Amos White continues his oral history by saying, "We played Liberty Loan drives in England, also, in cities as we passed through them. We crossed the Channel at midnight there for Le Harve, France. ... The band was well, well qualified, and while in France, why I told you, that we had to play for this 33rd Division passing in review. They had no band capable of passing them in review and observing all the signals of an officer. Well, I had a fellow name of George Wells. He had been in the 10th Cavalry, was tall and a very handsome youngster, and he knew all the signals for observance of an officer in review passing, and he carried them out to the letter while I always stood to the left of my band, you know. We stayed in this review passing for, oh, from nine o'clock in the morning until after four in the afternoon. ...
"From Le Harve, why we were on an underground train, straight on up through the middle of Paris, and when we got right near this big city of Lille, which was a railroad center in France, then we came up, surfaced up, which was well-guarded around there for they were watching for the Germans to attack them at that time, and right out of Lille we had to go underground again ... so we were just on a crawling train on what they now call the Forty and Eight, that boxcar that holds 12 hogs, eight horses, or 24 men. (Laughs) Chevaux or hombres, you see. I've forgotten what they call a hog, but anyhow, it was swine then in French. I've forgotten my French. I could remember easily if I could refer to some of the old records.
At that point, an unidentified male voice says, "Cochon."
Amos White replies, "Yeah, Eight horses, twelve cochon, or 24 hombres. Then began my history of the 816th Band. Well the history of the 816th Band measures up very credibly in that while we were stationed in Verdun, every afternoon, except Saturday and Sunday, that is, we had to play a concert in Chevre Square in Verdun, aside from other places we did around in various camps.
"I serenaded Harry Truman over there. Captain Harry Truman. But I didn't know it was Captain Harry Truman. Well, I knew it was Captain Harry Truman, then, but I heard no more about him until he became Senator, United States Senator. When we arrived out at the camp with two truckloads of instruments and two truckloads of band jumped out, why he was sitting at the piano playing....So, when we walked in, I said, 'I'm reporting from the 816th by the orders of Col. Chapman to come up here and serenade you.' He said, 'Hell, we don't need any serenading up here. I'm doing the serenading. Y'all go back there and get you something to eat and go on back to camp.' (Laughs) He's a wonderful guy, you know. That's why I love him until today. He was so forthright. A great man.
"But, back to the regimental band activities. Now, when they started building this big cemetery out from Verdun in a little town called Montfaucon, Romagne, a little town just beyond Montfaucon, where the cemetery is presently situated now, I suppose, if it hasn't been demolished, why we were stationed up there from March, the eighth, until June, the eighth, and in the construction of this cemetery, now my band was never called to do any work, any of the work. All we were required to do was to entertain the boys, and we were given our company street and company barracks to put up our big tents, and I had the tent at the head of the barracks, and here was the Colonel's quarters down here, and I dined in the Colonel's quarters, not with the Colonel and his staff, but I dined in his quarters. The better, higher non-commissioned officers all dined over there. A little better service too. Strange to say. I don't want to be different from the men. Create a little jealousy. But that was the way it was handled. I had to obey the orders of the other higher non-coms. Course, I was the highest non-com in my regiment. I was acting warrant officer. I was never commissioned, however, but I drew the salary of a warrant officer, and I had the power of a warrant officer. Mine was only as an assistant bandmaster, that's the rank, permanent rank. That was the discharge rank, too, because no commission was ever signed. And you don't go for the commissions, but I was the bandmaster, the recognized bandmaster, and I had no other bandmaster over me at any time. I had no other officer over me. All my conducting of my band over there was done with me alone as the sole arbiter of anything.
"I serenaded General John J. Pershing four times. At the groundbreaking for the cemetery building he was there. My men sat right under the stand. My band did the salutation number for his entry. At the closing my band played The Stars and Stripes and the French National Anthem. The French National Anthem first and The Stars and Stripes last. At the conclusion of this cemetery, General Pershing was up there again to set the flag up and proclaim the cemetery the largest in the world. And this was a big day. The 8th day of June, nineteen hundred and nineteen. And again, my band was the host band to General John J. Pershing. Now, then, right after that, we were supposed to go down and take his band's place at Chaumont, but orders from General Smedley B. Butler at Le Havre changed the orders. He set the order that the 816th Pioneer Infantry would sail in August for the United States. When we got to Le Havre, France, General Smedley B. Butler proclaimed this band is now the Army Camps Band, and you are disassociated with the 816th Pioneer Infantry....
"Well, each day our only requirements were that we play a concert in the Y at a little after noon, or before noon, sometimes early in the morning. I got all my orders from him, typewritten orders. Your band will entrain today and play for so and so and so, such dignitaries as would be arriving. All the soldiers were entraining for home. Then you will proceed down to the docks today at 2:30 and there you'll stand guard and play for the sailing of troops home until 8 o'clock tonight. So, you see, my band had unusual privileges down in Le Havre. And during the loading of a ship here and the sailing of that ship. And another ship would come in and another bunch of soldiers would start coming. They had leave, so they would run all around the town, and some of them came back with 'saxophonia.' (Laughs) We had a very good time there. And my boys were very obedient to every wish of mine. While they were beating up other bandmasters over there, they threw one overboard coming back. They threw one bandmaster over the ship. They'd whip up a bandmaster in a minute, especially if he was a non-commissioned bandmaster–you didn't have any voice. They'd whip up an officer, for that matter. They were mad to come home, but my band was just as jubilant over coming home, but, yet, well, I had to be somewhat conciliatory with them. 'Well, you'll be home pretty soon.' 'I wonder if they're going to keep us in the Army,' some of them would say, and I'd say, 'Aw, no, you'll be mustered out as soon as you get over there.' Little did I think that would be done, but that was my word to them. And, sure enough, once we came back; we gave a concert on the ship coming back, every day. We got back in eleven days.
"But we stayed in Le Havre down there for a solid 24 days, and we had a wonderful time there in Le Havre.
"After I got my discharge in Louisville, Kentucky, I headed down to New Orleans..."
And in New Orleans, he was asked to join a band to take the place of a trumpeter who was leaving for Chicago. That trumpeter was Louis Armstrong.
This July marked the 41st anniversary of Amos White's death. But for the past several weeks, as I've listened to and transcribed his oral history, I've felt as if I were in his presence. It has had far more of an emotional impact than I would have imagined. It has underlined the importance to me of two things. One, is that we all have a story waiting to be told, and the second is the value of recording oral histories. The Williamsburgh Historical Society will soon open the African-American Archives of Williamsburg. One section of the archives will include a recording booth for Williamsburg County residents, regardless of ethnicity, to record their own oral histories. I hope many of you will consider doing just that, with a child, or grandchild, a sibling, other family member, or maybe with a friend. Think about the pleasure your great-great grandchildren will have if they are able to hear your voice many years from now as you tell them your little piece of Williamsburg County's history.
1 comment:
Great piece of history. Thanks
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