The Salvation of Music Overseas
THOSE who know the native love and ability of our race for music will not marvel at the statement that colored soldiers sang, whistled and played their way through the late war. There were days of hunger and thirst; days full of deathly fatigue; days filled with the dense smoke and deafening uproar of battle; days when terrible discriminations and prejudices ate into the soul deeper than the oppressors knew. But through it all there was salvation—the salvation of the music that welled so naturally in the souls of the colored soldiers. In the midst of the French the artistic temperament of our soldiers found a warm welcome and a favorable atmosphere in which to unfold and find full expression; and, although it manifested itself in many ways, it found no other realm half so alluring as that of music. Individually and in groups, colored soldiers gave themselves to the enjoyment or serious study of music.
In the hut the average life of a piano was but of short duration. Every moment from early dawn to late night, this instrument was in constant use. One became so accustomed to its continuous sounds as to be unconscious of them. We returned to America hoping that for the remainder of our lives we might be spared hearing any form of “Blues,” for whatever else he might play, a fellow would finally finish with a touching rendition of some one of the many “Blues.”
There were melodies of joy and melodies of sorrow. We heard our soldiers on the coast of France chanting in unfailing rhythm as they unloaded the great cargoes from America. We heard them in Southern France singing in joyous abandon as they sailed Lake Bourget, ascended Mount Revard or hiked up to Hannibal’s Pass in the Alps. We heard them in the night watches at Romagne as they tenderly reburied their comrades who had fallen on the fields of battle. We heard them at the port again, as they looked longingly towards America and sang, “It’s a long, long trail.” Ever in our ears will we hear the harmony of those thousands of voices as they were blended in song for religious service, for the speed of work or for mere pleasure. Always this music breathed a wistful poignancy, but always it breathed, too, the matchless will and spirit of the race who sang. Nothing strengthened more the bond of loving sympathy that existed between the French and colored American than this musical temperament. Our bands played their way into the very souls of the French.