16440: Displaying Respect On Veterans Day.

 

From The Signal Tribune…

 

African American Cultural Center of LB honoring Black veterans with latest exhibit

 

By Kristen Farrah Naeem, Staff Writer

 

Memorabilia from the lives of Black veterans are on display at the African American Cultural Center of Long Beach, paying tribute to the sacrifices they made for the United States despite the discrimination they faced within it.

 

“When we think of the very earliest wars, up until the end of World War Two, most of our militaries were segregated,” said Sharon Diggs-Jackson, who curated “The African American Military Experience” exhibit. “And while Blacks were not afforded all of the rights that are outlined in our Constitution, they still fought valiantly in every war that America as a nation participated in.”

 

While the armed services were desegregated in 1948 after an executive order by President Harry Truman, segregation wasn’t outlawed nationally until the passage of the Civil Rights Act in 1964. Black soldiers were often relegated to labor and supply positions, according to the U.S. Military’s website.

 

“African Americans have served whether or not it granted us the same freedoms and democracy as the ideals and principles that were being fought for,” Diggs-Jackson said. “It didn’t matter. We served and we served valiantly, and so we thought that was important to be able to share that story.”

 

The African American Cultural Center of Long Beach found material for the exhibit from the internet, army surplus stores and veterans’ families. The donated items include old photos and uniforms preserved by family members of late service-men and women.

 

The items were first put on display in 2021 in a series of themed exhibits at the African American Cultural Center, and were organized into different categories that showcased women in the armed forces, generals, medical personnel and more.

 

This year, the historical materials have been brought together for a more comprehensive, month-long exhibit. It opened to the public on Nov. 3, during the Bixby Knolls neighborhood’s monthly First Friday event.

 

The exhibit was made possible by grant funding from the Long Beach Navy Memorial Heritage Association.

 

“While we may be focusing a little bit more on African Americans, I think the exhibit tells the story of our military and our armed services in general, and there’s an opportunity for everybody to learn,” Diggs-Jackson said.

 

The African American Cultural Center of Long Beach is located within the Expo Arts Center (4321 Atlantic Ave.). The exhibit is open Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday from 11 a.m. to 4 p.m. throughout November. There will be extended hours Friday, Nov. 10 and Saturday, Nov. 11 from 11 a.m. to 6 p.m. Admission is free.

15938: Vaccination Ad Inspires, “Ouch.”

 

Veterans Coalition for Vaccination is doing great work. Its advertising, however, is not great work.

15025: Memorial Day Musings And Pandemic Ponderings.

It feels a little odd to celebrate Memorial Day during the COVID-19 crisis, an event often described with war-related terms and metaphors—including saluting healthcare workers on the frontlines and declaring the coronavirus an enemy. Don’t mean to discount the noble efforts of people providing services under dangerous conditions, but… really? Even the current Commander-In-Chief joined the rhetoric by claiming to be a “war-time president” battling an invisible foe. MultiCultClassics is not the only publication to note the phenomenon.

Regardless, it would be a shame to let the global pandemic become a smokescreen that diverted respectful acknowledgement of the true American heroes behind the holiday.

14820: Saluting A Variety Of Valiant And Victorious Veterans.

Happy Veterans Day.

14374: 12 Pillars For Black Soldiers.

From WKBW Buffalo…

Breaking ground on a new African American Veterans Monument

By Rebecca Thornburg

BUFFALO, N.Y. (WKBW) - The Buffalo and Erie County Naval Park is expanding. Twelve pillars representing the 12 American military conflicts will rise to recognize the African American soldiers that have fought for this country.

“We as African Americans have been shedding our blood for this country since its very inception,” Walter Cole, a Vietnam Veteran and Buffalo native said. He is proud that their will be a memorial that celebrates African American soldiers in Western New York.

The monument will have a brick foundation with names of fallen African American soldiers from Western New York with the 12 ten- foot pillars scattered around.

“May these hallow grounds be a place where all people may gather to remember that it was not just one gender, one race, not just one heritage, that served our country with bravery and loyalty,” Darius Pridgen, Buffalo Common Council President and U.S. Air Force Veteran said.

Vietnam Veteran Ken Stevens hopes the memorial will educate students on the African American soldiers that were once forgotten.

The construction on the monument will begin next spring and the African American Veterans Monument Committees plans to have the piece completed by Veterans day of next year.

11435: More Adland Recruiting Bias.

Adweek wrote of a new advertising agency whose hiring tactics will focus on military veterans. So far, there have been no outcries of being forced to lower standards. Haven’t heard people claiming they don’t see any military candidates, armed forces personnel may not be interested in our industry, or soldiers are simply unaware of the opportunities on Madison Avenue. Agencies and trade organizations won’t unveil veteran scholarships and outreach programs. Zero news of Chief Military Officers and Military Advisory Committees to date. Jeff Goodby isn’t asking, “Where are all the fatigues-wearing people?” The 4As has yet to announce the opening of an IAM military school. Recruiters aren’t scouring the inner cities for service kids. Not a peep about shakedown maneuvers by Colin Powell. Then again, wait until everyone discovers the high number of minorities serving our country.

New Agency Plans to Hire Military Veterans

Ayni Brigade’s founders include one

By Gabriel Beltrone

The founders of a new agency unveiled Tuesday plan to focus their hiring efforts primarily on military veterans.

The shop, named Ayni Brigade, brings together CEO Mark Russell and creative vp Sherry Russell, both alum of Syracuse-based Eric Mower + Associates, with chief operating officer Brian Hollyfield, himself a retired Marine Corps fighter pilot, who also has been a COO and Atmosphere BBDO.

“We saw an opportunity in the market to do well by doing good,” Russell said. He added that the agency’s co-founders think they can gain a competitive advantage by leveraging the skills veterans have built in the course of military service.

News of the launch comes amid broader efforts, led by former ad agency leaders Ed Vick and Rick Boyko, to recruit military veterans into the industry. Six years ago, Tom Messner also called for such a recruitment drive in a speech at the 4A’s management conference.

Russell cited intelligence gathering, tactical execution and familiarity with emerging technology as some of the experience that veterans would be able apply to the advertising agency’s clients. “The only area that we will be a little more loose in hiring is in the creative space,” said Russell.

Russell declined to name any clients serviced by the new agency, which will focus on digital and events marketing. It has yet to hire any additional staffers, but is in the process of interviewing, he said. The agency plans to have offices in New York and in Dallas.

Ayni, the first half of the agency’s new name, is a reference to the reciprocal practice by which members of traditional indigenous communities in the Andean region of South America assist each other. Mark and Sherry Russell, who are married, first encountered the philosophy while hiking Macchu Picchu in Peru with their two daughters.

10720: Black Veterans Day Salute.

The Root presented “Early Photos of African-American Soldiers” to celebrate Veterans Day.

8151: Shout Out To Navajo Code Talkers.

From USA TODAY…

Navajo Code Talkers honored for WWII efforts

By Marisol Bello, USA TODAY

Keith Little and Frank Chee Willetto know time is no longer on their side.

That’s why the men, World War II veterans who used a code based on the Navajo language to stump the Japanese in battles, spend their days reminding the world of their contribution to ending the war.

As the numbers dwindle — fewer than 100 Code Talkers of the 400 trained by the U.S. military are believed to be alive — the Navajo veterans are being recognized. Today, Veterans Day, a group of them will ring the opening bell at the New York Stock Exchange. New Mexico dedicated a 16-mile stretch of highway to them on Wednesday.

Now, 65 years after serving mostly in the Pacific, the men are trying to establish their legacy on the Navajo reservation in Arizona. Through a foundation, they are about to launch a $42 million fundraising campaign for a museum and veterans center.

“We are all old, and we want to see the result of our efforts,” says Little, 86, a retired logger.

The museum has been more than 10 years in the making, says Willetto, 85. The group had the land but no money. Their efforts were boosted in 2008 with a grant of about $900,000 from the Navajo tribal government to help them form the foundation, design the project and conduct geological tests on the land.

Yvonne Murphy, secretary of the Navajo Code Talkers Association and daughter of a Code Talker, says they are pressed to get started because the average age of the men is 86.

Of the first group of 29 who devised the code for the Marine Corps in 1942, only two remain. Murphy chokes up noting that a Code Talker who served with her father was hospitalized recently and won’t be able to make any Veterans Day appearances.

“For us, the descendants, the children of the Navajo Code Talkers, we want to see our fathers’ dreams come true,” she says. “We want to have a place to go to learn about these men and their historic feats.”

The foundation has a list of 45 Code Talkers who are still alive, but she says there could be as many as 70.

“It’s hard to get a handle on how many are living,” Murphy says. “Most don’t want to talk about it. People still don’t know what they did. We get calls from people saying they didn’t know their father was a code talker. They found his uniform after he died.”

It didn’t help that the men were told by the military not to talk about their service and their work remained classified until 1968, says Zonnie Gorman, the daughter of a Code Talker who has recorded an oral history of their work. Her father, Carl Gorman, was one of the original 29 who devised the code.

“Twenty years ago, if you said ‘Navajo Code Talkers,’ the majority of people would say, ‘Who?’” Gorman says. “At least today the majority of people have at least heard of them.”

The idea for the Code Talkers is credited to Philip Johnston, the son of a Protestant missionary who grew up on the reservation and spoke the language. He convinced the Marines they could enlist the Navajo as messengers, using their language to allow platoons to communicate quickly and securely.

The Code Talkers devised a complex system assigning Navajo words for each letter of the English alphabet and for names of military weapons, equipment and other phrases. Some phrases resembled the things they described. The Navajo word for tortoise, chay-da-gahi, meant tank, and ne-he-mah, which means our mother, meant America. Other words were spelled out using Navajo words to represent letters of the alphabet.

“The military had to coordinate tactical operations on the fly, so they hit on an ingenious solution, to use a language that no one understands, that there are no books for,” says Geoffrey Wawro, who teaches military history at the University of North Texas.

He says the code was used mostly in the Pacific Theater, where platoons made hard landings on beaches and lacked the elaborate equipment that could protect secret communication. The Japanese never broke the code.

“It was one of the many ingredients for success,” he says. “It helped reduce Marine casualties.”

Little enlisted in the Marines at 17 and served as a radioman in the battle of Iwo Jima.

“Iwo Jima was tough during the landing. We had to run to the beach,” he says. “You were being shelled by aircraft and ships.”

He says he spent about a month sending messages about troop positions, equipment needs and enemy movements to military ships and other platoons on the island.

After the war, he says, it was years before he knew the importance of the service he and other Navajo provided.

The irony that their language helped win the war is not lost on some of the men who attended government-run boarding schools where they were forbidden to speak Navajo.

“I had to chew yellow soap every time I got caught talking my own language,” says Willetto, who trained as a Code Talker but never used it in battle. “And then they used our language to come up with a code.”

He says he isn’t angry, though. He wants Americans to know the Navajo did their part and says a museum will show that.

“We want to leave something behind,” Willetto says. “The young people need to know what happened.”

7588: WWII Vets Share Their Stories.

From The Times-Picayune…

Veterans Speak Out After Decades of Silence

By Sarah Carr, The Times-Picayune

Decades after the war was won, the two veterans battled historical ignorance, racial exclusion and the numbing power of silence.

World War II veterans Charles Norman Shay and William Holloman challenged those forces during a moving panel discussion Saturday in New Orleans on the final day of the National World War II Museum’s latest international conference on the conflict.

The two men, one an American Indian and the other African-American, described their wartime and life experiences in a session titled “People of Color in a White Man’s Army.”

Shay, a former combat medic who is now an elder in Maine’s Penobscot tribe, said he returned home to a country that would not let him vote and seemed oblivious to the fact that thousands of American Indians had served their country. He did not speak of his experiences in World War II for 60 years.

Holloman, a Tuskegee Airman and one of the first black pilots to serve in the Army Air Forces, fought for the right to fight for his country, as he put it.

Prisoner of war
Shay grew up during the Depression on the Penobscot reservation in Maine. When the war came, many of his peers — and all three of his brothers — served, some because of patriotism, others because of poverty. He trained to become a combat medic in England, not fully understanding the dangers of the job.

He was among the first Americans to wade ashore on D-Day, and he went on to fight throughout Europe, including at the Battle of the Bulge. German forces captured Shay in 1945, just weeks before the Allied victory. When freed, he somehow found a ship bound for Boston, where he pleasantly surprised his mother, a Navy shipyard worker whose last news of her son had been that he was missing in action.

“I do not remember much of what I saw or experienced,” said Shay who, like Holloman, is now in his mid-80s. He never spoke of the war with his fellow tribesmen or even his three brothers.

“Certainly, no one asked us to make a record of our experiences. So we just forgot,” he said. “And the country forgot as well.”

The forgetting stopped three years ago. Shay grew weary of the exclusion of Indians from the narrative of World War II — including the 60th anniversary celebrations of D-Day and a book on Maine veterans. He wondered: “Is it racism? Or is it ignorance?”

“In this last season of my life, I realized I have an obligation to educate the American public about our contributions and sacrifices for American freedom,” he said.

Entering the war late
Holloman, a native of St. Louis, was 17 when the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor in 1941. He immediately tried to enlist. “They told me to go home until I grew up,” he said.

Holloman entered the war late, not long after Congress forced the Army Air Forces to form an all-black combat unit. In his group of 22 pilots, the average age was 20. “We thought there was nothing like us, and that when Adolf Hitler heard about us, he quit,” Holloman said of the war’s last days.

As some of the U.S. military’s first African-American pilots, the young men also felt intense pressure to perform. “We were very careful of our conduct,” Holloman said. “We were brainwashed to the point of not making mistakes.”

Holloman went on to serve as the first black helicopter pilot in the Air Force, and to fly in Korea and later in Vietnam.

He, too, would later encounter histories, books and popular opinion that ignored or twisted the role minorities played in fighting the war.

“Historians, I believe, write history for themselves,” he said, adding that “this country was built on the backs of the Native Americans and black slaves.”

But Shay and Holloman said they encountered little to no discrimination while in the military. When traveling as a captain in the late 1940s, “people treated me like I was white because I was a captain,” Holloman said.

One woman asked him: “Captain, someone told me that you are colored. Are you colored?”

And once Shay decided to speak out about his experiences, he rediscovered an unspoken understanding with his fellow veterans. “There is a unique feeling of shared history,” he said. “We did not need to exchange stories. We know more than words could ever express.”

7409: Vets Battling Debts.

From The Chicago Tribune…

2 veterans help others battle debt
In exchange for donations, vets do community service under charity’s auspices

By Bonnie Miller Rubin, Tribune reporter

It was past midnight in December 2003, when Roy Brown, a 23-year-old soldier serving in Iraq, experienced a life-changing moment.

Ironically, it didn’t happen in combat but while the South Sider was on the phone, doing battle with a bank over his college loans.

“I’m on the other side of the world, worrying about (bombs) and where my unit would be moving next, and some loan officer is harassing my mother over $82.67,” said Brown, shaking his head. “I just felt so disheartened and let down.”

His high school pal, Eli Williamson, dealt with similar phone calls while overseas: “You can’t even print what I was feeling.”

But the disappointment and anger were followed by action. Once back home in Chicago, the two soldiers used their experiences as motivation to launch a nonprofit called Leave No Veteran Behind, dedicated to relieving the educational debt of those who have served in the military.

Brown and Williamson, both 29, have found office space on LaSalle Street, assembled a board of directors, connected with donors and erased the tuition bills of two servicemen and enrolled another 100 or so applicants, all of whom have been dogged by college bills.

Leave No Veteran Behind uses private donations to pay off a veteran’s outstanding loans. In exchange, the soldier commits to 100 hours of community service, which helps provide purpose for someone who might have difficulty re-entering civilian life.

The GI Bill pays for the education of those who have served honorably, but it does not pick up the tab retroactively, and funding has not kept pace with skyrocketing tuition costs, requiring many cash-strapped GIs to sink further into debt to cover the difference.

That was the situation Williamson and Brown found themselves in. Graduates of Kenwood Academy in Hyde Park, the men went to Luther College in Decorah, Iowa, where they majored in communications and business, respectively. In 1999, with the U.S. not engaged in any major conflicts, they joined the Army Reserves as a way to defray college costs, which now runs almost $38,000 annually at Luther.

Then came 9/11.

During the last semester of Brown’s senior year, in March 2003, he was deployed to Iraq.

“I was totally stunned,” he said. “I’m on a college campus and then, 30 days later, I’m in the sandbox … in a whole other reality.”

Williamson shipped out the following year, first to Fort Bragg, N.C., then to Iraq and Afghanistan. He mistakenly thought his loan payments would be deferred while on duty. Defaulting on his loans threatened not just his bank account but his security clearance.

At one time, the soldier was so desperate he played guitar on streets, working for tips.

“I didn’t want to go to my parents,” said Williamson, who is now married with a baby and owes about $70,000 in loans. “I felt like it was my issue.”

But when the men heard similar stories from other veterans, they felt they had to tackle the problem head on. Since March, they have raised almost $23,000 with the hope of reaching $160,000 by this time next year. (No funds can be used for their own debts).

According to Dan Grant, director of the state Department of Veterans Affairs, Illinois is one of the best states for providing educational benefits to veterans. “But in instances where the GI Bill or the Illinois Veterans Grant does not cover debt ... it’s great that an organization like Leave No Veteran Behind stands ready to make sure that veterans receive needed assistance.”

One of the first recipients was Andrew Quamme, 33, of Daniel Island, S.C., who owed $2,400 for an engineering class.

“When I first got the call, I couldn’t believe it. … I thought it was a scam,” said the Marine, unemployed and expecting his first child. “With the economy the way it is, any bill is a worry.”

Profiles of enrollees can be found on the group’s Web site. But the founders stress that their purpose is not to be one more charity soliciting donations but to offer something in return, Williamson said: “We want people to know that if you make an investment, they are not just benefiting a veteran but the community at large.”

That aspect spurred the Field Foundation of Illinois to give the fledgling initiative $5,000 for its Chicago Public Schools Veteran Engagement Project, which puts soldiers on the streets in the Bronzeville neighborhood to provide an adult presence and resolve conflicts for students en route home.

“We were impressed with the mission and leadership of the organization,” said Mark Murray, the Field Foundation’s senior program officer, “and their ability to create a positive impact in neighborhoods of need.”

That is why the two men—ties crisply knotted, shoes polished to a high gloss—were shivering on a slushy corner of 35th Street and Martin Luther King Drive, where 10 schools converge and a few sharp words can easily erupt into violence.

The intersection is a detour from the high-powered careers and six-figure salaries on their original road map, said Brown, who previously worked as a district manager for Aldi groceries before starting the nonprofit.

“All the perks didn’t equate to moral wealth,” he explained. “A life with no purpose is no life at all.”

7296: G.I. Navajo.

From The Chicago Tribune…

Veterans wall honors American Indians’ military service

By Dan Simmons, Tribune reporter

In his youth, Joe Yazzie wanted to be an artist. But his mother knew he would be a warrior in the proud tradition of his Navajo forebears. He was named for G.I. Joe and was made to run and chop wood in his native New Mexico to keep fit and prepare for war.

“There will be another one,” his mother warned.

She was right. Yazzie was drafted shortly after high school and served a tour in 1964 as an Army machine gunner in Vietnam, joining his brother Harold, a Marine.

“It’s just in our blood,” he said. “We want to be warriors, and we tend to join the military.”

After the war, he moved to Chicago, raised a family and found success as an artist.

Now, in his retirement, he has fused the defining themes of his life as artist-in-residence at the recently opened Native American Wall of Honor at Trickster Gallery in Schaumburg. It’s the second memorial to American Indian veterans in the Midwest and will be on display until next spring.

The American Indian Center of Chicago operates Trickster, the only American Indian-operated arts institute in Illinois. On the wall are framed photos of men and women who wore the uniform in conflicts stretching from the Indian Wars to those in Iraq and Afghanistan. Each was submitted by family members in the Chicago area and bears the veteran’s name, tribe and branch of service. Some wear pressed military suits or bomber jackets; a few are in helmet and fatigues, dog tags visible, clutching machine guns.

Veterans like Yazzie, 67, are still alive. But others on the wall, such as Army Pfc. Lori Ann Piestewa, a Hopi mother of two from Arizona, never came home. Piestewa was the first female soldier killed in Iraq.

Then there are those like Christopher Stumblingbear, a Chippewa-Lakota soldier from Chicago, who remain in harm’s way in Iraq.

Stumblingbear’s wife, Monica Boutwell, coordinated the exhibit along with Yazzie. They hope to expand it substantially and make it a permanent fixture.

“We’re just trying to honor some of the people who served this country,” Yazzie said. “We have every right to be remembered.”

American Indians have fought in every war since the American Revolution, said military historian Eleanor Hannah, who has her doctorate at the University of Chicago and specializes in Illinois National Guard history.

More than 190,000 of them served in the U.S. military during the 20th century, and they enlist at a rate three times higher than any other ethnic group, according to the U.S. Naval Historical Center.

Prominent on the wall is Yazzie’s family.

“Right here, this guy, he’s my grandfather,” he said, pointing to a framed photo of 37 Navajo scouts who served as military police alongside Army forces during the late-1800s campaign against Geronimo.

”And this guy here, that’s my uncle Frank,” he continued, pointing to another photo on the wall of Navajo “code talkers” who used their native language to transmit messages for the Allies in the Pacific during World War II. Congress passed the Code Talkers Recognition Act to honor them in 2002.

Many American Indian families have similar stories to tell, he said. But not all are willing to tell them. The wall at the Trickster attracted only about 40 photos, he said, partly due to a reluctance to talk about their service that runs particularly deep among American Indian veterans.

“They really don’t want to come forward for some reason,” Yazzie said.

Studies of American Indian vets from the Vietnam War era have revealed alarming rates of suicide, drug abuse, alcoholism and homelessness, particularly when they returned from war to remote reservations with little access to mental heath care.

One study of Vietnam-era American Indian vets found they were twice as likely to suffer from post-traumatic stress disorder as their white comrades, a reality some researchers attribute to their often deep identification with the indigenous populations they are sent to fight.

The research also revealed that Native American troops were often more likely to be assigned risky combat roles, another reason for their high PTSD rates.

In many tribes, veterans are granted feathered warrior costumes by medicine men and given the right to lead the procession into powwows. But throughout history there also has been an undercurrent of dissent against veterans among some American Indians, said Hannah, the military historian.

“There are plenty who refused to serve and been critical of anyone who joins,” she said. “There are definitely still those who hold that view.”

The backlash is understandable, she said, among a people who have long fought against the same armed forces they now fight among.

Bill Smith, a Chicago police detective with the gang crimes unit, is Lakota and an Army veteran who fought in Vietnam, Grenada and Panama.

His photo hangs on the wall beside that of his brother-in-law, Albert Wayne Morgan, a Cherokee who served in Vietnam as an airman. Smith noted that military service follows naturally from the warrior ethic.

“We hold warriors in high esteem,” he said. “They’re the protectors, the example setters, for everyone else.”

Yazzie said he returned from Vietnam intact physically but haunted by the deaths of comrades and frustrated by fellow Americans. Others who returned before him warned him not to wear his uniform for fear of being spit on and called “baby killer.” He moved to Chicago, where he had hoped to attend art school. But he said he lapsed into alcoholism.

“There was just no stopping it,” he said. “I was dependent on it.”

Yazzie credits his wife, Lillian, for helping him sober up in the late 1970s and find success as a commercial artist for Montgomery Ward in Chicago.

“She saved my life,” he said, touching the dog tags and silver cross that hang from his neck. “Without her I wouldn’t be sitting here talking to you.”

When he retired, he took up painting, the original reason for his move to Chicago. His paintings feature icons of Indian life and military culture, both celebrating and questioning the intersection.

In one painting on display at Trickster, a woman sports the long black hair and elegant jewels of a Navajo and is wrapped in an American flag. She looks, weeping, at a section of a veterans memorial wall inscribed with names of dozens of fallen soldiers. They include Yazzie’s veteran relatives and James L. Kramer, a comrade from Las Vegas. Kramer went through boot camp with Yazzie and fought alongside him in Vietnam.

“We talked about hot dogs and hamburgers and ice cream,” Yazzie said, “all these things we missed about home that we would do together once we got back.”

Kramer was killed in action when ambushed on a patrol along the Cambodian border. Yazzie never got to say goodbye. He dedicated the painting to Kramer and said he hopes to find his family and give it to them.

“They could have been doctors or lawyers,” he said, pointing to the names of the fallen. “They could have discovered things to improve our lives. But they sacrificed. Ever since, I’ve had this guilty feeling. Why them and not me?”