By May 1943 the Red Cross had sent black female Red Cross workers to Europe. Some were stationed at service clubs in England—in Liverpool, Bristol, and London. Others were assigned to clubmobiles or to field service.
Many soldiers thought the American women they met at the Red Cross clubs were special. But some seemed to have a distinctive appeal for the soldiers who were far from home. Camille King Jones of Chicago was always cheerful and endeared herself to the soldiers by participating in any club activities with a smile and a friendly word. Her attractive personality earned her recognition as the “unofficial sweetheart of all the colored soldiers” who came to London.
But the fact that a woman wore a Red Cross uniform didn’t automatically mean she would be treated with respect. A black journalist named Vincent Lushington “Roi” Ottley reported an incident that illustrated how ugly some American servicemen could be when it came to living and working with black women—even those wearing Red Cross uniforms.
J. Clarice Brooks was a social worker in New York when she decided to join the Red Cross and volunteer for overseas duty. One of her assignments was at a club for black servicemen in Belfast, Ireland. One night five white American soldiers saw Clarice at a Red Cross club for white soldiers as she was waiting for a ride to her living quarters.
“There’s the b— that’s runnin’ the club for n—,” one of the soldiers shouted.
Clarice replied, “This is a Red Cross club for American soldiers if they behave themselves.”
The soldiers wouldn’t leave her alone. “What do you mean? N— are better behaved than we are?” one of them sneered.
Another soldier said to his friend, “Are you going to let her talk to you like that?”
“Let’s beat her up,” another chimed in.
“Yeah, we know how to treat n—!” agreed another.
As the white soldiers began to move in on Clarice, a white officer approached the group and prevented the soldiers from harming her. Afterward, Clarice reported the incident to authorities and wanted to press charges against the soldiers. But, she said, nothing was ever done about the ugly incident.
Roi Ottley wrote about Clarice’s experience in an article titled “Dixie Invades Britain.” He believed that British behavior toward black Americans was negatively influenced by white American soldiers. Some of those Americans were racist—like the ones who threatened Clarice—and Roi reported that those Americans encouraged the British to follow racist policies. The title of his article reflected his belief that the Jim Crow practices of Dixie—the American South—had traveled across the Atlantic. But the reality was that racism could be found in Britain as well as in Dixie. Racism was not exclusively American.
In 1943 when Carol Jarrett, Henrine Ward, Lucille McAllister, and Gertrude Furlowe arrived at the Red Cross club building in Bristol that was designated for black servicemen and -women, they found the building in rubble. It had been hit by enemy bombs, and the rooms were open to the skies. The floors were wet from rain, and only two rooms were livable. Within a year the Red Cross women—with help from the citizens of Bristol—had transformed the building. The newly refurbished Red Cross club had a cafeteria, sleeping rooms, and recreation facilities. Soldiers who needed a respite from the war could get a tasty meal and a peaceful night’s sleep in a clean room. They could dance with a pretty girl, and play basketball, tennis, badminton, horseshoes, ping-pong, and billiards.
The arrival of the first black Red Cross women in England caught the attention of British civilians and caused a sensation among the black American servicemen. But it was nothing compared to the commotion created when a single black woman reported for duty along the Alcan Highway in March 1943. About 1,300 men turned out to witness the arrival of Hazel Dixon Payne in minus-70-degree temperatures at Dawson Creek, British Columbia.
The men were part of the all-black 95th Engineers regiment of the US Army, and they were building a highway through Canada and Alaska. The road was known as the Alcan Highway. The soldiers had been in Alaska for a year and a half and hadn’t seen a black woman in all that time. Hazel reported that, “The expression on their faces exhibited tension, anxiety, and a grand appreciation for a Negro woman.”
Hazel was the assistant field director of the Red Cross club located at the 95th Engineer army post. She was taken by car over a dirt road to her new home—a room in a wooden hut. When she arrived in her room she saw a dressing table, wash-stand, and chest of drawers made from odd pieces of wood. Hazel found a note on the dressing table that read,
To the first lady of the Alcan, we are pleased to have you and hope that you will enjoy the use of this furniture as much as we have enjoyed making it for you. You are brave and have done a fine thing to leave all the comforts of civilian life to come to us and may God guide you and keep you always. We feel as if this war is really worth fighting for now that you have come to us, and we know we will win this war.
Hazel was determined to open the Red Cross Club as soon as possible. She spent her first day sewing curtains, cleaning windows, and arranging furniture. She also spent some time interviewing the soldiers about their welfare. Over the next few months Hazel made the club into a “home away from home” for the soldiers. She managed to get a couple of pool tables and ping-pong tables. A stage was built where the men produced a play called Dozing Along, which was about their lives on the Alcan Highway, where bulldozers were the common form of transportation. Hazel said her experience on the Alcan Highway was something she’d never forget. She was grateful that she was able to serve her country and the Red Cross. “It also makes me believe that this democracy is worth fighting for and I know we will win this war. I intend to do my part.”
In July 1943 Hazel was sent to London, England, where she supervised the Home Hospitality Committee at a Red Cross club for black service members. It was her duty to help create positive relations between black American soldiers and the British citizens. Hazel did do her part for the war effort, but she didn’t live to see the end of the war. In October 1944 she died after a surgery and was buried in England.
Some Red Cross assignments were definitely more enviable than others. Three black Red Cross workers arrived at their destination in February 1944. Sara R. Johnson, Helen Chequita Lone-wolf, and Ruby Kelly had been sent to operate a “negro-staffed club” for the Red Cross “somewhere in North Africa.” Ruby, a former teacher, had requisitioned a beautiful farmhouse with a view of the Mediterranean Sea for use as the Red Cross clubhouse. Thousands of black troops in the area visited the Country Club, as it was known. Ruby was astonished one day when a soldier threw his arms around her, picked her up, and carried her into the clubhouse. The soldier was her brother-in-law; he had heard she was in North Africa, where he was stationed. He had been looking for her whenever he had a spare moment. He finally spotted her at the Country Club and was so happy he couldn’t resist sweeping Ruby off her feet. She was embarrassed by the whole thing, but the soldiers who watched the spectacle were delighted.
Cheers and applause greeted four black Red Cross volunteers when they arrived at the Doctor Carver Club in Australia in August 1943. They were the first black volunteers to arrive in Australia, and the black soldiers were thrilled at the sight of Grace Outlaw, Clara Wells, Rosemary Spears, and Geraldine Randall. Grace had been a social worker in New York City before volunteering to go overseas with the Red Cross. Clara had a master’s degree in physical therapy and was excited about her first trip abroad although her seasickness made the trip a little less enjoyable. Rosa had worked in Oregon for the YWCA before joining the Red Cross. And it was expected that Geraldine would be especially popular with the soldiers because she “could make the piano talk.”
In October 1944 another family reunion took place “somewhere in the Southwest Pacific.” Thelma Holman Raynor was serving with the Red Cross when she met James Newman, a sailor from Virginia. She remembered meeting a sailor named Frank Newman just a few days before this. She asked James if he had a brother. James said
he did have a brother named Frank, and he thought his brother was in “this part of the world.” Thelma told James she knew with certainty that he was, because she had just met him. It didn’t take long for Thelma to get the brothers together. She immediately planned a special dinner at the Red Cross club where she worked. The Newman brothers, along with Thelma, enjoyed a happy reunion.
“Somewhere in New Guinea,” in January 1944, the Pittsburgh Courier newspaper reported, six black “goddesses” stepped off a ship to the awe of hundreds of black soldiers. The women were Red Cross workers who had volunteered for overseas duty. But to the soldiers—some who hadn’t seen a woman in months—they were goddesses. Rosa Spears, Clara Wells, Norma Manley, Nola “Kitty” Cox, Laura Anderson, and Mary Parker had come to operate the Club Papua. The soldiers had walked miles to get a glimpse of the women. Some of the soldiers brought gifts. Some talked and talked. Some were silent. Some just stared. Others had tears in their eyes.
Clara Wells must have been a very levelheaded woman, or she could have been swept off her feet. She arrived at Club Papua from her former assignment at the Doctor Carver Club. Clara said she received hundreds of marriage proposals while she was in Australia. And while that might sound like a glamorous life, Clara described her typical day at a Red Cross club as far from glamorous: no time for breakfast, no coffee, no juice, no ice, no bath, no mouthwash, plenty of ants and mosquitoes, and—thankfully—plenty of deodorant brought from home. After a game of cards and a ride in an amphibious jeep—a vehicle that traveled on land and water, she ate her lunch of beef and corn. Then she read some of her 188 letters—mostly from soldiers—and one from her boyfriend. She wrapped packages for a soldier, wrote a letter to an anxious mother, and sent a sympathy letter to a bereaved family. Late in the afternoon a group of soldiers leaving for a “destination unknown” asked her to sing their favorite song for them—“Baby, Don’t You Cry.”
“No matter what you say
I’m gonna leave you right away
So now, baby, baby, don’t you cry.”
Kitty Cox was one of the black women who worked at the Club Papua, and it prepared her well for her next assignment at Oro Bay, a city of tents, crude wooden structures, and thatched huts carved out of the jungle. It was home to 10,000 soldiers. And those 10,000 soldiers idolized the only woman at Oro Bay—Kitty Cox.
When Kitty arrived in April 1944 she was one of two black women sent to operate the Red Cross recreation hall called Club Paradise. The other woman—Laura Anderson—stayed for a couple of months before she left for her home in the United States. Kitty was left to manage the club alone. Kitty decided to take advantage of the 10,000 soldiers and put them to work. The men organized committees to operate the club. They elected officers and had a constitution.
Although the soldiers took on much of the work of running the club, Kitty had plenty to do. She had a knack for locating scare supplies—ice cream, jam, cheese, chess sets, ping-pong balls, paper cups, lumber, bolts of cloth, books, and even circus tents. She even managed to hustle up aluminum from wrecked airplanes when the soldiers needed materials for their hobby workshop. She had to get the clubmobile—a big van stocked with snacks and soft drinks—out to isolated locations for the men who couldn’t get in to Club Paradise. And the fact that the club’s committees were operated by soldiers presented a unique problem. Sometimes an entire committee was wiped out overnight by the enemy. When that happened, Kitty had to assume the responsibilities of that committee until replacements could be found. Most days Kitty spent 12 to 14 hours a day at the club before returning to her sleeping quarters at the Banana Manor.
By the end of 1944, France had been liberated from German occupation. Black American soldiers were stationed in France, and Red Cross officials moved black workers from England to set up and manage clubs for the soldiers. Geneva Holmes had already spent 10 months in Plymouth, England, where she provided services for the thousands of black soldiers who participated in the D-day invasion at Normandy, France, in June 1944. Now she was off to Paris. Olive Blackwell, Estelle Trent, Geraldine Ross, and Thelma Pratt left England for Paris as well. Sydney Taylor Brown was sent to operate a club at Le Mann, France; and Lucille McAllister went to Rennes. La Verne Birch and C. Gladys Martin were sent to operate the Liberty Club at Cherbourg.
Some of the newly arrived women would be attached to clubmobiles on the famous Red Ball Express. After the liberation of France the Allied armies had the Germans on the run. As the Allies chased the retreating Germans across France and Germany, they needed huge amounts of supplies—especially gasoline. The Sherman tanks were gas guzzlers—moving only one to two miles on a gallon of gasoline. But it wasn’t easy getting supplies from the port cities to the fighting men. So the military came up with a plan to take over two roads just for their use. Six hundred miles of roadway—the Red Ball Express—was designated for military use only. One road was used solely by the trucks loaded with supplies; the other road was used solely by the returning trucks. The trucks ran 24 hours a day. Most of the truck drivers were black servicemen. They were whom the black Red Cross women were sent to France to serve. With the exhausting schedule, the soldiers were in need of rest and relaxation when they could get it. The Red Cross workers were there to offer it.
Clubmobile in France, March 1945.
Courtesy of the American Red Cross/All rights reserved in all countries
Mines, mud, mountainous terrain, and bitterly cold floodwa-ters made the fighting especially miserable for the all-black 92nd Division of the army in western Italy in late 1944 and early 1945. Add to that constant, heavy shellfire from the enemy. It was almost unbearable for the soldiers. But not far behind the front lines, Red Cross workers Geneva Howard, Marie Leach, Sybil Gowby, and Elizabeth Coppin offered a break from the misery. They operated a portable club unit that provided facilities for reading, writing, and recreation, along with a snack bar. And for those soldiers who were fighting in isolated areas and not able to get to the portable units, Ruth Pius, Viola Miller, and Gladys Powell drove a clubmobile to the soldiers. They got as close to the front lines as possible to deliver coffee and fresh doughnuts.
Sara B. Johnson (left), Geraldine Dyson (middle), and Evelyn G. Vaughan (right) with the Red Cross serve hot coffee and doughnuts to troops manning anti-aircraft defenses with the Fifth Army in Italy in 1943. Courtesy of the American Red Cross by Ollie Atkins/All rights reserved in all countries
Red Cross club girls Wilhelmina Barrow and Juanita Morrow, both from New York City, serve troops of the 27th Chemical Company after traveling 100 miles by truck to deliver cookies and doughnuts, October 1945. American Red Cross photo by Gerald Waller, courtesy of the American Red Cross/All rights reserved in all countries
Red Cross volunteers Jeannette C. Dorsey and Willie Lee Johnson join in some musical fun with Cpl. Robert Barttow and Pvt. James Montgomery in Assam, India, August 1944. National Archives, AFRO/AM in WW II List #204
The Red Cross club located at Margherita, India, was a unique club that served both black and white servicemen. It was staffed by black Red Cross personnel. The facility looked like a country club situated at the top of a hill at the end of a winding road. Servicemen and Red Cross staff could sit on the balcony that overlooked fields of green tea plants. The club had a library, card rooms, and a canteen that offered sandwiches, doughnuts, apple pie, and ice cream. The club was a popular place. Between 400 and 1,200 servicemen visited every day. Willie Lee Johnson, Faye Sandifer, M. Virginia Bailey, and Jeannette C. Dorsey were Red Cross workers who served as staff assistants at the club.
As spring approached in 1945, the war was beginning to wind down in the European theater. And by summer, the war would be over in the Pacific region too. Red Cross workers who had been in war zones for years were beginning to think of home and postwar America.
Thoughts of Home
In May 1945, J. Pericles McDuffie was passing through London on her way home to the States. She carried her luggage through the train station and
made her way through the city on VE Day (Victory in Europe Day) while all of London’s train porters and taxi drivers were out celebrating. Pericles didn’t mind the inconvenience though. She had reached London from her assignment in Paris in only 14 hours—amazing considering it had taken her 14 days traveling from London to Paris at the height of the fighting a few months earlier. It was wonderful to get back to a city that was now free of bombs.
“At least 10,000 people were milling around Buckingham Palace, and everyone in the city was wearing red, white and blue,” said Pericles of her return to London. She was surprised to see the usually conservative Londoners in “a peace-happy mob that kissed the bobbies [policemen] ’til their faces were red from lipstick as well as embarrassment.”
While Pericles was on her way back to the United States, two other American women were still in Europe and only dreaming of home. Mary Stamper had enjoyed being stationed in France, but in her opinion San Francisco was the most beautiful city in the world. Henrine Ward Banks was operating the Canebiere Club in Marseille, France, and got word that she was going home after three years away. When she arrived at her mother’s house she planned to first kiss her mom and then head straight to the kitchen, where she would drink a big bottle of ice-cold milk from the refrigerator.
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