INTRODUCTION

In debates concerning the U.S. military’s ban on the open service of sexual minorities, critics and proponents alike have used the integration of African Americans after World War II in defense of their position. Critics of the ban suggest that both groups have faced similar stigmatization as disparaged minorities, and the success of military integration for African Americans in spite of an absence of civilian support indicates that effective inclusion is possible for gays and lesbians as well. However, for proponents of the ban, perceived differences in the causes of stigmatization and the specific circumstances surrounding Truman’s mandate underline the inappropriateness of removing restrictions against sexual minorities.[1] Because analogies by their nature break down at some point, it is instructive instead to look more broadly at the history of the U.S. military for clues about how to properly contextualize the present debate. The extensive focus on post-war desegregation in some sense overshadows the multiplicity of challenges that the U.S. armed forces has historically faced in managing and attenuating broad socio-cultural differences. While racism against African Americans has been the deepest and most repeated challenge to the U.S. military, we should not underestimate the magnitude of prior struggles and divisions that have created considerable organizational challenges for military leaders.

From this country’s inception, its armed forces has had to create effective and cohesive fighting units from a fractious and heterogeneous population. Successive large waves of European immigrants resulted in military units with mixed English proficiency; the loyalty of immigrants during times of war has repeatedly been a source of considerable anxiety; and the inclusion of racial and religious minorities in the military has occurred against a wider social backdrop of ethnic hostility, harassment and violence.[2] From a more expansive historical perspective, it is clear that the U.S. military has repeatedly been forced to attenuate the divisions, antagonisms and distrust that have troubled American culture more broadly. This necessity has stemmed from the unique position of the armed forces as both a defensive and a “total” institution in American civic life. Military service in defense of the nation has historically been viewed as an essential means for immigrants and other ethnic minorities to prove their loyalty to the U.S. and gain entry into the American mainstream. Drafts that include newly naturalized citizens (as well as those who have declared their intent to become citizens) and high rates of volunteer enlistments among ethnic minorities have led to a military that draws upon service members from a wide variety of racial, religious and national backgrounds. Further, the encompassing nature of the military environment is transformative: in working to mold civilians into soldiers, the military strives to forge a shared sense of purpose and inculcate service members with collective values, norms and culture in the pursuit of common goals.

As with civil society, accommodations of diversity and difference within the military have not occurred without substantial contention, suspicion and even outright hostility. Each war has required adaptation to a distinct combination of manpower needs, enemy characteristics, and broad societal divisions; personnel lessons learned during one war are often discarded once the danger has passed. But two mechanisms have fostered integrative pressures in the U.S. armed forces in spite of ethnic divisions and an often antagonistic military culture. First, the military’s subordinate position to the federal government has necessitated a responsiveness to social pressures for inclusion. The president, Congress and civilian Pentagon leaders have at times officially mandated greater military inclusiveness, and such mandates have often occurred as part of larger efforts to employ war as a means to attain political ends. Demands for greater diversity have been promoted to counteract enemy propaganda, in response to social movement agitation, and in conjunction with larger public policy goals.

Second, manpower shortages due to the mobilization of large forces have propelled military leaders to create a more diverse, inclusive military in times of war. The use of the draft inevitably fosters a more heterogeneous service than a volunteer army. Further, as wars progress, military officers have often been forced to overturn conventions of exclusion or division as a result of the pragmatic logic of numbers. Battlefield attrition has encouraged greater integration of previously segregated or underutilized troops as commanders respond creatively to manpower shortages. The history of the U.S. military attests to its success in overcoming skepticism and suspicion within its own ranks when compelled to do so by political mandate or practical dictates. Despite repeated resistance, the U.S. military has throughout its history created cohesive and effective fighting units out of a fractious and diverse collection of civilians, integrating service members with vast differences in cultural background, religious practices, language and belief systems. In an effort to detail these lessons of successful integration of diverse military personnel, this paper will explore the U.S. armed forces’ personnel policies during the major periods of the Civil War, World War I, World War II, and the Korean and Vietnam Wars.

THE CIVIL WAR

The Civil War marked a decisive turning point in the development of the young nation; it forged a country ruled by a more powerful federal government out of the ashes of the old collection of states.[3] By the end of the war, after four years of fighting and with casualty rates that approached 30%, service members and civilians alike would find themselves transformed by the dislocations that the war had wrought (World Almanac, 2000).[4] For many, the war took them out of their home states for the first time. The geographic mobility of soldiers worked to lessen their provincialism, and the ethnic diversity of front-line troops would further dampen nativist instincts. It would primarily be a war of volunteers,[5] and the entrepreneurial nature of regiment formation in the early years of the war profoundly shaped both the composition of troops and accommodations to their diversity. The first modern war on U.S. soil[6] brought the incorporation of large numbers of immigrant soldiers, acceptance of the idea of religious pluralism within the military, and the highly visible use of African American troops. Social protest would play a key role in the acceptance of Jewish chaplains in the Union Army. African American inclusion would be promoted by Republican abolitionists for political reasons and encouraged by the on-the-ground realities of the deadly war. And the question of whether former slaves could become competent soldiers would be answered strongly in the affirmative. In the face of devastating losses, even Confederates would be forced to concede the capabilities of black soldiers by the end of the conflict.

Prior to the onset of the war, immigration had already radically transformed the social landscape of the U.S. Between 1820 and 1860, over 5 million immigrants landed on America’s shores – a sum that equaled fully half of the entire U.S. population before the migration wave had begun (Parillo, 1997; Barkan, 1999). Irish and Germans accounted for the largest number of immigrants, with the Irish alone comprising 49% of all immigrants in the 1840s (Parrillo, 1997; see also Bergquist, 1999). This surge of immigration would lead to a bitter nativist backlash. For many native-born Americans, the large influx of immigrants posed a threat to the existing social order, and by the 1830s a “native” American uprising began to coalesce. Advocating violence and destruction of the property of Irish, Germans and African Americans, these outbursts would develop into the Know-Nothing Movement of the 1850s. The movement was sufficiently popular to result in the election of 75 Congress members allied with the movement in 1854, along with a sizeable number of city, county and state officials (Parrillo, 1997).[7] Closely linked to anti-Catholicism, anti-Irish sentiment was particularly strong, and mobs at times torched Catholic churches and convents (Parrillo, 1997; see also Wittke, 1956; Gleeson, 2001; Ignatiev, 1995). Nativists would “speak of the Irish as a separate race, genetically fixed in their ignorance and moral dissolution” (Meagher, 1999, p. 284). They occupied the bottom rung of the employment ladder, and nativism within unions was rampant (Takaki, 1993, Ignatiev, 1995). In response, immigrants in urban communities established ethnic enclaves and sought political access through machine politics. The Democratic party would reject nativism in support of ethnic voters (Ignatiev, 1995). The ethnic identity of national origins, which was understood at the time in racial terms, provided a filter through which Americans made sense of U.S. social life and its divisions.

Against this backdrop of ethic transformation and the rapid absorption of foreign nationals, the Civil War would pit old and new countrymen against countrymen, and it was in the Union Army that foreign nationals maintained a decisive presence.[8] The Union Army has been called “an amalgam of nations” (Wittke, 1956, p. 135) – out of a total of 2.2 million Union soldiers that served during the war, more than 400,000 of them were foreign-born (Wittke, 1956).[9] Immigrants as a whole responded positively to the Union response to secessionist upheaval, and the foreign-born of every nationality enlisted in proportions that exceeded their relative numbers in the population at large (Rippley, 1976; see also White, 1990).[10] The harassment and discrimination that the Irish faced in civilian life did not preclude their enlistment as soldiers. The Union Army went to considerable lengths to attract Irish immigrants in particular, including enrolling eligible men as soon as they disembarked onto American shores. The Union even sent recruiters to Ireland, and the Confederate Army countered by sending special envoys to Ireland to stop the recruiting. The centrality of Irish immigrants would be commented upon in The New York Times in the early stages of the war:

…[W]hile the alacrity with which [the Irish] have rushed to the defense of free institutions, and the valor with which they have illustrated our battles, have done much to extinguish ancient prejudices and teach us what genuine and noble human qualities underlie the surface-characteristics of the fine old Irish stock. (The New York Times, August 11 1861, p 3)

Prior to the war, immigrants in some areas had faced restrictions on their service in militias, and immigrants had formed their own militia companies in response (White, 1999).[11] Every major foreign-born group in America’s larger cities maintained distinct militia units, which were both social in nature and a component of ethnic political organizing. When the Civil War began, many of the ethnic militia companies were transferred directly into the Union Army, and new ethnic regiments were also established (see White, 1999; Burton, 1998; Wittke, 1956; and Kauffman, 1999).[12] The entrepreneurial approach to raising troops through volunteer militias in the first eighteen months of the war encouraged the emergence of ethnically oriented regiments, as potential regiment and company leaders used local networks, ethnic rivalries and rhetorical exhortations of nationalism to form military units with explicitly ethnic identities (Burton, 1998).[13] These included such units as the “Steuben Rifles,” “DeKalb Regiment,” “Ulster Guards,” “Irish Brigade,” “Wild Irish Regiment,” “Irish Rifles,” Corcoran’s “Fighting Irish,” “Cameron Highlanders,” “Garibaldi Guards,” “Swiss Rifles,” “Koerner Regiment,” “First German Rifles,” and “Die Neuner” (Wittke, 1956; Kauffman, 1999).[14]

While service in ethnic regiments stemmed largely from neighborhood or network affiliations, religion and language also played an important role. Among the Irish, ethnic units had access to Catholic priests rather than Protestant ministers (Burton, 1998). Further, such regiments enabled immigrants to serve in regiments dominated by languages other than English. When the War Department declared in July of 1861 that, “In the future, no volunteer will be mustered into the service who is unable to speak the English language,” (cited in Burton, 1998, p. 220) the order met with vehement opposition among immigrant communities and led to a dramatic curtailment of enlistment among the foreign-born. The War Department quickly backed down from its original stand with a clarification that the order did not apply to individuals serving in companies and regiments of foreigners (Burton, 1998). The volunteer nature of service at the outset of the war necessitated that leaders remain responsive to concerns that could dramatically curtail enlistments. Thirty German regiments, in which German was the primary language spoken, participated in the war (Rippley, 1976).

However, while ethnic units were highly visible during the first eighteen months of the Civil War, the majority of immigrants fought in integrated regiments.[15] Out of 216,000 Germans who fought for the Union, only 36,000 served in ethnic units (Kaufmann, 1999; Burton, 1998). Interestingly, New York State fielded the only regiment that was composed entirely of native-born Americans. As an expert on ethnic service has concluded on integrated units, “Problems of bias and prejudice were minimal and relations between the various groups were good” (Burton, 1998, p. 208). But the bloody toll of the war and the need for new bodies would encourage the diffusion and desegregation of even those who initially sought out ethnic units:

Long before the end of the Civil War, however, the many German units were scattered, regrouped, or reorganized out of existence, and in fact they were being reconstituted all along by incoming non-German recruits. […] Diffusion rendered it almost impossible to trace the performance of the Germans in later war records (Rippley, 1976, p. 70).

Saving regiments from destruction through attrition took priority over retaining an ethnic identity as the war proceeded, and unit identities were diluted through the replacement of casualties with native-born soldiers. In the last two years of the war, unique ethnic regiments “were reorganized out of existence” (Burton, 1998, p. 111).[16] That this would further help to foster a common American identity is evident in the words of Carl Shurtz, a German ethnic politician, who noted after the war that, “The German spirit fades away, and the American spirit triumphs” (Burton, 1998, p. 111).[17] Or as Civil War historian Hattaway (1997) explains more generally, “Brave deeds, and above all a shared military experience, bred a potent brotherly affinity” (p. 185).

As a result of greater heterogeneity within units and among the population more generally, the Civil War also marked a change from the Revolutionary War in the need to accommodate individuals from different religions. Because many service members enlisted in their hometowns and with people they knew, units often included multiple members of religious minorities. General Order Number 15 in 1861 provided for chaplains chosen by vote in volunteer regiments. The concentration of Catholics in ethnic regiments and the later segregation of African American troops also therefore promoted the inclusion of minority chaplains. The Civil War would mark the first time that large numbers of Catholic priests served as military chaplains (Slomovitz, 1999; see also U.S. Army Chaplain Center and School, 2003), and the first African American and Native American chaplains also served during the war (U.S. Army Chaplain Center and School, 2003; Brinsfield, 1999). By the end of the war, fourteen African American chaplains and forty Catholic priests served with the Union army. An additional 28 priests served with the Confederates (U.S. Army Chaplain Center and School, 2003; Redkey, 2002).

Congress initially mandated that chaplains for the Union be “regularly ordained ministers of some Christian denomination” (cited in U.S. Army Chaplain Center and School, 2003; see also Herspring, 2001; Budd, 2002). In contrast, the Confederate Congress made no distinction between religions and opened the service of chaplains to “every minister of religion” (cited in Rosen, 2000, p. 209).[18] A Jewish chaplain appointed by the 65^th Regiment of the Fifth Pennsylvania Calvary was told to resign due to his non-qualified status (Slomovitz, 1999; Herspring, 2001). In response, a broad-based movement in favor of the inclusion of Jewish chaplains on constitutional grounds supported the test case of the subsequent appointment of Rabbi Fischel to the same 65^th Regiment. The movement endeavored to obtain publicity, develop a petition campaign, and employ lobbying efforts, and it gained support from the popular press (Slomovitz, 1999). One editor of the Boston Clipper reminded his readers that a rabbi opened the congressional legislative session with prayer. He asked, “How was it that the same body could deny Jewish soldiers the right to share the prayers of the same clergyman?” (cited in Slomovitz, 1999, p. 16) As a result of these efforts, hundreds of petitions were sent to Congress, and Rabbi Fischel, backed by the Board of Delegates of American Israelites, lobbied the president directly for the inclusion of Jewish chaplains. Lincoln was receptive to his arguments,[19] and in July of 1862 the law limiting service to Christians was amended (Slomovitz, 1999; see also U.S. Army Chaplain Center and School, 2003). The first rabbis entered the chaplaincy through positions at military hospitals; two rabbis served as hospital chaplains during the war.[20] In April of 1863, a third rabbi began serving as the chaplain for the 54^th New York Volunteer Regiment (Slomovitz, 1999).[21]

Although African Americans had served during the American Revolution and the War of 1812, [22] their service during the Civil War was authorized only after considerable controversy in both the North and the South. The centrality of slavery to the conflict created political concerns over the use of African American troops. President Lincoln feared the loss of the border states over the issue, and the moral justification for slavery as the benevolent guardianship of an inferior people made black service a threat to the existing Southern social order. As Georgian Howell Cobb argued to the Confederate Secretary of War, “the day you make soldiers of them is the beginning of the end of the revolution. If slaves will make good soldiers our whole theory of slavery is wrong” (cited in Glatthaas, 1997, p. 203). A New York Times article listed the following reasons given by Union opponents to the use of African American soldiers:

1) That the negro will not fight. … 2) It is said that whites will not fight with them, - that the prejudice against them is so strong that our own citizens will not enlist, or will quit the service, if compelled to fight by their side, - and that we shall thus lose two white soldiers for every black one that we gain … 3) It is said we shall get no negroes – or not enough to prove of any service. … 4) The use of negroes will exasperate the South: and some of our Peace Democrats make that an objection to the measure. (New York Times, February 16 1863, p. 4)[23]

 

However, from the onset of hostilities, African Americans themselves would agitate for the opportunity to fight. Through the first fifteen months of the war, the War Department received a barrage of entreaties for the right to raise black troops or simply for people to fight themselves; editorials in newspapers with a black readership trumpeted the cause, and political leaders pressed for inclusion.

The importance of military service to an African American struggle for enfranchisement informed much of this political activity. As Frederick Douglass stated at the time, “…let [an African American] get an eagle on his button, and a musket on his shoulder and bullets in his pocket, there is no power on earth which can deny that he has earned the right to citizenship in the United States” (cited in Glatthaar, 1997, p. 211). But it would be with their feet that Southern slaves would create both the greatest pressure and the sharpest incentives for African American military service. The refusal of Major General Butler in May of 1861 to return escaped slaves under the fugitive slave laws was supported by the War Department; Butler put them to work instead as laborers for the Army. [24] In August, Congress passed the First Confiscation Act, which enabled federal officers to seize Confederate property, including slaves, to be used “in aid of the rebellion” (cited in Glatthaar, 1997, p. 204; see also Smith, 2002; Ramold, 2002). The trickle of African Americans to federal encampments soon became a flood,[25] and in July of 1862 Congress awarded freedom to all slaves entering federal lines and made them subject to the draft under the Second Confiscation Act (Smith, 2002). As Glatthaar (1997) notes, “By acting on their own behalf, slaves also challenged Federal authorities to reexamine their approach to the war. The unanticipated black response compelled Northern officials to adapt their policies to meet wartime exigencies” (p. 206; see also Glaathaar, 1990).

Congress also authorized the president to use African Americans in any military service “for which they may be found competent,” and Lincoln used the opportunity of the final[26] Emancipation Proclamation to authorize the general enlistment of black troops in 1863 (Glatthaar, 1997, p. 210; Smith, 2002).[27] Approximately 179,000 African Americans served in segregated units as combat soldiers in the Civil War, and another 20,000 held noncombatant positions. African American soldiers comprised approximately one-tenth of total Union Army forces, while black sailors accounted for approximately 16% of total naval strength[28] (Ramold, 20002; Smith, 2002; see also Walker, 1999; and Young, 1982).[29] Further, 200,000 additional African Americans labored for the Union in other capacities (Walker, 1999; Young, 1982; Glaathaar, 1997; Hattaway, 1997). African American service members participated in 41 major battles and 449 smaller engagements during the Civil War. Higgenson, the Colonel of the 1^st South Carolina Colored Volunteers, a unit comprised almost entirely of former slaves, describes the first time he commanded a mix of black and white regiments on regular military duty. While he was originally concerned about mishaps, he explains:

It is almost impossible for us now to remember in what a delicate balance then hung the whole question of negro enlistments, and consequently of Slavery. Fortunately, for my own serenity, I had great faith in the intrinsic power of military discipline, and also knew that a common service would soon produce mutual respect among good soldiers; and so it proved. (Higgenson, 1870, p. 123)

Twenty-three African American service members would win the Congressional Medal of Honor for their efforts during the war (Office of the Deputy Assistant Secretary of Defense for Civilian Personnel Policy/Equal Opportunity, 1991; U.S. Army, 2003).[30][31]

The effective, albeit delayed, use of African Americans in the military conflict dealt a harsh blow to the Confederate states. African American soldiers replenished depleted troop strength in the Union military, deprived the Confederacy of needed labor as slaves deserted to Federal lines, and contributed to Southern demoralization by overturning the established racial order. By early 1864, a small number of high-ranking Confederate officers began to view continued slavery as one the South’s primary sources of military weakness. In addition to the diminishment of essential labor power as a result of Union actions, continued support of slavery precluded desperately needed assistance from European nations. While these Confederate officers advocated the arming of African Americans for use as Confederate soldiers, Confederate law at the time precluded black military service (Glatthaar, 1997; see also Smith, 2002). As the situation grew desperate, the Confederate Congress passed legislation allowing for the service of African Americans.[32] However, the war ended before the Confederate Army could raise African American troops for combat (see Glatthaar, 1997; Young, 1982).

WORLD WAR I

When the U.S. finally entered World War I in April of 1917, its military consisted of a small force of 500,000 (Cooke, 1999).[33] Both the desperate need for assistance at the front lines and President Wilson’s desire to use U.S. military power to enable him to help shape the peace led to rapid mobilization and a dramatic increase in the size of the armed forces (see Weigley, 1999).[34] In May of 1917, Congress passed the Selective Draft Act, which established mandatory conscription, and by the war’s end eighteen months later, the armed forces totaled more than 3.5 million service members.[35] The rapid incorporation of new service personnel forced military leaders to address issues such as the assimilation of large numbers of immigrant soldiers, the professionalization of religious support, and the acceptance of Native American service members. They would successfully handle such concerns despite deeply divisive pre-existing ethnic antagonisms that were exacerbated by “Americanization” campaigns among the civilian population during the war. The U.S. armed forces made a crucial contribution to the defeat of the German army, and in the process it established itself as a truly modern military organization that would emerge as a 20^th century global power.

Prior to the war, the U.S. experienced the largest influx of immigrants in its history – the period between 1880 and 1920 ushered 23 million immigrants into the U.S. This wave would draw much more heavily from Southern and Eastern Europe than the previous surge, with approximately 9 million immigrants entering the U.S. from these areas (Enloe, 1980; Ford, 2001; and Barkan, 1999).[36] More than four million Italians and three million Russian immigrants arrived in the U.S. during this period, and approximately 43% of the Russian immigrants were Jewish (Parrillo, 1997; Barkan, 1999).[37] By 1917, the Jewish population in the U.S. had grown to nearly 3.5 million (Fredman and Falk, 1942; see also Shapiro, 1999).

In the years leading up to the war, anti-immigration attitudes once again festered and found expression in the “Americanization” movement (Parrillo, 1997). Anti-Irish sentiment was attenuated by the hostility directed at more recent immigrants, which was legitimated through racialized discourse of the inherent biological superiority of lighter skin and hair.[38] Italians were perceived to have criminal tendencies and be prone to violence (Sensi-Isolani, 1999). “Italians were ‘swarthy’ … and to the eyes of Americans they bore other physical signs of degradation, such as low foreheads” (Alba, 1985, p. 67). In 1911, a former Army Chief of Staff organized the Guardians of Liberty in upstate New York; it was dedicated to keeping Catholics out of office “because they would supposedly take their order from Rome” (Parillo, 1997, p. 447). An anti-Catholic magazine, The Menace, attracted over 5.1 million readers, and a total of 61 anti-Catholic periodicals were in circulation prior to World War I (Parrillo, 1997). Anti-Semitism also became firmly established in mainstream American civilian life. In the early 20th century, newspapers and magazines ran anti-Semitic cartoons and editorials. Life magazine writers called New York City “‘Jew York’ and attacked the ostensible Jewish clannishness, pushiness, and domination of the theater…” (Parillo, 1997, p. 451). Inter-ethnic and inter-religious marriages were rare, as were joint organizational activities (Parrillo, 1997). Responding in part to inter-group tensions, immigrants formed separate ethnic communities, establishing their own churches and synagogues, schools, and community and assistance organizations (Parrillo, 1997).

At the turn of the century, the Army began to transform itself to prepare for the possibility of external conflict and an increased U.S. presence abroad. An Army War College was established, officer education was improved, and the regular forces increased four-fold (Abrahamson, 1999). The Army began to employ managerial leadership practices to promote the establishment of a military organization with rationalized personnel policies. Using newly popularized “scientific management” techniques, leaders sought to create an efficient military bureaucracy out of the more informal organization that preceded it (Ford, 2001, p. 8). Military leaders recruited civilian reformers from the Progressive movement to assist in these efforts, thereby facilitating the rapid growth of a new civilian-military culture (Ford, 2001). Professionalizing developments notwithstanding, military education for officers in the period preceding the war reflected some of the most reactionary elements of the popular discourse on race and immigration. Teachers at West Point preached the racial superiority of the “Nordic race” of northern Europeans and promoted the belief in the “harsh and cruel struggle for survival through racial conquest and domination” of Social Darwinism (Bendersky, 2000, pp. 25-26). Faculty lectured against the amalgamation of “superior” and “inferior” races, for whom “extinction not absorption is the ultimate fate” (Bendersky, 2000, p. 26). Military leaders also expressed doubt about the loyalty of Jews and their willingness to assimilate (Bendersky, 2000).

With the onset of World War I, nativist and racist prejudices were further fueled by antagonism towards German immigrants and their descendents, since Germany was now classified as a state enemy.[39] Considerable skepticism concerning the war’s aims and isolationism among U.S. residents at the outset also led to a second pro-war mobilization on the home front, as the administration attempted to foster public support through the establishment of the first governmental propaganda office (Schaffer, 1999; Nagler, 1999).[40] [41] The propaganda efforts would spiral out of control, leading to a domestic climate that Higham describes as “call[ing] forth the most strenuous nationalism and the most pervasive nativism that the United States had ever known” (cited in Nagler, 1993, p. 191). Prior to U.S. involvement in the war, many domestic German-language papers had espoused the German cause, arguing that the imperial power of Great Britain was more threatening than German action (Bergquist, 1999; see also Wittke, 1936). Even though the vast majority of German-language periodicals immediately pledged support when the U.S. entered the war, German Americans quickly became targets of harassment, business boycotts, violence, and vandalism (Bergquist, 1999; Luebke, 1990).[42][43] State Councils of Defense banned the use of German language in public places and changed German-named street signs. German books and German-language newspapers were burned in multiple cities (Rippley, 1976; see also Nagler, 1997; (Luebke, 1990).[44] In efforts to prove their loyalty to the U.S., many German citizens and businesses anglicized their names and distanced themselves from their cultural institutions and organizations (Luebke, 1990).[45]

However, the demands of war would quickly challenge the generalized anti-immigrant sentiment in the services, as the demand for service members necessitated the broad use of the foreign-born. Unlike during the Civil War, the government recruited most soldiers for the American Expeditionary Forces (AEF) through the draft.[46] This would result in the conscription of a diverse cross-section of American men that included large numbers of immigrants and other ethnic minorities. The military placed Americans from a variety of ethnic and religious backgrounds, as well as a number of foreign-born soldiers, into integrated units during World War I. Brigadier General Harvey Jervey would explain that, "It is not the policy of the United States Army to encourage or permit the formation of distinctive brigades, regiments, battalions or other organizations composed exclusively or primarily of members of any race, creed, political or social group" (cited in Canaday, 2001). A French solder in 1917 described the heterogeneous character of American troops in Europe:

You could not imagine a more extraordinary gathering than this american [sic] army, there is a little bit of everything, Greeks, Italians, Turks, Indians, Spanish, also a sizable number of boches.^[47] Truthfully, almost half of the officers have German origins. This doesn’t seem to bother them… Among the Americans are sons of emigrated Frenchmen and sons of emigrated boches. I asked one son of a Frenchman if these Germans were coming willingly to fight their brothers and cousins, he squarely answered me: ‘yes!’” (cited in Ford, 2001, p. 3)

With the Selective Draft Act (40 Stat. 76) of May 1917, Congress expanded the draft to include non-enemy residents who were not naturalized but who had declared their intent to become citizens (Enloe, 1980; Cooke, 1999).[48][49] The General Staff estimated that one-fourth of the draftees were either non-English-speaking immigrants or functionally illiterate (White, 1999). Almost 500,000 immigrants would be inducted during World War I, and as many as 75% of them lacked English proficiency (Ford, 2001). However, given the political debates about the draft, naturalized citizens and declared immigrants were expected to serve regardless of language skill. This provided the military with a considerable organizational dilemma given the need to train soldiers quickly for relocation to Europe, and many immigrants initially proved unable to effectively respond to training commands. The military responded by establishing the Foreign-speaking Soldier Subsection (FSS) (Ford, 2001).

While the FSS was established under the Military Intelligence Section for the purpose of handling alien service members, the unit would soon be reorganized under the Military Morale Section to focus on improving the quality of life of foreign-born soldiers more generally. Leaders of the FSS embraced the attitudes of the Progressive movement toward the inclusion of immigrants and worked to adapt military training to better suit immigrants’ needs. The agency helped to create “development” battalions for those without a strong command of English. Training in these battalions included drills in soldiers’ native languages, as well as intensive English classes. The battalions were grouped according to native language, and the army sent promising bilingual or multilingual soldiers to Officers’ Training School so that they could lead the training battalions.[50] The program was such a success that the Italian and Slovak companies at Camp Gordon, which included men that had previously been deemed unfit for combat, exhibited the highest fitness reports in the camp (Ford, 2001). The War Department applauded the “extraordinary” effectiveness of the program, and troops were trained within a six week period to make them “valuable fighting units” (cited in Ford, 2001, pp. 85 and 80).

Once training was complete, immigrants from the development battalions were divided by platoon and sent as replacement troops to the front, preferably with officers from their battalion. While the use of development battalions was driven by the need for efficiency in the creation of an effective fighting force, the division of these groups into platoons stemmed both from a recognition of the negative consequences of isolation for individuals immersed in English-only units and a desire to exert an “Americanizing” influence on recent immigrants.[51] It was believed that sending over larger ethnic battalions would encourage groups to associate only amongst themselves and would erode newly-acquired language skills. Conversely, in the language of a military report on development battalions, an ethnic platoon would act as a “colony” within the larger “melting pot” of the company; they would provide a “foundation” for “Americanization,” while “keep[ing] up [the immigrants’] morale much better than if put among people of entirely different customs” (cited in Ford, 2001, p. 87).[52] Ford (2001) contrasts the nativistism rampant in U.S. civic culture with these efforts by the military:

This new influx of Old World soldiers challenged the cultural, linguistic, and religious traditions of the American Army and forced the military to reexamine its training procedures. The military invited Progressive reformers and leaders of various ethnic groups to assist them in formulating new military policies. As a result, these policies demonstrated a remarkable sensitivity and respect for Old World cultures while laying the foundations for the Americanization of these immigrant soldiers. (Ford, 2001, p. 1)

The U.S. armed forces also coordinated actions with civic social welfare, religious and ethic organizations to facilitate the integration of immigrant soldiers into military life. These efforts were part of broader organizational attempts “designed to socialize and ‘morally uplift’ the soldiers to create an effective military” (Ford, 2001, p. 10). In conjunction with the War Department’s Commission on Training Camp Activities, organizations such as the YMCA,[53] the Salvation Army,[54] the Knights of Columbus and the Jewish Welfare Board established recreational social facilities on military bases. With the help of thousands of social welfare workers, such organizations helped run English, civics and citizenship classes for immigrant service members. They provided books, athletic equipment, music, theater and other entertainment to service members, as well as the services of clergy members and places for religious worship. Ethnic community leaders offered foreign-language newspapers to immigrant service personnel and helped translate war materials and hygiene literature. The YWCA also employed “international hostesses” that could speak the languages of immigrant troops. These secretaries acted as facilitators and counselors in helping foreign soldiers with family and other adjustment problems (Ford, 2001; Budd, 2002; Slomovitz, 1999).

Unlike the voluntarism of the Civil War, the rapid formation of regiments through the military bureaucracy required a more professionalized approach to the appointment of chaplains during World War I. The needs of soldiers during the war would lead to the institutionalization of the chaplaincy within the military for the first time, and a May 1917 act mandated the inclusion of one chaplain per regiment and one chaplain per 1,200 soldiers in coast artillery. The number of chaplains increased five-fold in the Navy and 1500% in the Army during the war (Budd, 2002).[55] The Army established a chaplains’ school at Fort Monroe with five weeks of training that focused on how to minister and function in a military environment (Budd, 2002). The military officially acknowledged the religious diversity of its service personnel and worked to provide access to a wide variety of religious materials and support staff. A Staff Chaplain’s Office was established overseas with Episcopalian, Catholic and Congregationalist leaders. Three umbrella organizations representing the three main religious branches - The Jewish Welfare Board, The National Catholic War Council and the Federal Council of the Churches of Christ in America – coordinated with the War Department to meet the religious needs of service members. They helped screen and nominate candidates for chaplain, supplied religious items for military personnel, trained civilians for work on military bases and provided religious support (Budd, 2002).[56]

While religious animosity was a staple of civilian life, it did not cause insurmountable problems for the army or its developing chaplaincy. Catholics accounted for approximately 42% of all military personnel, while Jews comprised nearly 6%.[57] Jewish chaplains had not served in the peacetime army, in part because the military argued that there were insufficient numbers of Jewish soldiers.[58] But the large number of Jewish service members enlisted through the draft led to a reconsideration of the policy and the inclusion of Jewish chaplains. Twenty-five rabbis served in active duty during the war, and Chaplain Voorsanger, known as the “Fighting Rabbi,” would be promoted to senior chaplain of the 77^th Infantry Division (Slomovitz, 1999; see also Fredman and Falk, 1942; Corby, 1992). Soldiers would not be segregated according to their religion, and chaplains in the field were expected to help soldiers of all religious faiths (Franklin, 2001; Ford, 2001). Rabbi Lee Levinger wrote of the experience of a military rabbi during the war:

He was first of all a Chaplain in the United States Army and second a representative of his own religious body. That means that all welfare work or personal service was rendered equally to men of any faith… Wherever I went I was called upon by Jew and non-Jew alike, for in the service most men took their troubles to the nearest chaplain irrespective of his religion. (cited in Slomovitz, 1999, pp. 55-6)

Unlike African Americans, who continued to serve in segregated units,[59] Native Americans would also be fully integrated into the U.S. military during the war. Despite calls to create separate Indian units to preserve Native American culture and promote the distinct “cult of the warrior”(cited in Britten, 1997, p. 39), the War Department expressed a commitment to the assimilation of Native Americans that was the official policy of the federal government through the Bureau of Indian Affairs.[60] From the classification of Native Americans as wards of the state in 1871, federal officials had become convinced that the key way to resolve the perceived “Indian problem” of continued primary tribal affiliation was through the eradication of distinct tribal cultures. This attitude would be maintained in the deployment of Native American service members:

 

…[O]n the eve of World War I the Chief of the War College Division of the General Staff stated that anything that ‘inclines them to think in Indian terms only and to hold themselves as a class apart with interests distinct from those of other citizens is undesirable and contrary to the object of the institution and to the best interests of the United States’” (White, 1990, p. 78; see also Britten, 1997).[61]

 

While the social motivation behind the military response to Native American inclusion may be questioned, their war service helped to alter popular conceptions to include Native Americans as participants in American life. More than 6,500 Native Americans were drafted and an additional 3,500 enlisted. Approximately 20% of the entire adult Native American male population served in World War I, even though up to one-third were not U.S. citizens at the onset of World War I (Britten, 1997; see also Holm, 1996).[62][63] The Provost General would note that “the ratio of Indian registrants inducted was twice as high as the average of all registrants” (cited in Britten, 1997, p. 59). Native Americans fought in every major offense in the war involving Americans, from Chateau Thierry to Meuse-Argonne, and their participation was often glorified in the national media. As Britten (1997) explains, “Through service in the war, Indian soldiers demonstrated a degree of patriotism and loyalty that surprised many non-Indians” (p. 51). In the last two months of the war, unit commanders began using the special language skills of Native Americans to facilitate protected communications. Multiple units used Choctaw, Osage, Comanche, Cheyenne and Sioux soldiers to transmit messages in their native languages (Britten, 1997; Holm, 1996). At least ten Native Americans won the Croix de Guerre for valor, and 150 other soldiers were decorated for meritorious service (Britten, 1997). Citizenship was conferred on Indian veterans in 1919, and their efforts in the war contributed to the granting of U.S. citizenship to all Native Americans in 1924 (Bernstein, 1991; Holm, 1996).[64] 

WORLD WAR II

While ethnic divisions based on nationality would recede from the levels of hysteria experienced during World War I, racial antagonisms would come to the fore during the Second World War. The threat to the country’s safety evidenced by the attack on Pearl Harbor fomented fears concerning the loyalty of “enemy” aliens and found expression in the internment of those with Japanese heritage. Questions concerning the martial abilities and military divisiveness of African American soldiers would once again be raised, as would doubts about the faithfulness and reliability of Japanese American and Native American service members. But while the unprecedented scale of war mobilization would heighten such concerns, it would also provide powerful evidence that fears concerning the inclusion and loyalty of racial minorities were misplaced. Japanese Americans contributed one of the most effective fighting units of the war, despite experiencing widespread and virulent racism; Native Americans once again enlisted in record numbers; and limited experiments with African American desegregation in the Army and Navy proved successful. The war period would come to reflect divisions within society more generally, as demographic changes and pressures for greater inclusiveness vied with anxieties over loyalty, safety and fighting effectiveness. The successful war mobilization both increased opportunities for racial minorities and laid the groundwork for the broader struggles for full equality that would follow in the coming decades.

Prior to the war, the racialized discourse of the military colleges fostered an admiration for German military and civilian culture, as well as a belief in the scientific justification for racial hierarchies (Bendersky, 2000, p. 267). As Bendersky (2000) explains, a racialized worldview legitimated by a scientific imprimatur continued to characterize officer education through the 1930s, even though such theories had fallen out of favor among the social science mainstream:

As in WWI, such officers looked askance upon the large percentage of ethnics, recent immigrants as well as second generation as the country mobilized its manpower for war. Where did their loyalties lie? Would they fight? What would be the impact on unit cohesion and effectiveness of the very presence of these heterogeneous groups? (p. 295)

Once the war commenced, however, the officers’ culture of racial hegemony would be opposed by the more liberal ethos of administration officials and the ethnic diversity of draft inductees. The Roosevelt Administration worked on multiple fronts to encourage a more inclusive military. The War Department would oppose the racist ideology of military commanders, instructing officers that “effective command cannot be based upon racial theories” (cited in Bendersky, 2000, p. 300). It further characterized Nazi theories of inferior and superior races as “nonsense” (cited in Bendersky, 2000, p. 300).

In September 1940, the first peacetime draft in American history was established in preparation for possible U.S. participation in the war.[65] The original language for the Selective Service Act would have enabled the president to assign African Americans throughout the Army and induct them in unrestricted numbers. However, the Secretary of War requested that Congress amend the language. The resulting compromise maintained segregated service for African Americans but prohibited explicit racial discrimination against military volunteers and draftees. The legislation stated that, “any person, regardless of race or color, between the ages of 18 and 36, shall be afforded an opportunity to volunteer for induction in to the land or naval forces” (cited in Moore, 1999, pp. 131-2; see also Morehouse, 2000; Nalty and MacGregor, 1981).[66] To meet the requirements of the legislation, the military was expected to induct African Americans in percentages proportionate to their numbers in the general population and to provide opportunities for service in all of the military specialties (Patterson, 1940; Nalty and MacGregor, 1981). While the language of the Selective Service Act was specifically written to promote the service of African Americans, it would affect the treatment of other ethnic minorities in the military as well.

With the bombing of Pearl Harbor, the status of Japanese Americans rapidly deteriorated. They became an ambiguous racial category, and all Japanese Americans were classified as enemy aliens (Moore, 1999). More than 110,000 Japanese Americans, many of whom were second or third-generation Americans, were ordered to leave the West Coast and placed in internment camps by the War Relocation Authority.[67] The call for internment occurred even though there had been no acts of Japanese American sabotage and no evidence of saboteurs, and two-thirds of the Japanese residents interned were American citizens (Cashman, 1989; Takaki, 1998; Tateishi, 1984; see also The New York Times, August 16 1942 and Tamura, 1999). The evacuation resulted in financial ruin for many of these families; mortgages were foreclosed, they were forced to sell property at bargain prices, and they lost their savings and their jobs (Parrillo, 1997; Takaki, 2000; Tamura, 1999).[68] The Los Angeles Times opined that, “a viper is nonetheless a viper wherever the egg is hatched – so a Japanese American, born of Japanese parents – grows up to be a Japanese, not an American” (cited in Takaki, 2000: 145-146). The relocation and internment occurred even though the Office of Naval Intelligence found that there was no security need for the mass internment of Japanese Americans. [69] Almost all of the suspected German, Italian and Japanese residents had already been taken into custody, and “the proposed mass evacuation of the Japanese for security reasons could not be justified” (cited in Takakai, 2000, pp. 144-145; see also Tateishi, 1984).[70] FBI Director Hoover argued as well that the internment could not be defended on security grounds and concluded that the claim of military necessity was based “primarily upon public and political pressure rather than factual data” (cited in Takaki, 1993, p. 380).

Prior to the war, the military had maintained a two-tiered racial classification system in which Asian service members were classified as Caucasian and served in units comprised predominately of white Americans (Moore, 1999). In the wake of Pearl Harbor, the classification of all Japanese Americans as enemy aliens precluded their service in the military, and the military stopped inducting Japanese Americans in March of 1942 (see Tamura, 1999; PBS Hawaii, 2003). Because the draft had been instituted before the onset of hostilities, however, the Draft Act’s anti-discrimination provision applied to Japanese Americans who had already been drafted. In Hawaii, 1,500 of the 3,000 residents drafted since 1940 were of Japanese descent; in total, 4,000 Japanese Americans served in the armed forces during the period of military exclusion (Duus, 1987; and Tamura, 1999). When Japanese American citizens were classified as enemy aliens, the Japanese American Citizens League (JACL) began agitating to allow Japanese Americans who were not already in the armed forces to volunteer for the war effort. Writing about Japanese Americans in Hawaii, Duus declares, “The nisei[71] students knew that if they did not make clear that they were willing to fight, their position would be very difficult after the war” (1987, p. 51; see also Crost, 1994). In May of 1942, those Japanese Americans serving in the 298^th and 299^th Hawaiian National Guard regiments were separated out into the Hawaiian Provisional Infantry Battalion, renamed the 100^th Battalion and trained for 16 months at Camp McCoy in Wisconsin and Camp Shelby in Mississippi while the military determined what to do with them (Duus, 1987; Hawaii Nikkei History Editorial Board, 1998).[72]

The battle over the full inclusion of Japanese American citizens into the military would pit civilian leaders against military officers, and military officers against each other. In June of 1942, the Secretary of War sent the director of the National Selective Service System a memo indicating that, with the exception of intelligence work,[73] “…the War Department will not accept for service with the armed forces Japanese, or persons of Japanese extraction, regardless of citizenship status or other factors” (cited in Cashman, 1989, p. 54). One month later, an army staff committee, upon receiving conflicting advice from military leaders, determined that the loyalty of Japanese Americans could not be assured and that they were distrusted by others; the committee therefore opposed the inclusion of Japanese Americans into the Army (Duus, 1987).[74] However, leaders of the Japanese American Citizens League continued to press for the inclusion of Japanese American volunteers, and American Civil Liberties Union chapters began sending protests to the War Department (Duus, 1987). Roosevelt asked for a review of the policy, and both the head of the Office of War Information and the Chief of Staff recommended their inclusion for reasons of overarching support to the war effort. The head of the Office of War Information pointed out that Japan had used internment in its propaganda campaign and was calling the war a racial war caused by racial discrimination. Both he and the Chief of Staff concurred that the inclusion of Japanese American troops would help to offset Japanese propaganda and improve America’s image with its allies (Duus, 1987). As a result of pressures from the highest levels of the administration, the War Department capitulated. “The recommendations the staff committee had presented a month before were completely overturned,” and a plan was instituted to form a new Japanese American regiment with the 100^th Battalion at its core (Duus, 1987, p. 57).

In calling for volunteers to the new regiment, Roosevelt stressed a non-racial vision of the country and of military service. He declared:

No loyal citizen of the United States should be denied the democratic right to exercise the responsibilities of citizenship, regardless of his ancestry. The principle on which this country was founded and by which it has always been governed is that Americanism is a matter of the mind and heart; Americanism is not, and never was, a matter of race or ancestry (cited in Duus, 1987, p. 58).

In Hawaii, where residents had not been interned, rates of volunteers quickly overwhelmed initial estimates. While the military had requested 1,500 volunteers, 10,000 Japanese Americans from Hawaii immediately volunteered. Conversely, rates among internees on the mainland were lower than anticipated; only 5% of men of draft age in internment camps volunteered for service. The large number of Hawaiian volunteers offset the smaller number from the mainland, and the 442^nd Regimental Combat Team was established (Duus, 1987; Tamura, 1999; Hawaii Nikkei History Editorial Board, 1998). In January of 1944, the Secretary of War extended the draft to include Japanese American citizens, including those in internment camps.[75] Three thousand six hundred Japanese Americans joined the Army as volunteers or draftees (Tamura, 1999).

In June of 1943, the 100^th Battalion was merged with the newly formed 442^nd Regimental Combat Team (Takaki, 2000; Tamura, 1999). The battalion was sent to North Africa and then to Europe where, during the invasion of Italy, 300 of the 1,400 men were killed and 650 were wounded. The battalion liberated Bruyeres and Biffontaine, rescued the “lost battalion” of the 141^st Infantry and drove the Germans from Italy (Siemieniec, June 5 2000). They became the most decorated unit of their size and length of service in U.S. Army history (Tamura, 1999; White, 1990, p. 253; Takaki, 2000’ Tateishi, 1984; Hawaii Nikkei History Editorial Board, 1998; Siemieniec, June 5 2000). The battalion earned 18,143 individual decorations – including one Congressional Medal of Honor, 7 Presidential Unit Citations, 560 Silver Stars, 4,000 Bronze stars, and 9,486 Purple Hearts (Siemieniec, June 5 2000).[76] The intelligence work of Japanese Americans serving under the Military Intelligence Service was also highly praised. General Charles Willoughby, Chief of Intelligence in the Pacific, “estimated that Japanese-American military contributions shortened the war by two years” (Takaki, 1993, p. 387). As Tamura (1999) posits, “The heroic efforts of Nisei soldiers during World War II transformed public sentiment toward Japanese Americans from hostility to admiration and their status from pariah to model citizen” (Tamura, 1999, p. 326).[77]

While Japanese Americans served in segregated units, Chinese-Americans did not: over 12,000 Chinese-Americans served in integrated units during World War II (Yung, 1999). Prior to the war, Chinese immigrants had faced virulent discrimination on the West Coast. Like Japanese immigrants, every aspect of their lives was restricted. They were prevented from working in the professions and trades; assigned segregated schools; refused service in public places; and prohibited from buying land, residing in white neighborhoods, and bringing their families into the U.S. (Yung, 1999). The war thus constituted a major turning point for Chinese-Americans, “providing them with unprecedented opportunities to improve their socioeconomic and political status and become full participants in an all-American war effort” (Yung, 1999, p. 127). In part, this opportunity would stem from governmental efforts to clearly differentiate between “enemy” aliens and immigrants from an allied nation. United States officials also sought to counter Japanese propaganda about anti-Asian racism in the U.S. (Cashman, 1989). Chinese-American community leaders quickly acted to take advantage of the more favorable political climate, forming the Citizens’ Committee to Repeal Chinese Exclusion to lobby Congress to overturn the law that forbade the naturalization of Chinese immigrants. The 1943 act allowed Chinese immigrants to become naturalized citizens, although it also introduced a restrictive yearly quota of 105 new immigrants (Cashman, 1989; see also Yung, 1999). Following the war, the War Brides Act enabled the wives and children of Chinese immigrants to enter the U.S. as non-quota immigrants (Yung, 1999).

As in World War I, the loyalty of Native Americans in a time of external threat would once again be called into question. In 1943, the Saturday Evening Post reported that a Nazi propaganda broadcast had “predicted an Indian uprising in the United States” should Native Americans be “asked to fight against the Axis” (cited in Holm, 1996, pp. 103-104). The Post reported that the broadcast asked, “How could the American Indians think of bearing arms for their exploiters?” (cited in Holm, 1996, p. 105). Since 1934, the Bureau of Indian Affairs had reversed its previous policies of forced assimilation. It allowed tribes to set up governments, established a revolving loan system, and ended the policy of trying to eradicate tribal cultures (Holm, 1996, p. 109). Nonetheless, formal and informal discrimination against American Indians persisted even as they joined fighting units in the war. Native Americans would serve in integrated units in the military at a time when they experienced intense housing discrimination, were forced to live in “Indian Ghettos,” received lower pay in defense industries than white co-workers, and faced discrimination in public accommodations (Takaki, 2000).

In spite of the severity of discrimination and mistreatment, Native American support for the war was impressive. Native Americans would eventually respond with a one hundred percent registration rate, “setting the standard for the rest of America” (Franco, 1990, p. 1). The Osages, Poncas, and Lakotas declared war independently on the Axis. More than twenty-five thousand Native Americans served during WWII – a higher percentage, per capita, than any other ethnic group (Holm, 1996). Native Americans drew particularly difficult assignments, frequently serving as scouts on long-range reconnaissance missions and in commando-type units. They were also heavily represented in infantry and marine divisions. The War Department continued its policy of avoiding separate units for Native Americans, with the exception of some training platoons (White, 1990).[78] The Marine Corps trained Navajo “Code Talkers” as communications specialists that sent messages pertaining to enemy troop movements in the Navajo language to evade enemy intelligence (Bernstein, 1991). [79] In response to concerns about language difficulties and culture shock, the military also allowed the establishment of several all-Indian training platoons to facilitate adjustment. Once soldiers’ command of English improved, they joined mixed regiments (Bernstein, 1991). In August of 1942, units at reception centers were authorized to teach minimal reading and vocabulary needed for military training, and Native American instructors taught non-English speaking Indians (White, 1990). The high rates of Native American enlistment would eventually lead the Saturday Evening Post editor to write, “We would not need the Selective Service if all volunteered like Indians” (cited in Takaki, 1993, p. 388).

The war would have a monumental effect on Native American life as tribes mobilized for the war effort. It has been estimated that by 1945, nearly 150,000 American Indians participated in the industrial, agricultural, and military aspects of the war, which constitutes more than half of the total Native American population. More than 40,000 left their home communities to work in war-related industries (Holm, 1996). For the first time, many earned decent wages. Average incomes among Native Americans increased by 250% between 1940 and 1944 (Bernstein, 1999). The resulting mobility of Native Americans during the war, for both military service and domestic defense-related work, fostered greater pan-Indian contact and increased interaction with the dominant culture. Among soldiers, wartime experiences promoted respect and ties of friendship between Native American and white soldiers:

Because [Indian and white] soldiers from different worlds shared essentially the same wartime experiences, they came to accept one another as equals and friends. One Indian prisoner of war recalled, ‘I would say that all of us who were in the Japanese prison camps and survived … were closer to each other than even our own brothers could be. The long days of suffering, starving and seeing our buddies die binds us together with bonds of steel’. (Bernstein, 1991: 58)

During the war, Native American soldiers received one Medal of Honor, 30 Distinguished Flying Crosses, and 70 Air Medals. Native American service members were awarded more than 200 medals and citations for meritorious performance (Takaki, 2000; Bernstein, 1991).

For African Americans, the right to fight in the war would constitute another battle in the long struggle for full participation in American life. Prior to the war, A. Philip Randolph[80] established the March-On-Washington Movement and threatened a mass march to protest discrimination against African Americans in the defense industry (see Sitkoff, 1997). In response, the president signed Executive Order 8802, making racial discrimination in defense industries illegal (see Nalty and MacGregor, 1981).[81] Once the war began, African American leaders viewed “military service as an exchange for first-class citizenship” and counseled African Americans to set aside grievances in support of the war (Moore, 1999, p. 133; Sitkoff, 1997). The “Double V” campaign promoted “Democracy at Home and Democracy Abroad,” arguing that active service in the war effort would enhance the status of African Americans at home (cited in Morehouse, 2000, p. 9). President Roosevelt pressured military leaders to include African Americans in all areas of military service, but the “separate but equal” compromise contained in the Selective Service Act created an awkward and unwieldy solution.

Military officials absolutely resisted calls for equal access to all military specialties, and the Army General Staff “warned that social experimentation could undermine the war effort” (Nalty and MacGregor, 1981, p. 103). However, the Secretary of War’s Commission on Negro Affairs pressured branches to accept black infantry and other combat units (Nalty and MavGregor, 1981). President Roosevelt was able to force Army Air Forces (AAF) to include African Americans in all-black air squadrons and non-combat units,[82][83] and he joined with Secretary of the Navy Knox to ask naval officials to prepare a plan for increased inclusion of African Americans (RAND, 1993).[84] The naval experience in particular underlined the supremacy of full inclusion over segregated service. By 1942, the Navy began to allow African Americans to serve in some of the general service positions at ammunition depots and ports, but they were not allowed to serve at sea. This division led to morale problems, as African Americans resented being confined to unskilled labor at the docks and white sailors resented the fact that the African Americans did not have to serve in combat zones (RAND, 1993).[85] The Navy established the Special Programs Unit in 1943 to study the problem, and it concluded that African American sailors should serve aboard twenty-five supply ships to determine the feasibility of a broader desegregation effort. Evaluations on naval supply ships from 1944 and 1945 under wartime conditions found high morale, good performance, and little incidence of racial friction (RAND, 1993, p. 173). The experiment was so effective that the Navy desegregated all supply ships in April of 1945 (RAND, 1993).

The Army engaged in a similar experiment of desegregation of African American troops out of military necessity. In the winter of 1944-1945, infantry troops based in Europe were so short-handed that Eisenhower reassigned black soldiers out of non-combat units and trained them as riflemen. [86] Forty-five hundred African Americans volunteered and twenty-five hundred were accepted for the assignment, serving as members of black platoons working with white platoons with the First and Seventh Army until the conclusion of the war with Germany. Field reports indicated that black platoons performed well and worked closely with whites in combat and garrison duties. The field reports revealed that “No incidents of racial violence or non-cooperation between white and black soldiers occurred in combat situations” (RAND, 1993, p. 174). Although occasional tensions did flare up in recreational situations, “… other reports pointed to examples of blacks and whites voluntarily sharing work assignments and participating on the same sports teams” (RAND, 1993, p. 174). In July of 1945, the Army surveyed 250 white officers and non-commissioned officers who had served with integrated companies during the war. Seventy-nine percent of officers and 60% of NCOs characterized race relations as good or very good in these units; 62% of officers and 89% of NCOs recommended the continued use of racially mixed companies. The survey further indicated that race relations were best in those companies that faced the heaviest combat. Successful performance under difficult circumstances improved cohesion in integrated companies (RAND, 1993).

Korea, Vietnam and Beyond

The Cold War era would be marked by efforts to contain communism through military engagement abroad and by the struggle for racial desegregation and full equality at home. The U.S. armed forces during this period operated at the intersection of these two broad endeavors, foreign and domestic. The military became the first federal organization to be officially desegregated under Truman’s executive order in 1948 (White, 1999a). However, initial antagonism and foot-dragging by military officials extended the actual process of integration, and complete desegregation would not occur until after the close of the Korean War. Army leaders in particular believed that the successful integration of combat units at the end of World War II provided insufficient data to warrant implementing desegregation policies without safeguards (see RAND, 1993). However, once again, manpower necessities would provide on-the-ground evidence of the benefits of integration, as shortages during the Korean War led to the successful integration of African Americans into previously segregated units. Evidence from the war finally proved definitive, and leaders from all branches of the armed forces came to accept that segregation was costly, inefficient and a waste of the talent and potential of its service members.

As with civilian society, the official embrace of desegregation in the military was not sufficient to ensure equal opportunities for African Americans and other racial minorities in job placement and career advancement; more work beyond desegregation remained to fulfill the promise of inclusion at all levels of the military. As the Vietnam War was fought, civilians and military personnel alike struggled over the unfulfilled promise of full equality. And as in U.S. culture more generally, the civil rights demands for African Americans would be taken up and extended by Latinos, Asian Americans and Native Americans in their own efforts to promote racial equality in the military. After the war’s conclusion, the armed forces would make supporting the needs of a ethnically diverse work force a high priority. The demands of attracting a skilled workforce for a voluntary army has heightened the importance of effectively addressing the challenges posed by increasing diversity in the armed forces. Debates have moved beyond questions of inclusion and exclusion to embrace the goal of parity in retention, promotion and military career opportunities. The U.S. military has been widely commended as a workplace leader for its active promotion of diversity and efforts to eradicate systematic discrimination within its ranks.

KOREA

In November 1947, A. Philip Randolph and Grant Reynolds, with the support of other prominent black civil rights leaders, founded the Committee Against Jim Crow in Military Service and Training. They developed a three-point plan for desegregating the military: 1) encourage young black men to refuse military registration; 2) retain lawyers to defend men against charges of draft evasion; and 3) establish a marketing campaign around the slogan, “Don’t Join a Jim Crow Army!” (Coleman, 2000, p. 11). The two leaders met with President Truman and testified before the Senate Armed Services Committee in March of 1948. Supported by the liberal wing of the Democratic Party, they pressed for Truman to desegregate the military. Truman responded with Executive Order 9981 in 1948, which mandated “equality of treatment and opportunity for all persons in the armed services without regard to race, color, religion or national origin (cited in Geselbracht, 2003).[87] While the executive order was aimed at African Americans, it would have profound effects for other minorities as well. In issuing the executive order, the president committed the armed forces to an ethos of ethnic integration at all levels (see Enloe, 1980).

Even before Truman issued his order, Navy and Air Force leaders had concluded that segregation imposed undue administrative burdens and decreased combat efficiency. Post-war evaluations of naval policies concluded that desegregation promoted smooth-functioning units, based on the successful integration of supply ships during World War II. In February of 1946, the Chief of the Bureau of Naval Personnel mandated the eradication of all racial restrictions in job assignments, housing and mess facilities. However, the Navy continued to maintain a ceiling on the number of African Americans who could serve (Mershon and Schlossman, 1998). The post-war Air Force contained one all-black tactical unit, the 332^nd Fighter Wing, which faced chronic shortages of pilots and specialists. It was viewed as cost-ineffective, and Air Force leaders considered integrating pilots into other units. A planning group was formed in 1948 to investigate this option, although many Air Force officials opposed the desegregation proposal; Truman’s 1948 order broke the stalemate (RAND, 1993). The Air Force moved in 1949 to screen all African American service members for re-assignment to formerly all-white units or discharge, although some African American units would be retained. The Acting Deputy Chief of Staff for Personnel reported that the first year of the program proceeded “rapidly, smoothly and virtually without incident,” and the success of the program created its own impetus for further integration (cited in MacGregor, 1981, p. 405). The initial integration attempt was closely monitored, and “the frequent progress reports that Air Force headquarters insisted upon revealed no serious incidents” (RAND, 1993, p. 169; MacGregor, 1981, p. 405). The naval desegregation process was complete by 1952.

In contrast to the leadership support within the Navy when Truman’s order was announced, the Army lacked an internal coalition that advocated integration. In response to the executive order, Army staff officers announced to the press that the policy did not officially preclude segregation. The Army Chief of Staff further reported that desegregation in the Army would occur only when it happened in American society more generally (Geselbracht, 2003). In March of 1949, the Secretary of the Army testified before the Fahy Committee[88] that the Army “was not an instrument for social evolution,” while the Secretaries of the Navy and Air Force pledged their support for integration at the same hearings (cited in Geselbracht, 2003). Over eight months, the Fahy Committee, which was in charge of overseeing the desegregation plans, struggled against the Army’s insistence on “protective measures,” such as quotas and special assignments (cited in Coleman, 2000, p. 13). By March of 1950, the Fahy Committee, the Department of Defense and the armed forces reached a tentative agreement on plans for the elimination of the formal legal structure of segregation, including the removal of all Army quotas on the service of African Americans. Prior to the removal of restrictions, black recruits comprised 8.2% of the Army trainees. By July of 1950, 25% of the trainees were African American. It thus became effectively impossible to continue segregation (Coleman, 2000; Geselbracht, 2003).[89]

With the onset of the Korean War in 1950, the size of the Army doubled in five months.[90] By June of 1951, the service included 1.6 million military personnel (MacGregor, 1981). In contrast to the segregated service of Japanese Americans during World War II, Korean Americans served in integrated units during the war; there was no serious opposition to their inclusion, or to the integrated service of Asian Americans more generally. For African Americans, on-the-ground integration would emerge more gradually. The all-black units of the 25th Infantry Division’s 24th Regiment; the 2^nd Infantry Division’s 3rd Battalion, 9^th Infantry Regiment; the 3^rd Infantry Division’s 15th Infantry Regiment; and the 64th Tank Battalion would all serve in Korea (Coleman, 2000).[91] When faced with severe personnel shortages during the war in 1950 and 1951, several field officers integrated troops and found that they functioned well. On the ground, commanders assigned individual black soldiers to white units that had faced heavy casualty losses. Military leaders deemed the performance of these individual units “praiseworthy, with no report of racial friction” (cited in MacGregor, 1981, p. 434).

The existence of segregated and integrated units operating under nearly identical conditions during the war provided an opportunity for academic researchers to study the use of black troops in Korea under circumstances as close as possible to a controlled scientific experiment (see RAND, 1993). The researchers determined that integration “had no discernible detrimental effects on task performance, including combat effectiveness” (RAND, 1993, p. 175). Eighty-nine percent of the officers serving with integrated units reported levels of teamwork equal to or greater than white units. Racial integration was shown to enhance combat effectiveness for African Americans, since they displayed greater morale and combat behavior in mixed units. Eighty-four percent of the officers stated that the integrated units were as aggressive or more aggressive than white units during attacks. Further, the researchers found no evidence that white soldiers were resistant or unwilling to taking orders from African American officers (RAND, 1993).

The study also found that sixty-nine percent of white officers who had served with integrated units during combat felt that African Americans and whites made equally good soldiers, while only thirty-four percent of those who had served with all-white units agreed with that view. Shared experience in the performance of military tasks enhanced mutual trust and respect among racial groups that previously had experienced little interaction. The researchers concluded, as had the earlier 1945 Army study of integrated infantry companies, that there was a strong correlation for white soldiers between experience with racial integration and an acceptance of it (RAND, 1993). By the late 1950s, Army leaders had gradually come to accept, as had Air Force and Navy leaders before them, that racial integration positively influenced morale and performance, rather than endangering them. Segregation was costly, wasted human talent, and fostered destructive social dynamics and racial conflict, because it prevented members of different races from developing mutual understanding and trust (RAND 1993).[92]

VIETNAM AND BEYOND

In 1961, the same year that Kennedy sent 2,000 military advisors to Vietnam,[93] the Administration began to focus on desegregation beyond the limits of military bases and on racial discrimination more generally (Anderson, 1999; United States Army Research, 1988).[94] In an effort to address continued segregation of off-base housing and recreation facilities, President Kennedy and Secretary of Defense McNamara forbade civilian organizations that practiced racial discrimination from using military property. In 1963, the Department of Defense issued its first equal opportunity directives, which declared that racial discrimination damaged morale and unit effectiveness. The directives made base commanders responsible for the off-base discrimination against African American service members and mandated that commanders apply off-limits sanctions to civilian organizations that practiced segregation. The Department of Defense also established civil rights offices to monitor the treatment of minorities and to implement more equitable treatment (Mershon and Schlossman, 1998; United States Army Research, 1988; Nalty and MacGregor, 1981).[95] These policies signaled a shift in both the commitment of the military to racial equality and its role in the civil rights debate:

It gave the military a limited but significant role in the bitter national struggle over ending racial discrimination in privately owned public accommodations – at a time when no federal law or court decision had yet determined such discrimination illegal, and when many southern states were strenuously and sometimes violently opposing desegregation. (Mershon and Schlossman, 1998, p. 295)

However, efforts of the Administration would be outstripped by the racial unrest and polarization that washed over American society more generally, as civilians and soldiers alike came to acknowledge that desegregation did not inevitably lead to full social equality. The Vietnam era, which was “rife with domestic factionalism, conflict, and extreme politicization,” was one of the most turbulent in American history (Holm, 1996, p. 113).[96] The years of 1964 and 1965 were marred by urban riots. In 1964, midsummer riots that began in Harlem spread to Brooklyn, Rochester, Chicago and Philadelphia (Walker, 1999). In 1965, the largest uprising occurred in the Watts neighborhood in Los Angeles, in which 34 people died and 900 more were injured. The National Guard had to be called in by local officials, and 3,500 people were arrested. In 1967, the year in which Martin Luther King announced his opposition to the Vietnam War, the United States experienced the worst summer of racial riots in modern U.S. history. More than 40 riots and 100 incidents occurred nationwide in cities such as Newark, New York, Washington, D.C., Atlanta, Cleveland and Chicago. Martin Luther King’s assassination in 1968 incited a further week of riots in 125 cities (Walker, 1999). The National Advisory Commission on Civil Disorders (1968), which was established to determine the cause of the civil unrest, concluded that, “White racism is essentially responsible for this explosive mixture which has been accumulating in our cities…” (p. 203). They cited continued widespread discrimination, segregation, and the exodus of white Americans from cities (The National Advisory Commission on Civil Disorders, 1968).

As the rest of society was confronted with race riots and protest, so too was the military subject to racial tension. African American and white soldiers exhibited increased racial sensitivity, resulting in voluntary social segregation, as a result of the extreme racial polarization in American society more generally (RAND, 1993).[97][98] There were clashes at Marine installations in 1969, uprisings on Navy ships in the early 1970s, and a riot at the Travis Air Force base in 1971 (RAND, 1993; see also Katzenstein and Reppy, 1999; Astor, 1998). Admiral Zumwalt, the Chief of Naval Operations, came to recognize that desegregation had not precluded “personal slights, affronts, and indignities of a peculiarly humiliating kind,” and he viewed the lack of minority-oriented personal products, books and records at naval exchanges and libraries as “symbolic of the Navy’s pervasive uncaringness for its minority people” (cited in Astor, 1998, p. 450). In Vietnam, the disproportionate service of minorities became a political issue, particularly as the war itself came to be viewed in racialized terms (see Holm, 1996). During the war, 23% of combat soldiers were African American, more than twice their representative numbers in the general population, and minority men in general were more likely to enter the military, see duty in Vietnam and directly participate in combat than their white counterparts (DEOMI, 2002; Holm, 1996).[99]

While serious racial discord in the military occurred, researchers and veterans emphasize that tensions primarily flared away from Vietnam combat zones in rear areas, bases and civilian communities (see Astor, 1998; RAND, 1993). As the Commander of the 101^st Airborne in Vietnam explains, “It is often said, ‘there are no atheists in foxholes.’ Almost the same can be said about ‘no racists in foxholes’” (cited in Astor, 1998, p. 430). Under conditions of danger, “… war with its common purpose has a way of bringing people together” (Admiral Zumwalt, cited in Astor, p. 445). Under more relaxed conditions, protests occurred over job assignments, perceived differences in risk, housing conditions and official bias; friction also arose over ethnic differences in music, hair styles, and displays of the Confederate flag (see Astor, 1998; RAND, 1993; Mershon and Schlossman, 1998; Nalty and MacGregor, 1981). One African American soldier explained:

The racial incidents didn’t happen in the field. Just when we went to the back. It wasn’t so much that they were against us. It was just that we felt we were being taken advantage of, ‘cause it seemed like [sic] more blacks in the field than in the rear (cited in Nalty, 1986, p. 301)

Throughout the difficult period of extreme racial hostility the U.S., soldiers continued to operate effectively in integrated units under the heaviest combat conditions (see Astor, 1998; RAND, 1993; Mershon and Schlossman, 1998; Nalty and MacGregor, 1981). The RAND researchers conclude in their review of race relations in Vietnam:

Even this heightened level of tension, however, did not interfere greatly with actual combat operations. … For all the fears expressed at the time about the potential impact of racial tensions on military performance, task cohesion under conditions of combat does not appear to have been a serious problem. (pp. 181-2)[100]

In response to divisions, the military acted with a renewed commitment to racial equality and established programs to foster improved race relations. In 1970, the Department of Defense committed itself to equal opportunity and treatment for all personnel, regardless of race, national origin or sex (United States Army Research Institute for the Behavioral and Social Sciences, 1988). Under Directive 1322.11 in 1971, the Department of Defense established the Race Relations Education Board to develop a race relations educational program and the Defense Race Relations Institute to train instructors. A core curriculum on race relations was developed in 1971, and the Army mandated that every unit attend 18 hours of training. Each service member was required to attend one session of the course each year. “The implementation of the program constituted the largest effort in terms of numbers of people and hours of training ever made by an organization to provide race relations instruction” (United States Army Research Institute for the Behavioral and Social Sciences, 1988, p. 36).

Further, the Navy enacted 200 programs related to race relations in a 3-year period. These programs ranged from the symbolic (such as naming ships after African American icons) to the substantive (such as requiring every base, station and ship to appoint a special assistant for minority matters). The Navy also set aside 10% of NROTC units for historically black colleges (Astor, 1998). In 1973, the Department of Defense mandated an annual Equal Opportunity report and an on-going race relations education program in the Department of Defense (United States Army Research Institute for the Behavioral and Social Sciences, 1988). While the programs could not change long-held attitudes overnight, they did signal an awareness of racial problems and a commitment to improvement. “In this respect, the military now stepped out ahead of the civilian sector” (Astor, 1998, p. 479).

The military continued to press for greater social equity even as the situation improved (see Astor, 1998). In 1974, the Army Research Institute established an operational definition of institutional racial discrimination and applied it to the Army environment. The effects, rather than the intent, of discrimination would be studied; rather than trying to determine the cause of differential retention and promotion rates, the military would take the existence of differential rates as prima facie evidence of institutional discrimination.[101] This definition allowed researchers to avoid the subjective intent of military commanders and focus instead on the undisputable statistics of placement (U.S. Army Research Institute for Behavioral and Social Sciences, 1988). The statistical information also expanded official awareness of inequalities for other minorities, as relative rates of Latino, Asian American and Native American service members began to be tracked as well. The military would scrupulously catalogue the occupational breakdown, pay grades, promotions, and officer pools by race, providing bench marks for racial parity among officers and enlisted soldiers (see U.S. Army Research Institute for Behavioral and Social Sciences, 1988; DEOMI, June 2000).

In 1979, the mandate of the Defense Race Relations Institute was expanded to encompass the improvement of leadership and readiness in a military that was diverse in terms of gender, race, ethnicity and religion, and its name was changed to the Defense Equal Opportunity Management Institute (DEOMI) to reflect its broader mandate (see DEOMI, 2003). DEOMI initiated an intense six-week training program that taught minority history, contributions to the armed forces, and the social, psychological and cultural factors affecting race relations. It also taught problem-solving techniques. In the 1980s, the training was expanded to sixteen weeks and information on cross-cultural differences, sexism and anti-Semitism were added (see DEOMI, 2003; U.S. Army Research Institute for Behavioral and Social Sciences, 1988). The military has embraced an activist effort to promote equal opportunities for its service members: “The definitive message is that the military must not be nondiscriminatory; it must be actively anti-discriminatory to protect the Constitutional rights of all citizens.” (DEOMI, February 2002, p. 23)[102]

The present U.S. military is a highly racially diverse institution. African Americans, Latinos, Asian/Pacific Island and Native American soldiers comprised nearly 40% of the armed forces in 2002 (Becton et al., 2003; see also McNelis, 1999)[103] While prejudice has not been eradicated, the armed forces officially maintains zero tolerance policies against overt racism and racial discrimination (Office of the Under Secretary of Defense Personnel and Readiness, 2002; DEOMI, 2002). A recent survey on career progression found no substantial racial differences in respondents’ expressions of satisfaction with military life, as well as similar career tenures for African American and white male service members. The study further found that “Officers who felt they had been discriminated against generally believed that the act was committed by an individual rather than by the institution” (Office of the Under Secretary of Defense Personnel and Readiness, 2002, p. ix; see also DEOMI, 2002). As the report noted, the record of the military in promoting minority personnel has widely been perceived as often “exceed[ing] the progress of civilian society.” (Office of the Under Secretary of Defense Personnel and Readiness, p. v, 2002).

While the proportion of minority enlisted personnel to officers has remained disproportionate, the U.S. military’s commitment to improving leadership opportunities for minorities places it at the forefront of workplace leadership diversity efforts. A number of programs exist throughout the armed forces to identify minority candidates with officer potential and assist them in obtaining their commission (Office of the Under Secretary of Defense Personnel and Readiness, 2002). Minority representation among active duty commissioned officers more than doubled between 1977 and 1997, from 7.0% to 15.3%, and percentages of officers have increased for all underrepresented groups. Such increases occurred despite a general contraction of the size of the armed forces from 1987 to 1997 (Office of the Under Secretary of Defense Personnel and Readiness, 2002; DEOMI, June 2000). Minority midshipmen presently account for approximately 20% of the entering class at the Naval Academy (Tomblin, 1999). The armed forces has accessed African American officer candidates in greater proportion than their presence among the college educated national population; African American males accounted for 7.2% of the college graduates between 21 and 35 in 1997, while they comprised 8.5% of military officer accessions (Office of the Under Secretary of Defense Personnel and Readiness, 2002). The military presently has a higher percentage of African American generals and admirals than corporate America does of comparable black executives (White, 1999).

CONCLUSION

Marginalized groups have repeatedly used political pressure for the right to prove their loyalty to the nation through military service, and they have used such service in turn to press for greater social and political legitimacy. As the sociologist Morris Janowitz writes, “… participation in the national army has been an integral aspect of the normative definition of citizenship” (cited in Horner and Anderson, 1994, p. 250; see also Holm, 1996). While ethnic groups have not always realized the gains that they sought from service, as old antagonisms reassert themselves once the demands for troops have died down and the danger has passed, military service has nonetheless been a key component in successive ethnic struggles for social equality. Participation in the military indicates an acceptance into the mainstream of American life, and it provides a way of signaling that members are willing to bear the responsibilities that accompany full citizenship. Because the U.S. military both draws its members from a heterogeneous society and serves in defense of that society, it inevitably reflects the nation’s diversity and its collective challenges.

As American culture has acclimated to successive waves of immigration and become more accepting of certain types of diversity, so too have the personnel challenges of the military been transformed. An ecumenical approach to religious service in the armed forces is broadly embraced, white foreign nationals have been widely accepted, and the military has moved beyond the issue of the integration of racial minorities to active efforts for recruitment and advancement. The willingness of individuals from marginalized or disparaged ethnic groups to risk their lives for a society that has not fully embraced them has a poignant parallel in the effect of that risk on the forging of unit cohesion and loyalty. Regardless of why they serve, participants in combat units throughout U.S. history have remarked on the unifying effects of shared hardship and danger under combat conditions. In speaking of World War II, Bendersky (2000) notes, “Jewish soldiers frequently attested that ‘there were no anti-semites at the frontline’,” while a prisoner of war commented that Native American and white soldiers in camps “were closer to each other than even [their] own brothers could be.” (Bendersky, 2000, p. 299; and Bernstein, 1991, p. 58). The external political pressures of a democratic society and the internal force of increased manpower needs during war have repeatedly spurred military officials, often against their own fervent wishes, to create more inclusive units than general social mores or official military culture deem appropriate. It is just and fitting that they have done so, for history reflects both the military benefits of inclusion and the strengthening of U.S. civic culture that results.

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