They entered the lunchroom, sat at the tables, had their meals served, talked, smoked, in fact had quite a swell time. about a two dozen German prisoners of war, with two American guards, came into the station. The only place where we could be served was at the lunchroom at the railroad station but, of course we had to go into the kitchen.

On the next day we could not purchase a cup of coffee at any of the lunchrooms around there. We had to lay over until the next day for our train. What is the Negro soldier fighting for? On whose team are we playing? Myself and eight other soldiers were on our way from Camp Claiborne, La., to the hospital here at Fort Huachuca. Here is a question that each Negro soldier is asking. Source: Rupert Trimmingham, letters to the editor, Yank, Apand July 28, 1944.