Soldiers marching from Camp Logan, Texas circa 1917.

The United States Army recently overturned the convictions of 110 black soldiers for offenses committed during a 1917 mutiny in Houston, Texas. The supposed reason? Racism, of course. The Army Board for Correction of Military Records recommended this action and, on November 13, Secretary of the Army Christine Wormuth gave it her blessing:

After a thorough review, the Board has found that these Soldiers were wrongly treated because of their race and were not given fair trials. By setting aside their convictions and granting honorable discharges, the Army is acknowledging past mistakes and setting the record straight.

Of the 110 convicted in military courts, 19 were hanged as a result of their involvement in a race riot. Hangings? Race riots? We can see where this is going. If one accepts the anti-white, anti-Southern narrative of American history that is so prominent these days, the story is rather straightforward: brave and patriotic black soldiers falling victim to backward, hateful whites and then railroaded by a rigged court system. At a ceremony held to commemorate the reversal of the convictions, black Texas Congressman Al Green endorsed this narrative when he proclaimed that “[w]e must ensure that the sacrifice and the suffering of the black soldiers of the 24th Infantry Regiment inspire us to fight for a more equitable, just, and inclusive America.”

But, contra Congressman Green, the real story of the black soldiers’ role in the Houston riot is far from inspiring. Members of the 24th Infantry were guilty of the racially-motivated murder of 15 white Houstonians, seven of whom were civilians. The troops were not trying to quell a race riot; they were the race riot. Thanks to Secretary Wormuth and Undersecretary Gabe Camarillo, the story of the riot is being retold. Their new version, while certainly in accordance with the anti-white narrative, is at odds with the historical record.

Fortunately, the facts of the Houston Riot are readily available. Professor Robert V. Haynes was the author of A Night of Violence, a 1976 book about the riot. During the summer of 1917, approximately 650 black soldiers of the Third Battalion of the 24th Infantry Regiment were stationed at Camp Logan, not far from Houston. From the start there was tension between the troops and the Houston police department. On August 23, Private Alonzo Edwards attempted to interfere with the arrest of a black woman, and was then himself arrested. Later, Corporal Charles Baltimore questioned two Houston police officers regarding Edwards’ whereabouts — and was hit over the head by one of them. This same officer, whose last name was Sparks, then allegedly shot at Baltimore as he attempted to flee, though Sparks claimed he was not aiming at Baltimore when he fired but rather at the ground in order to intimidate him. Regardless, this was unacceptable behavior on Officer Sparks’ part.

Cpl. Baltimore’s mistreatment, egregious as it was, does not explain or excuse the subsequent behavior exhibited by the soldiers that night, however. Houston Police Chief Clarence Brock dropped all charges against Edwards and Baltimore, suspended Sparks, and reminded Captain Haig Shekerjian that the military had the option of pressing charges against Sparks. Here is how Haynes, in an article for the Texas State Historical Association, described the mood in the aftermath of Cpl. Baltimore’s arrest:

Though he was soon released, a rumor quickly reached Camp Logan that he had been shot and killed. A group of soldiers decided to march on the police station in the Fourth Ward and secure his release. If the police could assault a model soldier like Baltimore, they reasoned, none of them was safe from abuse. Maj. Kneeland S. Snow, battalion commander, initially discounted the news of impending trouble. Around 8 P.M. Sgt. Vida Henry of I Company confirmed the rumors, and Kneeland ordered the first sergeants to collect all rifles and search the camp for loose ammunition.

But, moments later, all hell broke loose. As Haynes writes:

During this process, a soldier suddenly screamed that a White [sic] mob was approaching the camp. Black soldiers rushed into the supply tents, grabbed rifles, and began firing wildly in the direction of supposed mob. The White [sic] officers found it impossible to restore order.

There was no white mob heading toward Camp Logan. At that point, there wasn’t a reason for white Houstonians to confront the black soldiers. Furthermore, it would have been absurd for a mob of agitated civilians to march on a military installation that was home to 650 soldiers of the United States Army. Yet, despite the fact that none of them had actually seen such a mob (because it didn’t exist), the excited soldiers continued to fire their weapons for “almost fifteen minutes,” and in many cases unknowingly fired at each other. After that debacle, Sgt. Vida Henry took charge, disregarded his superiors’ orders, and led an assault against the local white population. Henry was fully aware that rumors of Baltimore’s death were false. In fact, Baltimore, who had returned to Camp Logan hours before, was among those leading the mutiny. The march was not an attempt to free Baltimore, but a campaign of racial terrorism against innocent whites living near the camp. As Haynes explains:

Sergeant Henry led over 100 armed soldiers toward downtown Houston by way of Brunner Avenue and San Felipe Street and into the Fourth Ward. In their two-hour march on the city, the mutinous Blacks [sic] killed fifteen Whites [sic], including four policemen, and seriously wounded twelve others, one of whom, a policeman, subsequently died. Four Black [sic] soldiers also died. Two were accidentally shot by their own men, one in camp and the other on San Felipe Street. After they had killed Capt. Joseph Mattes of the Illinois National Guard, obviously mistaking him for a policeman, the Blacks [sic] began quarreling over a course of action. After two hours, Henry advised the men to slip back into camp in the darkness — and shot himself in the head.

A multitude of atrocities against white civilians are detailed in A Night of Violence, and I will recount just a few of them here. The first white victim of the black mutineers was E. M. Jones, who was the driver of a passing car. When soldiers fired “at least twenty rounds” into the car, they killed Jones and injured passenger Charles T. Clayton so severely that one of his arms needed to be amputated. Later, they stopped an ambulance being driven by Henry Bradshaw, called him a “God damn white . . . son of a bitch” and then fired shots over his head as he and two passengers fled on foot. Adam R. Carstens was shot and killed as he was walking down the street toward his house. White teenager Earl Finley was shot and then beaten to death by soldiers while sitting in the front seat of his car, while another car was intentionally left alone because there were “colored people in it.” Yet, these inconvenient details did not stop the Undersecretary of the Army, Gabe Camirillo, from declaring at last week’s ceremony that the mutineers “were marching in their own self-defense.” His words represent a sickening distortion of the events of that night and an insult to the riot’s real victims.

Like so many institutions, the United States military has been co-opted by anti-white ideologues. The Department of Defense receives tens of millions of dollars to teach its soldiers about how awful white people supposedly are. And yet, it still wants white men and women to fight its wars. But the wicked American Regime is not worth one drop of white blood. This shameful effort to transform criminals into martyrs makes that crystal clear. Our primary loyalty must never be to the regime, but to our people. As for the jackals who currently wield power, we owe them precisely the same degree of loyalty that they have shown toward us.

Notes

Robert V. Haynes, A Night of Violence: The Houston Riot of 1917 (Baton Rouge, La.: Louisiana State University Press, 1976), p. 97.

Ibid., p. 101.

Ibid., p. 124.

Ibid., p. 128.

Ibid., p. 131.

Ibid., p. 132.

Ibid., p. 133.

Ibid., p. 146.