CHAPTER 14
Yes, I Can!
DURING WORLD WAR II WHEN I WAS IN THE U.S. ARMY, I was once put in charge of transporting some fifteen wounded American soldiers from an army hospital in Memphis, Tennessee, to another hospital in the south. A few hours after we left Memphis by train, we stopped at a railway station in a town in the Deep South and were about to go into a Fred Harvey restaurant for lunch when a greeter stopped us at the door. He wouldn’t permit the few African American soldiers in our group to enter this segregated restaurant. I saw that there was a long table of about ten German prisoners, dressed in fatigues with foot-high POW letters on their backs, eating inside. I objected violently to this ugly discrimination, but to no avail. In the ...
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