-
Chapter 5: Integrating the Army
- University of Washington Press
- Chapter
- Additional Information
62 Integrating the Army I almost didn’t have the chance to see an integrated U.S. Army. The year the army integrated, 1948, was also a year of personal and professional crisis. I left the service in April, taking a six-month unplanned break from the military. At the time, I thought the separation was permanent. It all began with my court-martial in November 1947. That fall, during my assignment as first lieutenant in the port security platoon, I was in charge of the vehicles for the two hundred troops who guarded the materials , equipment, and supplies that came off the Liberty ships. The docks had all kinds of food, including canned pineapple, canned pears, and other items that GIs could sell on the black market for a small fortune. My job was to prevent such illegal activity. LIEUtENANt FOStEr On November 5, I was leaving the port company orderly room when Lieutenant John Foster, the officer of the day, told a sergeant that he was taking a jeep but did not want the Japanese driver. I knew Foster, although not well, and I told him, “You’re not supposed to be driving that vehicle, Lieutenant Foster. I’ll provide you a driver.” It was standard operating procedure (sop) that a driver would operate the vehicle for the officer of the day. I reminded Lieutenant Foster that the standard operating procedure was written by me and approved by the company commander. He became indignant and said, “I don’t give a damn who wrote the sop. Battalion has said nothing about it.” I repeated that he must take a driver and it was my duty to see that the sop governing our vehicles was strictly adhered to. During the course of the conversation, with Foster sitting behind the wheel of the jeep, I leaned in on the passenger side. When I did, Foster ChAPtEr 5 63 Integrating the Army shoved in the clutch, yanked the gearshift into first, and said, “I don’t care.” I reached over with my left hand and tried to tap the shift back into neutral. “Just one moment,” I told him, “I will get you a driver.” As I said that, Foster took off, and the jeep hit my shoulder and knocked me to the ground. I was damned angry and told the executive officer what had happened. Before he could say anything, I declared, “We’re going to get our vehicle back.” “Well, take it easy, now, Sam,” he cautioned me. But I was not about to listen to anybody at that moment. I jumped into another jeep and went after Foster. I finally spotted him talking to a couple of sergeants. “Foster,” I said, “don’t try to duck me. You must take a driver with the jeep.” I then grabbed the right lapel of his battle jacket and said, “You damn near killed me back there! Get out of the jeep.” He got out of the jeep and grabbed my collar. I dropped my hands and said, “Take your hands off me.” When he refused, I grabbed his shoulder with my right hand. Foster was the officer of the day, which meant he had his standard army issue .45 caliber semiautomatic pistol. He drew the pistol and pointed it in my face. “You are under arrest,” I said. “Get back, Kelly,” he said. I didn’t realize how close I was standing to him. He repeated his command. “Get back. I am the officer of the day, and I’m in charge.” I looked directly at the .45, still more angry than frightened, and said, “I need your vehicle. Either you give it to me or you take it over to get a driver.” His response was quick. “Get back.” This time, he cocked his pistol, placing a round in the chamber, and pointed it at my chest. I said in the calmest voice I could muster, “Lower the pistol and then we can talk. Lower the pistol. Put the pistol down. What, are you crazy? Lower the pistol before it goes off. Lower the pistol!” [34.204.99.254] Project MUSE (2024-03-29 11:18 GMT) 64 Integrating the Army I didn’t realize how many times I had said “lower the pistol,” but it must have worked. Shaking, he lowered the pistol away from my chest and down past my stomach. As he did, it went off. The bullet shot through the fleshy part of my inner...