16 ~ From the Chaplain School to Camp Shelby and Fort Jackson
Of course such tension from the final examination meant we needed to get away for relaxation, and as usual Boston offered it. It was there that I saw Paul Robeson in Othello. Robeson was a native of Princeton, New Jersey. He grew up there and attended Rutgers. His scholastic record there is one of those examples with which fathers exhort their sons. His athletic record is best illustrated by the fact that he was an All-American [football] end for two years. Then came Columbia Law School, and with it a quirk of fate that steered him from law to the theater.
When he was in the middle of studying Blackstone for law he was wheedled and cajoled into taking a part in a production for a play by Ridgely Torrence called Simon of Cyrene. The play was about the negro who carried the cross for Christ. For Robeson it was more or less a declamation. He had never acted much, but his father had taught him how to be at home speaking before an audience. Paul Robeson’s acting made the film sensation we know as Emperor Jones. He followed it with Black Boy and Showboat. Then he went to England and was rapidly gaining as much fame as a singer could receive. One night he was singing at the Royal Albert Hall in London when he got a telephone call from Maurice Brown asking him to do Othello.
I shall never forget the enjoyment I received from sitting through Shakespeare’s Othello with Paul Robeson leading the cast. The papers played up the fact that in 1943 he was the first black man to play the title role. He earned awards for his performance. I’m sorry to say Robeson was blacklisted during the McCarthy era. He was removed from the pages of history in this country. Over time his achievements were reduced to that of being a singer and role model, but he was more than that.
Perhaps seeing a black man play the role of Othello opposite a white woman was a prediction of things to come, for I would soon be assigned to a black unit as chaplain. Of course in those days African-Americans were called “colored.”
Movies played an important part in our entertainment. One of the best I had seen since being in the Army was in Boston–the story of President Wilson and his work to get international cooperation for peace through the League of Nations. I read in the program that we purchased at the theater that the idea for the motion picture Wilson [Ten Academy Award nominations, won five ] was conceived on the battlefields of North Africa in 1941. The 20th-Century Fox production chief then on active duty as a Lieutenant Colonel in the Signal Corps, Darryl F. Zanuck first thought of the story as a short documentary film. But as the theme developed it grew into a multi-million dollar production, the most expensive ever undertaken by a Hollywood producer.
The program read, ”Sometimes the life of a man mirrors the life of a nation. The decency of our country was crystallized in the life and times of Washington and Lincoln; perhaps, too, in the life of another president. This is the story of America and the story of a man, Woodrow Wilson, the twentieth president of the United States.” I enjoyed this colorful story of a leader in World War I and the struggle for peace afterwards. This too might have been a prediction of things to come, for when I sailed for overseas service, one of the ships in our convoy [the U.S.S. George Washington] was the ship Woodrow Wilson used to go to Europe and sign the Versailles Treaty. So, the chaplain’s experience in Massachusetts was more than night marches, night problems, and crawling under fire on an obstacle course. There were moments of pleasure, movies that I did not attend when in normal life I was a pastor because of the criticism a pastor would receive. However, in the Army I felt free to attend such pictures as Wilson and other wholesome movies.
On the very day we went through the Infiltration Course at Ft. Devens, I received a special letter from the War Department, Office of the Chaplain, with these words,
We are today recommending your assignment to the 100th Quartermaster Battalion, Camp Shelby, Mississippi. This assignment is to fill a requisition for the headquarters and headquarters attachment of this organization. This organization has a peculiar status at the present time in view of the fact that it has two white companies and six colored companies. Whether this status will change or not we cannot be assured at this time. If the organization should become predominantly white, you may be stationed with it for some time, but if the white units should be detached it is probable that you will be given reassignment. This advanced information is given to you because of the mixture of races and because you have been particularly selected as one who might well serve a unit of this character. When you report to your organization, it is believed you should explain this situation to your commanding officer as it is brought forth in this letter. The Chief of Service joins in cordial greeting and best wishes with the hope that your military service may be happy and a profitable one.”
And it is signed for the Chief of Chaplains, Walter B. Zimmerman. I responded by indicating that I had no prejudice and would be very glad to serve the white and colored troops at Camp Shelby. On the 29th of September, it was our duty to go through what they called Chemical Field Drill. In it we dressed up in our gas masks and appropriate clothing and walked through mustard gas, tear gas, and were exposed to chlorine and phosgene and I’m sure other chemicals. I suppose I passed it because I was still living when it was over.
On the weekend I again went to Boston. This time to attend the Harvard–Worcester Tech Football game. It was a mild bout, to say the least. On Sunday morning I went to Tremont Temple Baptist Church, which was located in a theatre building on Tremont Street. I heard the pastor Dr. C. Gordon Brownville preach on the subject, “The Gas Chamber.” After the service, having had lunch, I went back to the Boston Common and rode in one of the swan boats.
The next morning, October 2, I received my official orders assigning me to 100th quarter master battalion squad at Camp Shelby, Mississippi. That very night I went to the famous Longfellows Wayside Inn in Sudbury, Massachusetts, with a great group of our chaplains. The Wayside Inn was owned by Henry Ford, and he made it possible for all of us to receive a complimentary meal. What a good time we had! We were happy to cooperate with Mr. Ford, and ate every course that they offered. After the meal I called Faye with excitement in my voice to tell her that I had received my orders and that we would be going to Mississippi. It was a real pleasure to talk to her, especially from that historic spot and quaint place.
Graduation day was October 4th. We had a dress review before the Chief of Chaplains, Brigadier General Arnold, and we received diplomas. Immediately after the ceremony I left for Boston and caught a train for New York City, arriving there about 5:30. I made it a point to stay over in the Big Apple because I had never seen it in person. I got a room in the hotel Empire at Broadway and 63rd Street, visited Rockefeller Center and Radio City, walked up Broadway, and saw the Great White Way in Times Square. From the Radio City observation tower I saw New York City at night. What a pleasure! The next day I took a boat out to the Statue of Liberty, stayed until 1:30 p.m., but not before climbing to the very top of the statue. I left New York City at 2:40, heading back home to Somerville, Texas, to see my family and to get ready to move to Camp Shelby, Mississippi.
What a joy it was for me to have the family reunion and enjoy the fellowship once more with my wife and child and my parents. Before I knew it we had packed our things and were on our way to my new assignment. I checked into my quarters on October 11th. On October 13th I sent this message to the Chief of Chaplains,
In compliance with your orders of the 27th of September, 1944, arrived at Camp Shelby, Mississippi in assignment to the 100th Quartermaster Battalion has been affected as of the 11th of October, 1944. As much as the status of this assignment has already undergone change, I beg to point out that the two white companies referred to by your communication have moved out leaving only the colored units to be availed with my services. Not withstanding I shall be happy to remain as assigned in view of the fact that I contain no prejudice that might in any way inhibit the rendition of my best services. Lester L Morris, Chaplain USA.
In a few days I received this reply from the Liaison Chaplain in the Office of Chief of Chaplains. He said,
Thank you for your good letter of 13 of October 1944. We note the change of personnel in your battalion. You might keep us informed of your desire of your change we believe advised. The writer served with the Filipino troops for about 5 years and enjoyed it. We do not have enough Negro chaplains to serve all such units. Therefore if your ministry goes well as your letter indicates it will, the main issue is met. The Chief of Service joins in cordial greetings and best wishes.
I discovered that Camp Shelby was one of the largest training centers. It was located 12 miles south of Hattiesburg, Mississippi, whose population exceeded 100,000 during the war. In spite of its bigness, the soldiers mostly slept in tents. Of course, being an officer, I searched a town for an apartment, could not find one in Hattiesburg, and settled for a room in a small motel. Later we found a small apartment in a house that was occupied by a master sergeant and his wife. We were delighted to rent it, not in Hattiesburg but in Pebble, which is across Leaf River from Hattiesburg. From this point I drove to my assignment each day.
I spent the first few days getting acquainted, having interviewed with various officers and enlisted men. The first Sunday at Chapel No. 1, I read the scripture but did not preach. There were 42 present and a black pastor preached. I soon had the privilege of preaching at chapel. I enjoyed so much preaching to the black troops because they talked back to me when I preached. The first Sunday I preached on “Amazing Grace” and rejoiced that 53 people were present. We had eight rededications and one profession of faith.
Then came “bivouac,” a time when my entire unit camped out in the Mississippi woods and pretended we were under battlefield conditions most of the time. I had a real shock, for I realized I had lived a sheltered life. Here I came from the little white parsonage and church where I was pampered and praised. Now here I was in the swamps of Mississippi, and while I had heard obscene language before, I don’t think I had heard expressions like I heard my first night as the black soldiers crowded around my tent and had a wild party. Of course each time they insisted on my drinking beer, and each time I refused. I was delighted when a few days after that when one of the black boys came to see me and said, “Chaplain, I appreciate you not accepting the invitation to drink the beer the other night on bivouac, for had you done so I would have lost all respect for all chaplains.”
Looking over the daybook which I kept, I noticed that most days after I got back to Camp Shelby from bivouac were spent in meetings. We had a meeting called by Major McCormie, and on the very next day we attended a meeting where Colonel Ferguson addressed all the officers of colored troops. In my interviews with men of the 100th Quartermaster Battalion, I got new insights concerning the black soldier. Many of them opened up to me and gave expression to their feelings. I remember one saying, “Chaplain, you have more to fight for than we do, because we don’t have full rights as the white man does in America.” I was also surprised, shocked, that some mentioned that they would rather live in the South than in the North. They explained that in the North they had been accepted as a race but not as a people. In the South they accepted the individual but not the race, they said. Here I remembered that in my own community, Will Smith, a black man, was respected and loved by the white community, and if he needed anything such as help when his children were sick, or money or clothing, people did their best to see that Will Smith received it. My own heart said this must be right–the South had accepted them as individuals but not as a race. Of course this was long before the 1954 ruling of the Supreme Court.
During one of the bivouacs, I left the camp and went to Harrisburg to purchase some supplies for the Chaplain’s office. While I was in Harrisburg the entire unit was placed under wartime conditions, which meant nobody could go in and out of the camp without a password. When I came back the guards halted me; of course, having been in town I did not know the password. I knew that nothing would please my men more than to see me get out of my jeep and be marched down to company headquarters. I happened to remember that when I drove up the road toward camp our band was marching as their night patrol. I had my driver turn around; I found our marching band, dismounted, dismissed my driver and jeep, stood in the midst of the band, and marched with them right up to the guard. I saw him halt the band leader and ask for the password. He gave the password, and the entire band marched into camp–including the freshman chaplain.
Across the hall from my chapel was a black preacher named Harrington. We shared the services and our offices in the same chapel. I learned to appreciate him. Imagine my surprise when I got out of the service, found that our churches were only ten miles apart, and he invited me to preach at his church! I observed that the black soldiers were lining up to see Chaplain Harrington, and none were coming in to see me. They seemed to feel that a black chaplain would understand their problems better than a white one. I had to concur that this was the case. So while I had indicated that I was not prejudiced, I realized that my usefulness was limited. Therefore in early November I wrote again to the Chief of Chaplains,
As I have indicated in my previous letter, I entertain no prejudice that might in any way inhibit the rendition of my best services here among colored troops. However, after attempting to serve under these conditions, I find that my personality and type of ministry does not fit in with the colored troops. Therefore, I feel that my services would be of greater benefit among white personnel. The situation here is one that I think you should know about. The headquarters that I am with has only three colored companies. The chapel that I am located in has a colored chaplain that is with a station compliment here. In my opinion he is capable of serving this entire area as chaplain in better fashion than I since he is of the same race. I have found that the colored boys naturally go to him with their problems more than to me. And two, the number of colored troops here does not merit two preaching services, and therefore I have had to share the services with the colored chaplain.
In just a few days I received notice that I was being transferred to the 136th Evac Hospital located in Fort Jackson, South Carolina. Soon we were on our way to the new assignment. Fort Jackson was one of the largest and most active initial early training centers in the United States Army. It was located just outside the South Carolina State capital of Columbia. On the 15th of November I signed in and began my duties. Mrs. Morris and my son were still with me, and we found a nice place to live. We soon found a church home while we were in Columbia.
All in all I was feeling more at home in the service than I ever did before. The chapel services were enjoyable, and my conferences with the men and officers in this unit were very enjoyable. I visited with the commanding officer, a lieutenant colonel and physician from Philadelphia. At first he was encouraging, but I soon found he had some prejudice toward the chaplain. I kept myself busy visiting the various hospitals, distributing literature, having conferences with the other officers, and completed taking my shots for tetanus and typhoid.
Night patrols continued in this outfit, very similar to what I had had in chaplain school. One night I was required to walk ten miles. It was a good thing that I had had plenty of practice in chaplain school. I found a creative way to meet the soldiers in my outfit. I went to the line where each man got his monthly pay, and as they came through I gave away a packet of matches and secured information from each one of them. My first December was to be a significant month. Our unit went on bivouac again. This time I was better organized, for I had not only a good assistant, a young Presbyterian preacher, but also a wonderful organist to play the folding organ. Therefore I arranged to have a sing-a-long on Saturday night, the first one I ever I had, with fifty men present. They sang with two folding organs accompanying them. The next morning we had our bivouac service in the hospital ward tent. One hundred men were present including our commanding officer. I used electric recorded chimes to call the men to the service and preached on Ephesians Chapter 6, with the title “I Dare You.”
I had to take my own dare when we broke up camp and returned again to my home in Columbia. My son had been diagnosed as having scarlet fever. I reported this to my commanding officer. He being a doctor commanded me to be quarantined to the camp, and of course my wife and son were quarantined in our home in Columbia. Even though I had to disobey orders, I could not let my wife suffer alone with a sick child, with the Christmas season approaching and the knowledge it wouldn’t be long before I would be overseas. So I disobeyed and went to be with my wife and son.
December was significant also because the Battle of the Bulge began December the 16th. It took a heavy toll on our United States troops as the Germans launched an offensive in the Ardennes Forest of Belgium. Soon our commanding officer announced that because of the great loss at the Battle of the Bulge our hospital had been selected to be the reinforcement hospital. We began to think about getting ready for an overseas task. I took my last typhoid shots.
Christmas Day found my wife and son with me at the Christmas Day service in the chapel. There were twenty-three present, and after the service I ate lunch at the mess hall with the men of the 136th Evac Hospital. I said grace at the meal. The New Year dawned with joy and sadness: joy that the war had been using me in a marvelous way in my new assignment, sadness that I soon would be separated again from my family. In the first week of January we learned of our movement orders and the port we would land in overseas.
There were frantic days of preparation. I was granted my first leave of absence from the Army, for the purpose of taking my family back to Texas before I went overseas. So we left, and on our first night we stayed in Augusta, Georgia. The next morning we were on our way to Somerville, Texas. The second night we stayed in Meridian, Mississippi. We arrived in Tyler and then proceeded to Somerville for a family reuniting with my father and mother. On that Sunday I attended services at the First Baptist Church of Somerville with them. While there I brought the special prayer service message and then left for Tyler to see Faye’s mother. Her brother who had been in the service came at the same time. Immediately following this we left for New London where I had been a pastor. What a joy it was to visit with the members!