I’ve watched an exceptionally, well written/directed, and equally, superbly acted war drama on Netflix, called The Six Triple Eight. A true story scripted from the book, Fighting a Two-Front War, by Kevin M. Hymel.

The backdrop, set in WWII, is about the first and the only COLORED army corps, called the 6888th Battalion of Women Army Corps. Stationed overseas, their task was the challenge of sorting through warehouses of undelivered mail (incomplete or incorrectly addressed) from families to soldiers. The Army Department and the President felt low morale was a viable enemy as well. These letters were crucial for hope and mental survival on the frontline. The soldiers needed to know their loved ones hadn’t forgotten them and were eagerly awaiting their return.

Despite unjustified and harsh segregated discrimination, the 6888th Battalion sorted over seventeen million pieces of mail for delivery.

I got to thinking after watching The Six Triple Eight (for the 3rd time) about my father’s talks with me about his life in the Army during WWII, because I questioned why he refused to watch war movies. Below is the research I did years back, and my teenage recollections with my father.  

“The experience was very disappointing for a lot of Black soldiers,” says Matthew Delmont, history professor at Dartmouth College and author of Black Quotidian: Everyday History in African American Newspapers. “The kind of treatment they received by white officers in army bases in the United States was horrendous. They described being in slave-like conditions and being treated like animals. They were called racial epithets quite regularly and just not afforded respect either as soldiers or human beings.”

Dad said the barracks were filthy with roaches and rats, and visible nails stuck through the wooden floors. Supplied thin grey blankets came with holes; bed bugs lived in mattresses; and pillows were first come-first served. There weren’t fans to help with the sweltering heat, not enough outhouses (the bathrooms), and limited, cold shower facilities were also outside. Many got food poisoning. Letters were opened and items sent by the family were often stolen. Staff and drill sergeants called them Nigger or Boy, and imposed stiff punishments like standing outside in underwear and barefoot in the sun. They rose 30 minutes earlier. Racial prejudice was accepted and never questioned, and finally, dishonorable discharges were the highest punishment and often ordered within the first couple of weeks of enrollment.

Because the military didn’t think African Americans were fit for combat or leadership positions, they were relegated to labor and service units, as cooks and mechanics, building roads and ditch digging, and unloading supplies from trucks and airplanes. And for the few who did make non-commissioned officer rank, they could only lead other African Americans with harsh discipline “to keep them in line.”

Dad said because he didn’t have any college (few did back then), performed all the above duties. He was liked, because he knew what to do, say, and accept.

Despite African American soldiers’ eagerness to fight in World War II, the same Jim Crow discrimination in society was practiced in every branch of the armed forces. Many of the bases and training facilities were located in the South. The largest military installation for Blacks was Fort Huachuca, located in Arizona. Regardless of the region, all the bases there were separate:  blood banks, hospitals or wards, medical staff, barracks and recreational facilities.

Dad was stationed in the South…I can’t remember where he was stationed…but he often spoke of it harshly. His time there was the worst he ever experienced in his life. He would never watch a war movie as long as I can remember.

After World War II officially ended on September 2, 1945. Black soldiers, particularly from the South, returned home facing violent mobs who resented them in uniform. These soldiers with their calls for equality were perceived as a threat to the social order of Jim Crow. Many were hanged, castrated, or burned alive just because it was a Monday!  This wasn’t so for Dad, because our Ohio town was integrated.

In addition to racial violence, Black soldiers were often denied benefits guaranteed under the G.I. Bill: the sweeping legislation that provided tuition assistance, job placement, and home and business loans to veterans.

Dad was able to purchase a home through Home Savings and Loan Bank. He was the first of his large family of brothers and sisters to do so. He had to show an honorable discharge letter. His supervisor had to accompany him to the bank proving that Dad worked for Youngstown Sheet and Tube Steel Mill. Dad needed to have a bank account of at least $100.00 for one year (Grandpa gave him the money he was short of), and he had to be able to sign his name, present his birth certificate, and pass a criminal background investigation showing he’s never been arrested.

Civil rights activists continued to emphasize America’s hypocrisy as a democratic nation with a Jim Crow Army, and Southern Politicians firmly against full racial equality for Blacks—President Harry Truman signed Executive Order 9981 that desegregated the U.S. Armed Forces in July 1948. Full integration, however, would not occur until the Korean War.

I will add Dad died from Black Lung Cancer, working twenty-five years in the steel mill. Because he was a veteran, he received free treatment at the renowned Cleveland Cancer Clinic, was given the American Flag, and a headstone. I have the Flag, the only thing I requested. I want to pass it on to my only nephew Woodrow (who never got a chance to meet his grandfather and was named after him). Woodrow has made a career of the Army, receiving recognitions Dad would never have thought possible. Woodrow worked for years at the Pentagon. He’s an officer, a mentor, and leader. He holds the highest respect for what his grandfather and other African Americans endured during WWII.

I’d like to think Dad would watch with pride The Six Triple Eight, not because they were women, but because of their courage.