Unfamiliar Faces – Lost to History

Last week I published a post called “Unfamiliar Faces – Lost to History” where I listed a few people who were affiliated with major historical events in some way but whom we do not hear much about. I stated that I will attempt to list a few every Thursday. This is not a promise. I will do my best, but most of the faces of the truly unknown are not on Google but are hidden inside the pages of books I’d have to revisit, articles and documentaries. Below are four more faces of the unknown I found this week:

#1: The Harlem Hellfighters

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For those who didn’t already know, African Americans have fought in every major war. Little is known of one of the few black combat regiments of World War I. Nicknamed “The Harlem Hellfighters”, February 17th, the day of their battle, became an unofficial holiday. On February 18th of 1919, 3,000 veterans of the 369th Infantry (formerly known as the 15th Colored Regiment) paraded up Fifth Avenue at 23rd Street to 145th and Lenox for the prestigious Croix de Guerre from the French army.

#2: The Olmecs 

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The Olmecs, whose features are similar to that of the African and Asian, are another part of black history we do not often hear about. They, The Olmecs, carved about twenty-two colossal stone heads in the southern parts of Mexico with their likeness and their influence have been found in Guatemala and further south. Olmec type sculptures have also been found in parts of the U.S. In fact, I am not sure if its still there, but there was an Olmec head on the property of The Field Museum in Chicago. If its still there, it should be somewhere near the back for those of you who are in the city.

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The Olmecs and other pre-columbian Blacks of the Americas were part of a prehistoric trade network that began in Africa and spread worldwide over 100,000 years ago and at various periods afterwards. To learn more about them, read They Came Before Columbus by Ivan Van Sertima and Susu Economics: The History of Pan-African Trade, Commerce, Money and Wealth.

#3: Cpl. Roman Ducksworth Jr

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A military police officer stationed in Maryland, was on leave to visit his sick wife when he was ordered off a bus by a police officer and shot dead. The police officer may have mistaken Ducksworth for a “freedom rider” who was testing bus desegregation laws.

#4. Triple Nickles

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When my husband and I went to the movies about a month ago, a man had on a shirt displaying The Triple Nickle. My husband, former military, stopped and sparked up a conversation with the man. He was surprised to see it since no one really knew who they were. To our surprise, neither did the man. He was just wearing the shirt.

In 1944, 16 black men completed jump training and became parachute-qualified. The Triple Nickles Battalion was the first black airborne unit. Historians suggest the unit paved the way for a more integrated military.

Guest Feature: Waiting for Someone – Lamar Jorden

“Somewhere
In the Northwest region of Seattle Washington
There’s a homeless man, armed with a beer can
Trying to drink away war memories
Waiting for someone
Self-less enough to lend him an ear
He sits on the side of a Pizzeria on the corner of Queen Ann and Mercer
In a chair, they probably kick him out of after business hours
His skin
Has grown all too fond of the concrete beds that he rest his shell-shocked head on
His braggadocios body
rocks back and forth showing off to the world the only gifts war veterans ever receive
He addresses me, “Ey lil Bra, you got a dollar?”
Without even checkin my pockets I tell him, “I aint got it”.
Having anticipated this appointment he responds with,
“That’s fine, cause I really wanted a 20.”
Amazed, not that he still knows what humor is,

but that is one of the few possessions that the war actually let him keep, I laugh
Before digging into my coat pocket filled with a ton of change I’ll probably never use
He lets me know that more than a 20, what he really wanted was a conversation
And takes my 75 cent donation as an invitation to start one
Without offering much space for me to converse,

he lets me know how in this country,
war veterans are rarely anything more
Than patriotic flies on a wall
And that for all these people to ignore his request
Is just as second nature as swatting at a pest
I guess
None of them realize that here lie their tax dollars at work
His body jerks
To the percussion of his bones
Dancing to the song of post-traumatic stress syndrome
How wrong
Is it of humans to lack humanity
Demanding he keep his lips locked but
Possess the audacity to ask where he got his army cap on
To think it’s a trigger you can purchase at a gift shop he tells me
That they’ve labeled him as crazy and they say

he has to take medicine called percadine but the one time he took it
It made him high so why would he continue when it makes his mind worse with time
It seems like the perfect crime
Having people fight for a country that won’t fight for them
The goal
Was for one of those countries to take his life from him
And the opposing country failed when he
Returned to civilization but
The home country would succeed by stripping him of his home
How long
Will this be the standard in this country?
Where if war doesn’t kill you
They distill you
Sending you back home just to rot and mildew
the phrase
“War is good for absolutely nothing”, is still true
Before he lets me go,
he tells me
that he wants to die.
And I see the tear-shaped white flag surrender from his eye
I give him a pound
Before digging back into my coat pockets surrendering

the rest of the change I found.
I tell him I have to go
Cause there’s a white man, screaming at me through traffic
Waiting for me to end this conversation
There’s a young lady at a bar and grill across the street
Waiting for me to join her for dinner
And there’s a poem
Scratching at the insides of my soul
Waiting for me
To tell this story.”

Copyright Lamar Jorden