Worse Than Murder

Author(s):  
David Silkenat

This chapter compares how Ulysses S. Grant and Nathan Bedford Forrest used surrender. While Forrest demanded surrender and threatened a massacre if refused, Grant saw surrender as an opportunity to prevent bloodshed. The chapter includes discussion of unconditional surrender and the massacre of African American soldiers at Fort Pillow.

Author(s):  
Amanda M. Nagel

In the midst of the long black freedom struggle, African American military participation in the First World War remains central to civil rights activism and challenges to systems of oppression in the United States. As part of a long and storied tradition of military service for a nation that marginalized and attempted to subjugate a significant portion of US citizens, African American soldiers faced challenges, racism, and segregation during the First World War simultaneously on the home front and the battlefields of France. The generations born since the end of the Civil War continually became more and more militant when resisting Jim Crow and insisting on full, not partial, citizenship in the United States, evidenced by the events in Houston in 1917. Support of the war effort within black communities in the United States was not universal, however, and some opposed participation in a war effort to “make the world safe for democracy” when that same democracy was denied to people of color. Activism by organizations like the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP) challenged the War Department’s official and unofficial policy, creating avenues for a larger number of black officers in the US Army through the officers’ training camp created in Des Moines, Iowa. For African American soldiers sent to France with the American Expeditionary Forces (AEF), the potential for combat experience led to both failures and successes, leading to race pride as in the case of the 93rd Division’s successes, and skewed evidence for the War Department to reject increasing the number of black officers and enlisted in the case of the 92nd Division. All-black Regular Army regiments, meanwhile, either remained in the United States or were sent to the Philippines rather than the battlefields of Europe. However, soldiers’ return home was mixed, as they were both celebrated and rejected for their service, reflected in both parades welcoming them home and racial violence in the form of lynchings between December 1918 and January 1920. As a result, the interwar years and the start of World War II roughly two decades later renewed the desire to utilize military service as a way to influence US legal, social, cultural, and economic structures that limited African American citizenship.


Author(s):  
Aaron Shaheen

The chapter assesses the government-sponsored periodical Carry On, which frequently used the term “spirit” not just to describe the resilience of individual disabled veterans, but also the intellectual and artistic capabilities that distinguished Anglo-Americans from other races and ethnicities. In its run from 1918 to 1919,Carry On showcased the federal government’s new rehabilitative and vocational services by implicitly and explicitly drawing on evolutionary frameworks to show that only Anglo-American men were capable of transforming a prosthetic into a soul-enriching, civilization-advancing device. To make this point clearer, the magazine features several disabled African American soldiers, whose evolutionary stagnancy renders them unable to make prosthetics spiritually transformative instruments. Their depicted deficiencies are similar to the articles’ renderings of German primitiveness and brutality. In this light, the magazine shows just how slippery and manipulative racial codification could be in the opening decades of the twentieth century.


2016 ◽  
Vol 51 (3) ◽  
pp. 721-749
Author(s):  
CHRISTOPHER M. STERBA

Billy the Kid spoke his last words in Spanish. Calling out “¿Quién es? ¿Quién es?” before he was killed by Sheriff Pat Garrett, the young outlaw's final moments signal his diverse ethnic context. This article examines the Kid's close contact with the Southwest's communities of color – New Mexico's Mescalero Apache Indians, African American soldiers, and Hispano farmers – and why these communities have been removed from countless popular representations of the Kid's story. Their omission has helped to perpetuate a uniquely Western and white American ideal of individualism and served to legitimize a libertarian and ahistorical ideal of violence: the rebellion of an outlaw who defies the rest of his society and his times.


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