Reblogging to note the good news. Henry Lincoln Johnson has finally received his Medal of Honor.
Originally posted on Social Williams:
Pretty much everything I know about Henry Lincoln Johnson I learned from reading “Badass” by Ben Thompson. With respect to Mr. Thompson I shall try to tell Mr. Johnson’s story without plagiarising his work.
Basically this is the gist of it. Johnson enlisted in the Army in World War I because he was a patriot, and he was pretty tired of carrying heavy crap around for white people in New York City.
When he got to Europe, his unit, the 369th “Harlem Hell Fighters”, was given every crap job in the theater of war until finally the French, who by this time had their balls in a vice and were pissed that the Americans had not yet committed themselves to combat on the front lines, were given command of this all Black American unit which they threw at the Germans as soon as they could.
One night while on guard…
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It seems I’ve worked the last eight evenings. Tonight that effort was finished and tomorrow I get to see how well I did.
At the end of it all I walked downstairs, noticed the house smells like summer, the girls are asleep in their beds, even the teenager, probably. Outside there were frogs and other things chirping and moving about under clear skies in a not too cool night. I had a smoke and an IPA and thought about how nice it is to be happy.
It’s not the work–I did that because it is it’s work I’m responsible for, not because I’m passionate about it. Though I suppose I’m passionate about my responsibilities.
Any road, there was a time when I wasn’t happy. Horrible times really, so it’s a good thing to notice the difference and be thankful for it.
This camera sat on the shelf for over two years before I loaded it up and tried it out. I was worried the exposure window on the back wouldn’t line up with modern 120 film. I was wrong. These were taken sometime in the early spring or late winter of this year in Snoqualmie and North Bend, Washington.
Dad had just stated with no uncertainty that if me and my brothers were going to get him anything for his birthday it should be HO scale model trains and accessories.
Fair enough. Dad’s retired now, and I remember as kid he was always keen to build a model rail road. Working as much as he did it’s no wonder it was never built, but we did have a few boxes of trains and track and accessories that had been around since my brothers were little, and even though it was a pain to keep the track together on shag carpet, I ran a good many model rail roads as a kid.
I mean, trains. Where I grew up there were trains everywhere, and rail road crossings. For freight trains everyone would just calmly put their cars in park, roll down the windows, and start smoking. Usually the line of cars would pass after twenty minutes or so. Sometimes it would just stop, and then start to run in reverse. It was times like these that things often got tense. Angry men would get into fist fights before the gates just to blow off steam.
So we got Dad enough gear to get his rail road up and running, and he’s called a few times to talk trains. Since it was also such a lovely day this past Sunday, where we live, we took the toddler back to the Northwest Railway Museum, except this time it was open and we caught the 3:15 “out to the falls and back”, the last ride of the day, just a small portion of the ride described here.