I know I am getting older, it is telling in the things I care about. Like how I wiled away my afternoon in search of one small answer in the great big scheme of my endless questions. That I could be so curious and dogged about stuff that I never before cared about. If that isn't a sign of encroaching older age, I don't know what is.
It all starts with memories. Childhood on thru. Melancholy too. I loved my dad. I miss my dad. I get it double whammy in this merry, melancholy month of May. His birth month. And the day I go to say thank you for his service to this country. Today is the day.
Thru
The
Years
This is where I choose to end. Of course it is only my 8th grade graduation, but it was as close to walking me down an aisle that my father got. He died when I was a sophomore in college.
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So there were many, too many questions that I never got to ask. Several years back I connected with some folks from the family and back-filling began.
There was the awesome family research done by Thom Edmonds, a first cousin of my dad. It gave me a look into a large family system that came out of Virginia (and yes, slave days) and has now spread across this nation (who knows about other nations? I have some sneaking suspicions about Canada, but that's another story).
I made the emotional and amazing journey to Southside Virginia a few years back (and still haven't written about it). I learned so much and yet returned with still so many unanswered questions.
I travel back and forth from MA to Suffield Ct. in search of spaces, places, and answers. Sometimes I get lucky, sometimes not.
Somewhere in all this journeying I met up with a relative, Evelyn Edmonds Sharp at the family cemetery in Suffield- Woodlawn Cemetery on Bridge St. I found dad, and a whole host of others, resting easy in a sweet spot.
So next I began returning to the cemetery. My husband (a most amazing man) accompanied me and together we began to clean off, straighten up and overall tend to the graves of the Edmonds clan.
Year after year, and sometimes months in-between we'd either ride through, poke into places, attend an event, or visit the library in the quest for family lore. The illusive question has always been, "Where did dad live?"
Every year as the technology has changed, and the ability to digitize increase, new treasures would appear.
This year, this day I wondered about the Edmonds men who had served. So here is what I found. I will start with dad and his buddy. I thought it was Kenneth Samuel Edmonds and Charles Kenneth Jackson (well it officially is, but you know how names go). They were born almost one month apart- dad May 4, 1924, and Charles June 1, 1924. Here they are as 18 year olds:
Interestingly enough, this year I found their draft cards.
   
What I learned today is not only did Charles marry my dad's sister, Lillian, but he signed his name Kenneth, so he must have been a Kenny too. And add to that was the address on his draft card- 6 Ellison St. Suffield, Ct. was right next door to another Edmonds with an "Old Man's Draft Card":
 
While I was at this free site, I went ahead and found all the other Edmonds they had. Here they are:
 
John Wes and James Otis were not veterans and I don't know why.
The interesting one in the bunch is a grave we have been taking care of for years but know so little about.
Thom Edmonds had approximate birth dates for the Edmonds 9, as I have come to know the 9 Male Edmonds men who were born to Charlie and Anna Moss in Baskerville, VA around the end of the 1800's. Charles Adolphus Edmonds did not have a correct birth date, so he is out of order in the batting lineup. Today I found out his exact date and a few other things. First his "Old Man's Draft Card":
As you can see he was 52 at the time of signing in 1942.
What it neglects to note was that he was a veteran of the first World War. I know this from tending his grave.
His print is getting hard to see, but we were able to make out the inscription "Co. F 811th Pion. Inf."
So off I spun to find out about his duty. Thanks to this book:
I learned a great deal. Here is but a small part from the book:
The Negro in the
Service of Supply
War is not all "death and glory." For every soldier who
gets even a glimpse of the enemy or risks his life within range of shellfire,
there must, in all modern warfare, be from twenty to thirty men working at such
commonplace and routine tasks as loading and unloading ships, building piers,
laying railroad tracks, making roads, in a thousand other ways making it
possible for the fighting men to get to the front, and for the necessary food,
ammunition, and other supplies to reach them. But what man would want to render
such service? It was somewhat exciting news for the Negro population of the
United States to learn that only about twenty per cent of the colored draftees
were to be trained to fight while the remaining Negroes in the military service
would constitute noncombatant divisions in the Service of Supply, or other
non-fighting organizations. On June 23, 1918, when 237,000 Negroes had been
called to the colors, it was estimated that the battalions of the noncombatant
to the combatant troops were in the proportion of about four to one.
This vast army of Stevedores in France was composed mostly of men
who volunteered when the call was first sounded. The first men who went over
early in June, 1917, were with a civilian contract company, experienced as stevedores
in America. They served one year and finishing their contract in June, 1918,
returned to America. During the early days of July, 1917, other companies of
volunteer men arrived, so the army grew until the Stevedore Camps at base ports
in France became one great industrial army, numbering about fifty thousand.
The army of Stevedores had all the equipment, regulations,. and
military rank and uniform that the infantry had. Though industrial in its
nature, all the life and workings, and details of procedure, were according to
military law and order. This vast army of workers was divided into companies
and regiments and had their individual camps regularly officered and numbered.
Anything by the way of uniform and ration that other men received, the Stevedore
shared equally. They were soldiers and took great pride in the fact that they
belonged to Uncle Sam's Army. Including all the display that goes with drills,
reviews, and inspections, saluting an officer, flag-raising, and perchance, the
grand parades, with companies swinging into line, and the martial music of
bands, the Stevedores always stepped proudly and lively enough to suit the
keenest military eye for discipline and fine training.
The Stevedores also took great pride in their companies, their
camps, and all that belonged to the Army, and because their work and
contribution were always emphasized by officers as being essential to the boys
in the trenches, the name "Stevedore" finally became a dignified and
distinguished term, representing an important part of the great American Army.
To the Negro soldiers of the American Army fell a large part of
the work of this "Service of Supply," or, as it was known in Army
slang, the "S. O. S." The work of the Negro Stevedore Regiments and
Labor Battalions, and their unremitting toil at the French ports---Brest, St.
Nazaire, Bordeaux, Havre, Marseilles---won the highest praise from all who have
had an opportunity to judge of the efficiency of their work. Every man who
served his country in one of these organizations was as truly fighting to save
his country as though he had carried a rifle and killed Germans.
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