It was 1955 when I first saw this Marine Sargent. He served on my ship’s security detail, the USS Lexington, a carrier that fought in WWII. But it was on a Greyhound bus out of San Diego, California that I noticed he was going my way— east to Oklahoma. I had noticed he was quite a bit older than I and being on Christmas leave he was wearing his WWII medals and they looked pretty impressive. Getting on the bus I noticed there was one other sailor on board from the Lexington. A young black man. Like me, the other sailor had the usual small number of medals like all of the newer guys wore. Such as me.

If you ever took a transcontinental bus trip you know it is filled with numerous stops and times of getting off and on. Such was this trip and as we went along, the three of us grew in the habit of sitting together for our meals. Same ship and all. At these stops and as the trip went along, we stayed together on the bus. Shipmates can always find common ground for talk and both of us were enjoying asking this “old” marine quite a few questions about his extensive experience fighting the war in the Pacific. It was a long ride to Oklahoma City—over 30 hours and when we arrived in Oklahoma City the three of us transferred to another bus. One that took off toward Idabel. We three immediately took seats together and near the front. I was headed for Stonewall and the other two were headed on toward Atoka and Idabel. Once we seated ourselves on our Jordan Bus, I think we all three felt a difference in the air. We were now in “Jim Crow” Oklahoma. Black people were expected to segregate themselves and go to the back of the bus. I wondered if my new friend, this black kid sitting up front with us, felt it too. He was probably already nervous about it.

Our new bus driver was a skinny man and I looked him over as he stood by the front door of our bus. I wondered if he had noticed my black buddy as he climbed up to take his seat to drive. He soon cleared up that matter. He positioned himself in front of us and looked the black sailor in the eye. All doubt was removed as he spoke. He said, using common and offensive language, “N-----r, you’re in Oklahoma now. Get your black a--to the back of this bus and do it now.” I was surprised by the cussing and his use of the “N” word. But my marine friend explained quickly to the driver that our service buddy was an honorable member of our countries armed forces and if he wanted him to be moved, then he would have two other members of said force to deal with. The driver stared, then wavered and said, “I’m going to get the police.” He did too and when he returned with two cops, they stood outside the bus talking. I could not hear what they said, and I wondered how I was going to get out of jail. I wondered too just how I was going to get to Stonewall. The time dragged by as the uniformed trio continued to talk and point. You could tell it was a lively discussion and I could not see how we could win. The old Marine looked us over and told us to just hang on. “We ain’t moving. We’re in the right here.”

Finally, our driver left. He was in a tizzy but there we still sat. The cops finally sauntered off a ways and then a man in a tie boarded the bus and told us to just relax, we would have a new driver in a minute. He was right. The new guy got on and without even a hello took his seat and drove us out of Oklahoma City. And I know that all three of us made it home to family and friends for Christmas. Regardless of race. But it did cause me to remember something. Proverbs. 29-23. “A Humble spirit will obtain honor.” Since that time when I think of that old Marine, I remember him as humble and honorable.

Hope your next week is honorable and humble is not bad either. I like to hear from my readers.

Wayne Bullard, DPh cwaynebullard@gmail.com