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where 202 is?”
He jerked his head, indicating around the corner. “Two buildings down. And I’m not your buddy, you black bastard!” He turned back to his sewing.
The corporal standing outside 202 checked my name against a list on a clipboard. “Yeah—well, you better wait over there awhile ‘til we figure out what to do with you.”
I was at the Infantry’s Basic Training Center at Fort Francis E. Warren in Cheyenne, Wyoming.
I sat on the steps where he’d pointed. Other guys were showing up and he checked them off his list and told them, “Go inside and take the first bunk you see.” I looked away for a moment and heard him saying, “Sit over there with Davis.”
A tall, powerfully built guy dropped his gear alongside mine. “My name’s Edward Robbins.” We shook hands and he sat down next to me. One by one, men were arriving and being sent inside. They kept on coming but no one else was told to wait with us. Then, finally, there was no point in hoping against the obvious. It was clear that we were the only ones being held outside while all the white guys were going right in.
The corporal went inside. We were sitting in front of a screen door so even though he lowered his voice I could hear every word he was saying. “… look, we got a problem. Those niggers out there are assigned to this company. I’m gonna stick ‘em down there. You two guys move your gear so I can give ‘em those last two bunks.”
Another voice said, “Hey, that’s right nexta me. I ain’t sleepin’ near no dinge.”
“Look, soldier, let’s get something straight right off. I’m in charge of this barracks and …”
“I ain’t arguin’ you’re in charge. I’m only sayin’ I didn’t join no nigger army.”
Embarrassed in front of each other, Edward and I looked straight ahead.
“… what about the can? Y’mean we gotta use the same toilets as them?”
“That’s right, soldier. They use the same latrine we all use. Now look, we got no goddamned choice. They used t’keep ‘em all together, but now for some goddamned reason they sent ‘em here and we just gotta put up with ‘em….”
It was impossible to believe they were talking about me.
“Yeah, but I still ain’t sleepin’ nexta no nigger.”
“What the hell’s the army need ‘em for? They’ll steal ya blind while ya sleep and there ain’t one of ‘em has any guts. They’re all yeller bellies …”
“Awright, knock it off. I don’t want ‘em any more than you do but we’re stuck with ‘em. That’s orders.”
They weren’t even trying to keep their voices down any more.
There was the sound of iron beds sliding across the wooden floor. The corporal beckoned from the doorway. “Okay, c’mon in and I’ll assign you your bunks. Let’s go,” he snapped, “on the double.” We picked up our gear and followed him through the door. I felt like a disease he was bringing in.
There were rows of cots on both sides with an aisle down thecenter. The guys were standing in groups. They’d stopped talking. I looked straight ahead. I could feel them staring as we followed the corporal down the aisle. He pointed to the last two cots on one side. “These are yours. Now, we don’t want no trouble with you. Keep your noses clean, do as you’re told, and we’ll get along.” He walked away.
I looked around the barracks. The bed nearest to ours was empty. All the cots were about two feet apart from each other except ours, which were separated from the rest by about six feet—like we were on an island.
A few of the men sort of smiled and half-waved hello. Some wouldn’t look over at us. The nearest, a tall, husky guy who must have been a laborer or an athlete, kept his back turned.
A sergeant came in and from the center of the barracks announced, “I’m Sergeant Williams. I’m in charge of this company and I …” His glance fell on the space between the beds. He turned to the corporal. “What the hell is that?”
The corporal
He jerked his head, indicating around the corner. “Two buildings down. And I’m not your buddy, you black bastard!” He turned back to his sewing.
The corporal standing outside 202 checked my name against a list on a clipboard. “Yeah—well, you better wait over there awhile ‘til we figure out what to do with you.”
I was at the Infantry’s Basic Training Center at Fort Francis E. Warren in Cheyenne, Wyoming.
I sat on the steps where he’d pointed. Other guys were showing up and he checked them off his list and told them, “Go inside and take the first bunk you see.” I looked away for a moment and heard him saying, “Sit over there with Davis.”
A tall, powerfully built guy dropped his gear alongside mine. “My name’s Edward Robbins.” We shook hands and he sat down next to me. One by one, men were arriving and being sent inside. They kept on coming but no one else was told to wait with us. Then, finally, there was no point in hoping against the obvious. It was clear that we were the only ones being held outside while all the white guys were going right in.
The corporal went inside. We were sitting in front of a screen door so even though he lowered his voice I could hear every word he was saying. “… look, we got a problem. Those niggers out there are assigned to this company. I’m gonna stick ‘em down there. You two guys move your gear so I can give ‘em those last two bunks.”
Another voice said, “Hey, that’s right nexta me. I ain’t sleepin’ near no dinge.”
“Look, soldier, let’s get something straight right off. I’m in charge of this barracks and …”
“I ain’t arguin’ you’re in charge. I’m only sayin’ I didn’t join no nigger army.”
Embarrassed in front of each other, Edward and I looked straight ahead.
“… what about the can? Y’mean we gotta use the same toilets as them?”
“That’s right, soldier. They use the same latrine we all use. Now look, we got no goddamned choice. They used t’keep ‘em all together, but now for some goddamned reason they sent ‘em here and we just gotta put up with ‘em….”
It was impossible to believe they were talking about me.
“Yeah, but I still ain’t sleepin’ nexta no nigger.”
“What the hell’s the army need ‘em for? They’ll steal ya blind while ya sleep and there ain’t one of ‘em has any guts. They’re all yeller bellies …”
“Awright, knock it off. I don’t want ‘em any more than you do but we’re stuck with ‘em. That’s orders.”
They weren’t even trying to keep their voices down any more.
There was the sound of iron beds sliding across the wooden floor. The corporal beckoned from the doorway. “Okay, c’mon in and I’ll assign you your bunks. Let’s go,” he snapped, “on the double.” We picked up our gear and followed him through the door. I felt like a disease he was bringing in.
There were rows of cots on both sides with an aisle down thecenter. The guys were standing in groups. They’d stopped talking. I looked straight ahead. I could feel them staring as we followed the corporal down the aisle. He pointed to the last two cots on one side. “These are yours. Now, we don’t want no trouble with you. Keep your noses clean, do as you’re told, and we’ll get along.” He walked away.
I looked around the barracks. The bed nearest to ours was empty. All the cots were about two feet apart from each other except ours, which were separated from the rest by about six feet—like we were on an island.
A few of the men sort of smiled and half-waved hello. Some wouldn’t look over at us. The nearest, a tall, husky guy who must have been a laborer or an athlete, kept his back turned.
A sergeant came in and from the center of the barracks announced, “I’m Sergeant Williams. I’m in charge of this company and I …” His glance fell on the space between the beds. He turned to the corporal. “What the hell is that?”
The corporal
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