369th Ww1 Infantry: Harlem Hellraisers Poem by Sheena Blackhall

369th WW1 Infantry
Private Henry Johnson of Albany, New York,
His French Lebel rifle firmly in his hand
Peered into the dreary wastes of no-man's-land

His ears were alert for the coming of German raiders
Shapes shifted in the feeble light of the moon
He'd been a porter, son of a tobacco farmer
A soldier now, the best in his platoon

He crouched down in the battlefield front line
Silence, snip, the barbed wire being cut
He fired a warning rocket to the sky,
Grenades exploded, he was badly hurt

He shot and clubbed the Germans in his dugout
Killed four, won Croix de Guerre for bravery
One of the Harlem Hellfighters black troops
Who trained in the deep South's Jim-Crow country

Jim Crow laws were race laws in the South.
To keep the whites and black people apart
In public places, transport, restaurants, schools
Though black and white share soul, share breath, share heart

The 369th endured huge casualties
General Pershing assigned them to the French
144 killed and near 1,000 wounded
In ditch, in woods, on barbed wire, and in trench

In 1919, crowds along Fifth Avenue
Honoured the Hell-fighters with a parade
The soldiers marched French style,16 abreast
Henry in car, held flowers at his chest

Ninety-seven years after Henry's valour in France,
Obama awarded him a posthumous Medal of Honour,
America's highest military award,
To Henry Johnson hero, man of colour