Honoring Sergeant Carter

by Allene Carter

  Clark’s anticommunism rigidified during his conflicts with the Russians in Austria after World War II and became an obsession during the Korean War, as is evident in his book From the Danube to the Yalu. “I was to learn that no matter the color of the skin, the sound of the language or the place of the meeting, a Communist anywhere was just the same as every other Communist.” Clark felt that the communists had successfully recruited many American soldiers—even outstanding combat soldiers—into their ranks.

  Our agents learned that some…of the soldiers received their Communist Party orders at the beginning of their service in the American Army. The orders were for these men to prepare themselves for postwar leadership among their buddies by striving to become outstanding combat soldiers. This would be evidence of patriotism as well as win them the admiration of their fellow soldiers.

  It was evident from this that not only was Eddie suspect because of his association with the Abraham Lincoln Brigade, but in Mark Clark’s eyes virtually everything about Eddie’s Army and civilian careers was cause for suspicion. I thought of Eddie’s struggle to succeed in the Army, his rise to sergeant, his volunteering for combat duty, his heroism in Germany, his return to the United States and his expression of hopes for peace and an end to racial discrimination, his plan to work with veterans, his work in the National Guard, his hope to pursue an Army career—and I realized that all of this would have been seen as evidence of Eddie’s involvement in a communist plot in Mark Clark’s twisted perspective. All of this would have made Eddie guilty and deserving of banishment.

  Clark returned from Europe in June 1947 to be posted as commander of the Sixth Army headquartered at the Presidio in San Francisco, where he remained through 1949. Clark’s thinly disguised racism and his overt obsession with communist plots became focused on Eddie when they both arrived in California after the war. Among other things, the Sixth Army was responsible for assisting in the upgrading and training of the California National Guard. Eddie probably came to the attention of Army counterintelligence as a result of articles about him in the Lee Traveller and Ebony magazine, and was soon placed under surveillance. But any investigation would have come to the attention of the Sixth Army commander, General Clark. The surveillance turned up nothing derogatory, as I now knew from the Freedom of Information file, but Eddie was abruptly detached from the Army instructor group and transferred to Fort Lewis. Eddie’s immediate superior, Colonel L. R. Boyd, the Army’s senior instructor, had no reason to have him transferred, and opposed it. The transfer would have been authorized by Clark. He may have regarded this as punishment, given his suspected-disloyalty-must-be-punished remark—and it was. Eddie was removed from an elite group of instructors who were successfully transforming the California National Guard into an effective force. Their success was becoming recognized within the military and among the public, but Eddie’s removal would deny him any glory, instead leaving a cloud of suspicion and confusion, and even his name would be stricken from the record of this historic reconstruction of the National Guard. Perhaps General Clark thought that by removing Eddie from a high-profile unit and banishing him to Fort Lewis, that would be the end of him.

  But Eddie did his best in every assignment given to him. At Fort Lewis he performed well as a military police officer, was soon assigned to be an instructor, and was praised by the base commander as “a soldier’s soldier.” Eddie was also promoted to sergeant first class. He believed that things were back on track, and that important opportunities would open up for him. Instead, a few months after the laudatory Flame-Spearhead article, he was denied the right to reenlist. The letter banning him from the Army came from Edward Witsell, adjutant general of the Army, but the process had to begin with the Sixth Army. Eddie’s immediate superiors at Fort Lewis were pleased with him and had no reason to oust him from the Army. By this time Clark must have known there was no evidence against Eddie, but he was determined that Sergeant Carter, this audacious, proud black soldier who shone wherever he was assigned, must be brought down. Clark had the motive, the opportunity, and the power to destroy Eddie.

  Ironically, as the process of Eddie’s banishment was unfolding, the Army was in the midst of a campaign to improve the treatment of black soldiers and increase reenlistment. In 1946, the Army adopted a policy that required greater utilization of Negro soldiers “on a broader professional scale.” President Truman’s historic 1948 executive order desegregating the military, and offering equal treatment and opportunity to blacks in the military, further extended the shift in policy. With the growing need for labor power following the postwar demobilization, the Army launched a campaign to increase reenlistment, including black soldiers. Yet internal Army memoranda revealed that, in 1949, the Sixth Army under General Clark’s command was resisting Army policy and seeking to limit black reenlistment and give preferential treatment to white soldiers who wanted to reenlist. Clark’s resistance negatively impacted overall reenlistment rates. At Fort Lewis in the months before Eddie was barred from reenlistment, one report tellingly noted that the rate had dropped to an unexpectedly low level for “unknown” reasons. Army Chief of Staff General Omar Bradley, citing the shortage of high-quality men, wrote to Clark urging him to “maintain interest in the reenlistment drive.” But while Clark claimed that he was working to implement policy and improve reenlistment rates, his treatment of black soldiers in general, and Eddie in particular, revealed a pernicious racial tilt.

  Reprehensible behavior on the part of General Clark and his subordinates did not, however, relieve the Army or the government from responsibility for the injustice that was done to Eddie and the cover-up that followed. The fact is that many highly placed individuals were in a position to know what was going on, including Adjutant General Edward Witsell, FBI director J. Edgar Hoover, Secretary of Defense Louis Johnson, and Johnson’s assistant, James Evans. This raises the question of the role played by Truman’s assistant, David Niles. Did the President know the truth or was he lied to?

  I told Buddha about the Freedom of Information Act file. It showed that they never had evidence to support the allegations against Eddie, I said, and they knew it all along. What could we do now, we wondered. Then Buddha said something that revealed what had to be done. The Medal of Honor was important, he said, but unless Eddie’s name was cleared the medal was an honor without honor. “If they destroyed him before the world,” he said, “let them apologize before the world.” My initial response was skepticism: “That’s all very noble but how do we get them to do that?” I couldn’t imagine getting the Army to apologize. I scoffed at the idea—but then I started to think about it.

  I recalled all the press furor at the time of the Medal of Honor events, and the anxiety of the White House and the military brass about how the press would handle the story. That experience gave me an appreciation of the importance and power of the media.

  I thought of Joe Galloway, the U.S. News & World Report reporter who had written about the Medal of Honor awards. He impressed me as a fair and astute journalist and a sympathetic person. Was it possible that he would help us? I called him at his office in Washington and told him that there was a new development in the story of Sergeant Carter. He asked if I could fax the material to him. I wanted to whet his appetite. “Oh, I can’t send this,” I said. “It might be too hot to handle.” That got his attention.

  “Okay, what do you want to do?” he responded.

  “Let’s meet,” I said. “I will come to Washington.”

  I put together a thick binder of the materials from the files I had collected and an album of photographs. A few days later I flew to Washington. We met in a big conference room. Joe was there with his editor and a photographer and some other people. I was impressed; I had expected only to meet briefly with him. I laid out the material I had brought on the big conference table, and then I made my pitch about the mistreatment of Sergeant Edward Carter. I gave them a full summary of all that I had discovered.

  By the time I finished, th
ey were stunned. Joe suggested that I go to lunch while they decided what to do. Then he added that he would have a car pick me up at my hotel later because he wanted to do a photo shoot with me at Arlington National Cemetery, where Eddie now was buried. Now I was the one left waiting in suspense.

  The photo shoot took place at Arlington at dusk. Joe Galloway was already working on the story. Before I left the magazine’s office he was thinking of people to interview. Every name he mentioned—Herbert Levy, Russell Blair, and so on—I had included in a list of contacts with phone numbers and addresses in the binder I left with him. When I returned to the office Joe told me they had decided to revamp their planned Memorial Day issue and to instead use Eddie’s story as the lead. It meant writing a ten-page feature story on short notice. It meant Eddie’s picture would appear on the cover of the magazine. I couldn’t have asked for anything more. “And we’ll pay your expenses,” Joe added, to my thankful relief.

  Joe Galloway worked hard and fast on that story. I somewhat reluctantly left him my files, which I felt rather protective about, but they enabled him to write the story in the office with only a few phone calls. The whole staff, from top management on down, got on board for this story.

  The timing was critical. It was published in the May 31, 1999, issue of U.S. News & World Report. I was thrilled to see the full-page photo of Eddie on the cover and the long, detailed article, with many more pictures inside the magazine. Because it was appearing in a national magazine on Memorial Day, the story came to the attention of hundreds of thousands of people, from ordinary citizens to high government officials. This was a story, the article began, “about how a battlefield hero could be broken by the country he served, then banished from his beloved military career like a bum.” After recounting Eddie’s heroism and posthumous Medal of Honor, it told of the covert suspicions and investigation and his long and unsuccessful effort to confront his accusers and clear his name. My efforts to find answers about what happened to Sergeant Carter were summarized. The article ended:

  Most of the answers are spread on the record, thanks to Allene Carter’s bulldog tenacity…. What happened to Eddie Carter Jr. should never have happened in a democratic nation…. If the U.S. Army and the United States government would like to say “We’re sorry; we apologize for what happened to Eddie Carter,” the Carter family says it is ready to listen and ready to forgive. And maybe a long-dead hero who now sleeps in Arlington National Cemetery will rest a bit easier.

  This story got national attention, and other media—radio, television, other newspapers—started picking it up. Our phones were ringing off the hook.

  The first public consequence of this flurry of activity was dramatic: a letter of apology from President Clinton.

  This was a huge victory in our drive to clear Eddie’s name. I was deeply grateful for the President’s swift action. His letter lifted the spirits of our family and everyone else who wished to see justice done. His letter also gave a strong impetus to others, such as the Board for Correction of Military Records, to review the case.

  I had never approached the Board for Correction of Military Records because I didn’t know what to ask for, nor did I have any supporting documentation. Now I did.

  Happily, they contacted me first. Shortly after the first article on Eddie appeared, I got a call from Paul Petty, an examiner for the Board, suggesting that the family submit an application. Word had apparently come down from higher up. Petty sent us the application, which Buddha signed and returned on July 30.

  In a follow-up story on August 23, 1999, Joe Galloway reported my reaction: “The long-sought apology [from President Clinton] ‘brings vindication and clears the false accusations which destroyed his military career and personal life,’ says the soldier’s daughter-in-law, Allene Carter. Her hope: that it will prompt the Army Board for Correction of Military Records to correct all of his military records.”

  I knew that the Board for Correction had our application under consideration; hence my expression of hope that they would act favorably and promptly.

  There were several things that we wanted done. In the first place, Joe Wilson had noticed that Sergeant Carter’s rank on his headstone at Arlington was incorrect. It showed Eddie’s rank as staff sergeant. In all of the excitement around the Medal of Honor ceremony and reinterment, I had not caught this error myself. But in fact, in 1949, Eddie had attained the rank of sergeant first class. We also knew that there were awards Eddie had won in the service that were not reflected in either his military records or on the headstone at Arlington, nor was his combat duty and combat military occupational specialty shown. Most important of all, of course, was clearing his name of any suggestion of disloyalty, with a new discharge certificate for his second enlistment for the period 1946–1949 that removed any statement of restrictions on his ability to reenlist. We also wanted the Adjutant General’s Report corrected to record Eddie’s service as an instructor to the California National Guard; this would require a separate action by the California Guard authorities.

  Examiner Petty asked me for documentation to support the validity of these requests. This is where all my research and legwork paid off. I now had hundreds of pages of documents, letters, photographs, and other materials. I had organized it all into binders. I knew it all intimately, and I lived with it every day. To every query raised by Petty I was able to present copious documentation of what had transpired using the Army’s own records, or correspondence sent by Army officials to others, such as the ACLU.

  As it turned out, the Board for Correction met on August 26 to make a decision on our application. In September I received a copy of the report of the Board’s proceedings and conclusions. The report made for the most satisfying reading that I had done in a long time. Several awards that Sergeant Carter had won during the war were not reflected on his discharge. This was corrected. The Board went further. Sergeant Carter was eligible for additional awards—a fact unknown to us—that were never granted, including the American Campaign Medal and Army of Occupation Medal. This was corrected. His discharge after World War II listed his race incorrectly as “white.” This oddity was corrected.

  Finally I came to the conclusion of the Board’s proceeding: “The denial of reenlistment at the conclusion of the former service member’s second enlistment was unjust. The allegations of interests by the former service member in conflict with those of the United States are determined to be unfounded based on a review of all evidence available. The denial of reenlistment should be rescinded with apologies.”

  It was such a bittersweet moment. I felt elated and emotionally exhausted at the same time.

  I was pleased to get the Board’s decision, but Buddha and I were clear in insisting that there must be a public apology. The falsity of the charges must be publicly stated, and Eddie’s name cleared before the world. This idea was not warmly embraced, but the Army finally agreed to a public acknowledgment of what had happened.

  On November 10, 1999, we found ourselves once again in Washington, D.C., at the Pentagon’s Hall of Heroes. This time we were there for a ceremony at which an official apology was made by the Army for its banishment of Sergeant Edward Carter. Mildred was with us, although she didn’t really understand what was happening. Eddie’s sons Buddha and Redd sat with her as honored guests at the front of the room. Also present was Eddie’s old commanding officer, Russell Blair. The room was filled with military and civilian guests, including Woodfred Jordan and Herbert Levy. Of course, our children Corey and Sandy and Redd’s wife, Karen, were in the audience. Most of the major media sent reporters, and the ceremony was widely covered.

  General John Keane, the Army’s vice chief of staff, spoke for the Army. He told the story of Eddie’s heroic action against the Germans at Speyer. Then he continued: “I recount Sergeant Carter’s incredible story of bravery and determination because it reveals the depth of the injustice done to this great soldier after the war. We are here today to set the record straight,” he said, “to ac
knowledge that a man of great personal courage, who served his country with honor and dignity, was denied the opportunity to reenlist, without explanation and without the opportunity to defend his good name and preserve his honor. Sergeant Carter…was an American hero who was denied the recognition he deserved and the opportunity to serve because of racial prejudice and the wave of anticommunist hysteria that engulfed our nation after World War II.

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  “No words can right the wrong or undo the injustice that was done to Sergeant Carter. We must, however, acknowledge the mistake and apologize to his family and continue to honor the memory of this great soldier.”

  Later in the day we were transported to Arlington National Cemetery to lay a wreath and unveil the new headstone for Eddie’s grave. It read:

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  EDWARD A. CARTER JR.

  Medal of Honor

  Sergeant First Class, U.S. Army