In Honor of Memorial Day
When the American colonists rebelled against the British crown espousing the cries of freedom and God given inalienable rights, African slaves, aware of the changes swirling around them, asked themselves, “So what of my freedom?”
When Southern states rebelled against our country in an attempt to destroy these United States of America, African slaves seized the moment, and when provided the opportunity to take up arms in the fight for their freedom, they did so with pride, honor, and love of country — for since the beginning of the American experiment, they vigorously prayed to God Almighty for the day when they too could truly be Americans, and thus, truly be free.
Since the Civil War, Black Americans have used military service as a means to prove to American society that they too are Americans — that they were worthy of their freedom; that they were deserving of the ratification of the 13th, 14th, and 15th Amendments; that they were worthy of the vote and to fully participate in all those things that make America great.
With the conclusion of the Spanish American War and WWI, Black American veterans, having proven their bravery, gallantry, and patriotism, returned home to the same segregated un-American treatment from whence they had come. Participation in both of these wars imbued within Black Americans that their service would be rewarded with full citizenship. Instead, veterans were attacked and murdered in the streets in countless cities across the country, both North and South. Despite it all, when WWII and the Korean War commenced, Black Americans willingly and proudly served, again with the hopes of attaining full citizenship in our American society.
My family has consecutively served our nation in uniform since WWI, beginning with my great grandfather. My grandfathers are WWII and Korea veterans. The mass majority of my uncles are WWII, Korea, and Vietnam veterans. My father is a retired U.S. Marine Corps colonel, and two of his brothers are veterans. My little brother, like I, is a West Point graduate and is currently still on active duty. Our family wears our duty to country as a badge of honor. It is something that uniquely binds us and makes us an intricate part of the American story.
For instance, my great grandfather, “Papa” John Orphey, whom I was blessed to have known as a child, was a Black Creole from St. Martinesville, Louisiana. Creole was his primary language — in fact, it was his only language, and so he had to learn how to speak English during basic training. During WWI, General Pershing assigned all of the U.S. Black soldiers to the French Army, in lieu of them fighting alongside [white] U.S. forces. Papa John’s Creole was so close to French that he served as his commander’s driver and translator. Upon returning to Louisiana after the war, Papa John purchased a homestead in Slidell, but after the Klan burned a cross in front of his home three times, he justifiably abandoned his property and moved his family to Lake Charles, Louisiana. Despite the terrorist action taken against him and his family, Papa John still had love of country and community. He was active in the Knights of Columbus and Lake Charles’ American Legion post. All of his sons served our nation during a time of war, from WWII to Vietnam.
Due to how Black Americans were forced to maneuver in society for the sake of survival, when the armed forces were expanded in the late 70s and 80s, Black officers were not inclined to mentor one another out of fear of being labeled as playing favorites with Black junior officers — even though their white counterparts were and had been openly doing so amongst each other. The result was that my dad’s generation of officers received very little, if any, mentorship, a form of relationship building that is imperative for both professional growth and mission accomplishment. Thus, promotions of Black officers in the higher ranks were not prominent and retention rates were low.
Times, fortunately, have changed for the better. In our present era, there is no excuse for Black officers (and non-commissioned officers) to not mentor each other. This has helped to develop mentorship as a way to instill within the subordinate that someone cares about his or her professional development and ensures that senior officers are helping the Army produce great leaders for now and the future.
The mentorship I have received from both Black and non-Black officers has assisted in my professional growth in both the Army and as a civilian. Over the years, my mentors have been there for me to provide guidance when opportunities were unknown and to act as sounding boards for brainstorming new ideas. Primarily, they were there and continue to be there in a supportive role: keeping me motivated and focused on the strategic big picture. And, all of these relationships cross every line one can think of: ethnicity, gender, religion, etc. I am blessed to have come up in an era in our Army where I can freely mentor and be mentored without the fear of negative labels being attached to me — for without mentorship, I do not know what the level of my success would have been or shall be.
Now, it is my turn to witness the great successes of the cadets whom I had mentored while at West Point, and the soldiers, NCOs, and junior officers I had led in Iraq. This, standing as a mentor to such inspiring men and women, is my greatest pride.
These days, mentorship is expected. My cohorts and I look down, rightfully so, upon those who do not mentor others, those who put their own ambitions ahead of the needs of others. Such sentiment is frowned upon in good organizations and should not be tolerated. If Black people wish to advance and better themselves, mentoring one another is a key component of ensuring that we all move forward together in growing and creating a greater society. We Black Americans are still fighting many battles within this great American experiment. If we want to succeed, if we wish to overcome, we must do so together.
Terron Sims, II is a former captain with the U.S. Army. He served in Iraq from 2003–2004. He is currently a Security Fellow with the Truman National Security Project. Views expressed are his own.
