World War II
D-Day:
A Black Soldier’s Service to his Country
By Andre Kearns
Seventy-five years ago, my grandfather James Doc Richards was one of 73,000 U.S. troops to land on the beaches of Normandy on D-Day. I know this because he told me so.
About a year before my grandfather passed away, he came to visit with me. I took the day off and we spent it together. Over lunch, he shared stories of participating in the Normandy invasion. He said he would never forget the sound of bullets whizzing by his helmet, the sights of death, the utter chaos. He also reflected on the sting of serving in a segregated United States Army. For example, his commanding officer was white and functionally illiterate, and he was black and college educated, so one of his responsibilities each morning was to read him his mail.
My grandfather was an extrovert who could talk with anyone about anything. But for most of his life he never spoke about his World War II experiences. Reflecting on the D-Day 75th commemoration over the past weekend and thinking back on the day he revealed his involvement to me, I am filled with regret for what I didn’t ask him that day. What company did he serve in? On which beach did he land? What role did he play in the invasion?
These are questions I might never fully answer, but history provides some context for what his experience might have been. Historical narratives of D-Day largely cut out soldiers of color, but they were there in Normandy serving their country and my grandfather was one of them. The US military was segregated at that time and most black soldiers were not permitted to serve in front line combat units. Instead they served as service and supply troops, artillerymen, military police, and in other rear-echelon companies and battalions. These roles still exposed them to combat. Knowing the threat of death my grandfather experienced helps me to better understand the sense of mission and purpose in which he lived his life post-war.
James Edward Richards was born in 1920 in Suffolk, Virginia to James Lee Richards and Annie Biggs Richards. He descends from a line of James Richards tracing back to his great grandfather who was born enslaved around 1849 and who lived his life in Northampton County, North Carolina, just below the Virginia border. His Suffolk roots trace back to his third great grandmother Patsey White a free black woman born in the late 1700s. His Virginia roots traced back even further through his grandmother Florence Cumbo who descends from the first Africans to arrive in seventeenth century Jamestown, Virginia.
He attended South Carolina State College graduating with a degree in chemistry in 1942. In 1943 before heading off to war he married my grandmother Athalia Joyner of Suffolk. By D-Day in 1944 he was a father to a newborn son, my uncle. They would have two more children, my mother and my aunt. After his military service, he discovered that race made it difficult for him to pursue a career in his chosen field of chemistry, so he attended Howard University to train as a pharmacist. While at Howard he served as President of his senior class.
Upon graduation from Howard in 1950 he returned home to Suffolk VA to open its first and only black pharmacy, so his community could get their prescriptions filled by walking in the front door. In the south prior to integration, black customers were forced to use the back or alley door entrances of white-owned businesses, still with no guarantee of being served. I recently learned that his business was listed in the Green Book for Negro Motorists, made famous by the 2018 movie “Green Book” which won an Oscar for Best Picture.
You could characterize my grandfather as an entrepreneur, but he was much more of a community man. His service to the community earned him the nickname Doc. He was part of a group of medical professionals who practiced in an area of Suffolk called The Fairgrounds. They were committed to serving their community.
Many young people earned their first jobs at Suffolk Professional Pharmacy. Sick community members were never turned away for prescriptions even if they didn’t have the money. People could count on Doc to fill their prescriptions at any time of night if needed. The pharmacy closed but its legacy continues to this day.
My grandfather helped to liberate Europe from oppression only to return home to the oppression of Jim Crow. Imagine putting your life on the line so Europe could be free, yet not be afforded freedom in your own country. His burden is unimaginable, loaded with the nightmares of his war experiences and made heavier by the daily slights and injustices his country forced him, his family and his community to endure.
He represents a powerful story of black resilience, triumph and agency over circumstance and a profound commitment to service. My grandfather dedicated his life to helping others. He is inspiration to me. I am so thankful that my grandfather survived D-day, served his country honorably, and came home and served his family and community. Thank you to the Greatest Generation for your service to our country. Thank you, Granddaddy.
About a year before my grandfather passed away, he came to visit with me. I took the day off and we spent it together. Over lunch, he shared stories of participating in the Normandy invasion. He said he would never forget the sound of bullets whizzing by his helmet, the sights of death, the utter chaos. He also reflected on the sting of serving in a segregated United States Army. For example, his commanding officer was white and functionally illiterate, and he was black and college educated, so one of his responsibilities each morning was to read him his mail.
My grandfather was an extrovert who could talk with anyone about anything. But for most of his life he never spoke about his World War II experiences. Reflecting on the D-Day 75th commemoration over the past weekend and thinking back on the day he revealed his involvement to me, I am filled with regret for what I didn’t ask him that day. What company did he serve in? On which beach did he land? What role did he play in the invasion?
These are questions I might never fully answer, but history provides some context for what his experience might have been. Historical narratives of D-Day largely cut out soldiers of color, but they were there in Normandy serving their country and my grandfather was one of them. The US military was segregated at that time and most black soldiers were not permitted to serve in front line combat units. Instead they served as service and supply troops, artillerymen, military police, and in other rear-echelon companies and battalions. These roles still exposed them to combat. Knowing the threat of death my grandfather experienced helps me to better understand the sense of mission and purpose in which he lived his life post-war.
James Edward Richards was born in 1920 in Suffolk, Virginia to James Lee Richards and Annie Biggs Richards. He descends from a line of James Richards tracing back to his great grandfather who was born enslaved around 1849 and who lived his life in Northampton County, North Carolina, just below the Virginia border. His Suffolk roots trace back to his third great grandmother Patsey White a free black woman born in the late 1700s. His Virginia roots traced back even further through his grandmother Florence Cumbo who descends from the first Africans to arrive in seventeenth century Jamestown, Virginia.
He attended South Carolina State College graduating with a degree in chemistry in 1942. In 1943 before heading off to war he married my grandmother Athalia Joyner of Suffolk. By D-Day in 1944 he was a father to a newborn son, my uncle. They would have two more children, my mother and my aunt. After his military service, he discovered that race made it difficult for him to pursue a career in his chosen field of chemistry, so he attended Howard University to train as a pharmacist. While at Howard he served as President of his senior class.
Upon graduation from Howard in 1950 he returned home to Suffolk VA to open its first and only black pharmacy, so his community could get their prescriptions filled by walking in the front door. In the south prior to integration, black customers were forced to use the back or alley door entrances of white-owned businesses, still with no guarantee of being served. I recently learned that his business was listed in the Green Book for Negro Motorists, made famous by the 2018 movie “Green Book” which won an Oscar for Best Picture.
You could characterize my grandfather as an entrepreneur, but he was much more of a community man. His service to the community earned him the nickname Doc. He was part of a group of medical professionals who practiced in an area of Suffolk called The Fairgrounds. They were committed to serving their community.
Many young people earned their first jobs at Suffolk Professional Pharmacy. Sick community members were never turned away for prescriptions even if they didn’t have the money. People could count on Doc to fill their prescriptions at any time of night if needed. The pharmacy closed but its legacy continues to this day.
My grandfather helped to liberate Europe from oppression only to return home to the oppression of Jim Crow. Imagine putting your life on the line so Europe could be free, yet not be afforded freedom in your own country. His burden is unimaginable, loaded with the nightmares of his war experiences and made heavier by the daily slights and injustices his country forced him, his family and his community to endure.
He represents a powerful story of black resilience, triumph and agency over circumstance and a profound commitment to service. My grandfather dedicated his life to helping others. He is inspiration to me. I am so thankful that my grandfather survived D-day, served his country honorably, and came home and served his family and community. Thank you to the Greatest Generation for your service to our country. Thank you, Granddaddy.
Learn more & see photos at
andrekearns.medium.com/d-day-a-black-soldiers-service-to-his-country-c7a1d0d0574
andrekearns.medium.com/d-day-a-black-soldiers-service-to-his-country-c7a1d0d0574
Della Raney, Major
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When the United States entered World War II, Raney applied to the Army Nurse Corps. Her first application was denied based on her race. Not deterred by the rejection, Raney continued to apply. An Army Nurse Corp candidate needed to be a member of the American Red Cross, a graduate of a nursing school, a registered professional nurse, and a member of a national nursing organization. Raney wrote about her fight to join the military later in life: ”When I entered nursing more than forty years ago, it was serious business with me. It was a commitment to give my life for a cause—that of caring for those who were ill… It was this strong desire to elevate my profession that led me to volunteer for military service in 1940 with the U.S. Army Nurse Corps. Getting accepted by the Red Cross was difficult for graduates of black schools of nursing in the south, but I persisted in overcoming this barrier to the point of writing Miss Mary Beard, who at that time was director of nursing for the American Red Cross, telling her of my desire to serve my country and practice my profession. Miss Beard replied with my membership card, certificate and pin.” After her acceptance into the American Red Cross, Raney now met all the qualifications to join the Army Nurse Corps. In April 1941, Raney became the first African American accepted to the Army Nurse Corps, earning a commission as a 2nd lieutenant. Due to segregation in the U.S. Armed Forces, Raney and her fellow Black nurses were only allowed to care for Black servicemen. She and 23 other Black nurses were sent to Fort Bragg, North Carolina.
While at Fort Bragg, Raney took the chief nurse exam. She passed and was promoted to 1st lieutenant. Following her promotion, Raney transferred to Tuskegee Army Air Field (now Sharpe Field) in Alabama where she became the first African American in the Army Nurse Corps. She later became chief nurse at Fort Huachuca, Arizona, home to the 92d and 93rd Infantry Divisions, as well as the 2nd Cavalry Division. Known as the “Buffalo Soldiers,” these divisions were made up of entirely African American Soldiers. Raney moved through the ranks quickly, promoted to captain in 1945 and major in 1946. After World War II, Raney served at various Army hospitals across the country and went overseas with the occupation force in Japan. Once Raney returned, she became Director of Nursing for the base hospital at Camp Beale, California (now Beale Air Force Base).
Raney retired in 1978 as major. That same year, the Tuskegee Airmen honored Raney “for her achievements that personified the Tuskegee Spirit.” Raney died in November 1987 and is buried in Arlington National Cemetery under her married name, Della Raney Jackson. In 2012, the Tuskegee Airmen Scholarship Fund and the National Black Nurses Association created a $2,000 scholarship in Raney’s name.
While at Fort Bragg, Raney took the chief nurse exam. She passed and was promoted to 1st lieutenant. Following her promotion, Raney transferred to Tuskegee Army Air Field (now Sharpe Field) in Alabama where she became the first African American in the Army Nurse Corps. She later became chief nurse at Fort Huachuca, Arizona, home to the 92d and 93rd Infantry Divisions, as well as the 2nd Cavalry Division. Known as the “Buffalo Soldiers,” these divisions were made up of entirely African American Soldiers. Raney moved through the ranks quickly, promoted to captain in 1945 and major in 1946. After World War II, Raney served at various Army hospitals across the country and went overseas with the occupation force in Japan. Once Raney returned, she became Director of Nursing for the base hospital at Camp Beale, California (now Beale Air Force Base).
Raney retired in 1978 as major. That same year, the Tuskegee Airmen honored Raney “for her achievements that personified the Tuskegee Spirit.” Raney died in November 1987 and is buried in Arlington National Cemetery under her married name, Della Raney Jackson. In 2012, the Tuskegee Airmen Scholarship Fund and the National Black Nurses Association created a $2,000 scholarship in Raney’s name.