tag Archives: USAF

I Remember

I had forgotten what I have said in many blogs. It is a saying that goes back, way back ‘history always repeats itself’. I see this happening each and every day. The problem is most people don’t see it and those that do are either the ones that are benefiting or just don’t care. I remember the dark days and see it happening again.

I remember, as a teenager that could not vote, going door to door helping people understand how to vote and what was required. White people did not have a problem voting but the Black people were denied the vote with the smallest excuse. In my state, they even had to count the number of jellybeans or marbles in a jar.

I remember marching, single file (there was a law that Black people could not walk down the sidewalk shoulder to shoulder and had to get off the sidewalk, into the street, to let a White person pass) for Civil Rights. Still, we were met with fire hoses, police dogs, and nightsticks. No warning as we were attacked. I still have the scars to prove it.

I remember the sit-ins, how we were abused. We only wanted to be treated equally. We were peaceful, quiet, well mannered, and dressed well. We were spat on, hit, and arrested. If the establishment knew we were coming, they would remove the seats, and we would have to stand.

I remember when there were certain cities or towns that a Black could not enter during darkness upon the penalty of a severe beating or death. It was usually death. I remember coming home from Europe to attend my grandmother’s funeral. It was at night; my luggage was sent ahead of me because I was bumped from my original flight (you can guess why). It was dark, my father was taking me to the airport to retrieve my baggage. As we drove through a town (the only route to get to the airport), the police stopped us, made up some sort of excuse, took us to jail, and towed the car. I was in uniform and they saw my badge (I was USAF Security Police) which made them decide to release us. No explanation, no expression of sorrow, nothing.

I remember being told I could never be part of the K-9 section of my unit. One of the handlers told me Blacks were not allowed although I frequently augmented them. It took me years to prove them wrong. As I made it, I was called all sorts of names, nasty notes left for me to read, and very few handlers spoke to me. I stayed and progressed to the top spot which was Kennelmaster (I had one of the largest active kennels in Europe).

I remember OSI (Office of Special Investigations…same as NCIS) investigating me, searching my office, off base home, and taking the ribbon from my typewriter, looking for something to charge me with in order to get me out of my position. The Commander could do it, but he did not have a reason except that I was a Black NCO with too much power.

I see the same things happening now. The present administration is taking all of the rights we fought for. Rights that are in the Constitution. Rights that the justices are turning their backs on to take us back to where we once were. To remember is saying not to forget and to saying not to forget is giving us the same old, same old. With oil running out, we will be back to my days of wood and coal heat (and cooking), candlelight (Electricity is generated by machines that run on oil), gardening for fresh food, in other words, back to the good old days (watch for the clan hoods).

Yeah, I remember. There is much more but you get the drift.

A Week of Delectation

I am still on cloud nine from all that I have seen, done and went through this week. In a nut shell, I interviewed the last graduating airman from the famed Tuskegee Airmen of Tuskegee, Ala. Myself and Len Rasmusen, with Len driving, went to northern Virginia to meet with (Ret.) Col. Carl Johnson. He was the last to graduate because before his class graduated he had a bout of appendicitis and was hospitalized. When he got out of the hospital, his class had graduated and he was all alone. He was thinking he would be sent home but, instead, he was allowed to finish his training and graduate as the Last Tuskegee Airman.

At 91, he is clear voiced, full of spirit and was eager to talk about his storied career as an Army Officer although he did time in the USAF and the Army National Guard. Through him, I found out about Tuskegee Airmen flying bombers, although it was after WWII. He also flew in Korea and Viet Nam and was posted at the Pentagon, among many other places. Len and I viewed a number of scrapbooks and saw pictures of many people of note, such as Gen. Chappie James as a lieutenant. We were told that he was good friends with Chappie James, because he was his co-pilot, and they remained friends for years.

I have it all recorded so I can refer to it as I write a longer, more precise, work for The MPP (The Mighty Pen Project), the Virginia War Memorial and self-gratification. I love history. Everything about history. I love to dig deeper as I ask the question, why? I don’t mind the research nor do I mind the inevitable self induced trance I fall into.

In the middle of the week Imperial Plaza took us to the new Afro-American Museum, officially entitled, Smithsonian National Museum of African American History and Culture. After lunch in Washington, D.C., we traveled the very short distance to the museum, which was very crowded. A word of caution for anyone that is planning to go there. Go on-line and get tickets first but plan to wait a few months before the tickets will allow entrance. Getting tickets now will allow you entry in April or May although there is a line for people that arrive without a reservation but there is not a guarantee that you will get in that way, even if you wait all day.

There is no way you can view the entire museum in one day so I concentrated on the lower three floors (basement) of the eight floors. I quickly went through most of the displays, not spending too much time on any one thing. I had three hours and almost didn’t make it although three hours seem like a long time but when you are engrossed in the displays, time flies and there is so much.

The thing that bothered me most were not the displays but the kids. Most of the kids were either running through the place, playing with each other or mindlessly texting. The great majority were not interested and, I will make a bet, could not tell you about anything there. What a shame. What a waste.

In that section was a short display on the Tuskegee Airmen and, I noticed, one of the pictures on display was one that I took a photo of from Col. Johnson’s scrapbook. There, on display, is one of the planes that the Tuskegee Airmen flew (The Spirit Of Tuskegee) and a few other pictures. I wish the display had more but you take whatever there is to take. The photos of some of the grotesque hangings done to my people where very haunting to say the least. The display of an actual slave house really show how small they were for the number of people that lived in them, or should I say survived in them. That’s all there was then, survival any way you could.

That was my week and I am overjoyed to have lived it. Col. Johnson and the museum made my entire week and I’m happy for it. Imperial Plaza’s Activity Department get thumbs up for the work in getting tickets, getting us there and getting us back safely. Praises to Kayle, Ron and Jerome.

See you next blog. Don’t forget to check out my other blog, although it will automatically pop up on other sites (twitter, google, etc). The weekend is coming and my wife and I are off again. Our schedule is full and we have a lot of fun and adventures to catch up on. Bye-bye and remember…Be kind to your neighbors and ensure your words are soft and sweet.

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