Yesterday, we honored Martin Luther King and his life’s work: the movement to racial equality and justice. From Montgomery to Birmingham, to Washington, and to Memphis, Dr. King dedicated his life and sacrificed comfort and safety for the liberty of fellow Americans. "And, I don’t mind," he said. "I just want to do God’s will."

But prior to the hard-fought wins of the civil rights movement, even soldiers returning from war were not exempt from "the indignity of insult, the harrowing fear of intimidation, and… the threat of physical injury and mob violence." We rightly hang our heads in shame at the disdainful welcome-home we gave Vietnam War veterans. But we have forgotten entirely the experience of the returning black soldiers of the 1940’s.

Isaac Woodard was black. He served in the Army during World War II, unloading anti-aircraft ammunition on the Philippine islands and New Guinea. He earned one battle star, performing his duties under fire during the New Guinea campaign. He was honorably discharged in February, 1946. The day after his discharge, still in uniform, Isaac took a bus home from Camp Gordon, GA to Winnsboro, SC. He was planning on meeting his wife there. Isaac never made it to Winnsboro.

During the ride, Isaac asked the driver to use the bathroom at the next stop. The white driver said no and cursed at him. Isaac cursed back. At the next stop, Batesburg, SC, the police were waiting. They hit him on the head with a billy club. They pinned him on the ground. One officer drew a gun on him. The other pounded the end of his club into Isaac’s eyes. His eyeballs burst, he was blinded, and he fell unconscious. He awoke in jail and was fined $50.

This event could have ended in that jail cell. But instead it resonated. In my research, I found three major contributions that Isaac’s ordeal made to the broader civil rights movement. Through the loss of his eyes, Isaac Woodard continued to serve his country.

1. In July, 1946, Orson Welles (a famous film director and radio broadcaster) heard about Isaac’s experience. He took to the airwaves, lambasting Batesburg police for their brutality. These broadcasts mobilized thousands of people to support the civil rights movement.
    
2. The NAACP took the officer, Linwood Shull, to court. Despite admitting openly that he had beat Isaac to blindness, the all-white jury acquitted the officer. The judge, Julius Waring (a southerner raised on racial prejudice), saw the injustice in the ruling and eventually became a civil-right champion. He would go on to rule in favor of voting rights for blacks in South Carolina. He would also write an influential opinion for Brown vs. Board of Education, leading to the integration of public schools. (May 1954)
    
3. President Truman also heard about Isaac as he prepared to give a speech to the NAACP at the Lincoln Memorial in Washington DC. He was enraged. He was speaking of Isaac when he told the thousands in attendance: "Many of our people still suffer the indignity of insult, the harrowing fear of intimidation, and, I regret to say, the threat of physical injury and mob violence. The prejudice and intolerance in which these evils are rooted still exist. The conscience of our nation, and the legal machinery which enforces it, have not yet secured to each citizen full freedom from fear." (June 1947) Six months later, President Truman issued the orders that desegregated both the federal workforce and the United States Military.

Woodard would spend the rest of his life speaking to gatherings and on the radio, telling his story. He spoke out against violence. Unable to work, Isaac lived on a $50 monthly pension from the VA and a $29 monthly pension from the NAACP.

Isaac Woodard did not ask to become a catalyst in the march to racial equality. But he deserves our thanks for filling that role with the same honor he displayed on the beaches of the Pacific.

Isaac Woodard, First Hand Documents
Orson Welles Commentaries: Affidavit of Isaac Woodard and The Place was Batesburg
Harry Truman’s Address Before the NAACP

There were a few moments that I was afraid that I could die a soldier. Some were early, as a Basic Training recruit or a young specialist with orders to deploy to Iraq. I was scared my first time driving through Fallujah, and my first time gunning through Kandahar. I was terrified when my Freightliner rolled outside Al Hillah. He may not say it out loud, or admit it to others, but a soldier has to accept his mortality every time he leaves the base. I’ve been scared to die, but it was fear of the moment that my wife would answer the door to an Army ‘casualty notification officer‘. Or that my baby girls would only know their father in pictures and blog posts. God be thanked that through two tours I saw very little "action", was never wounded, and never came very near death. Other soldiers in my units made much more contact with the enemy, and they came home alive too.

We did our best. But a humble veteran will almost always shrink at being called a hero. "The real heroes," the saying goes, "are still over there." The veterans of the World Wars, Korea, and other conflicts refer to the cemeteries around the world where the dead are interred, not far from the battlefield. Among them are Ardennes, Cambridge, Corozal, Manila, Normandy, and others. These days, our fallen come back through Dover Air Force Base, escorted by fellow soldiers to their loved ones. I’ve made two trips across the Atlantic with fallen Returning Warriors on board. It is sobering.

More than 4,300 soldiers have fallen in Iraq, and another 1,000 from Afghanistan. And while these numbers may seem small in comparison to other wars, they will continue to rise as the wars rage on. But most importantly, we cannot forget that these 5,300 ‘casualties’ are real, individual people. They are fathers, husbands, friends. They are career soldiers, doctors, plumbers, and students. They leave behind grieving spouses and children, an empty side of the bed, and "the empty chair where Dad sits," as the song goes, "How loud can silence get?"

We miss them and mourn them.

We are a grateful nation, no matter our politics. Wherever we stand along the spectrum – from hawks to doves – we know that these men and women voluntarily stood ready to defend our Nation. We understand that they honored their commitment by moving out when ordered, and that they served with distinction. We know that when that moment-of-moments came (in the form of a bullet, a blast, or even a tragic accident), these soldiers gave everything for us and for their battle-buddies.

Tomorrow, we celebrate Memorial Day and kick off the summer season. As a blessed and free people, we should treasure times like these: the fine weather, the burgers and bratwurst, our friends, our families, and the day off work. But I hope that we won’t let Memorial Day pass by so quickly that we neglect the memory of those men and women who can’t be with us. It is their day, not ours. Just as "the brave men, living and dead, who struggled [at Gettysburg], have consecrated it far above our poor power to add or detract," so will our moments of silence and our prayers be insufficient. But we owe them at least that.

 To learn about the men and women who have paid the highest price, take a look at CNN’s "Home and Away; Iraq and Afghanistan War Casualties" application. Find those soldiers who are from your hometown, those who are similar in age, or – for veterans – those who served in the AO that you were deployed to.