This is edited re-post of a previously published article.

November 11th is Veterans Day in the United States. It is a day which initially honored the end of World War I (“the war to end all wars”). The purpose of the day was later amended in 1954 by Public Law 380 to honor all veterans of all wars, whether living or dead (unlike Memorial Day which honors only our war dead).

On this day, a small American flag will be placed on my father’s grave at Baltimore National Cemetery and TAPS will be played at 11 AM local time. My Dad was among the first African-Americans to serve in the Marine Corps during World War II. The Marine Corps was the last service to accept African-Americans for duty and only did so because the Commandant of the Marine Corps at the time, Major General Holcomb, was directed by the President to do it.  Major General Holcomb had stated that Blacks had no place in the organization he headed. “If it were a question of having a Marine Corps of 5,000 whites or 250,000 Negroes,” he said, “I would rather have the whites.”

Thus, my father found himself in a profoundly segregated Marine Corps back then (as was the nation), with its own separate boot camp at Montford Point, NC, led by all white officers. Those who served in this Corps were primarily stewards, typist or ammunitions drivers.

My Dad?

He was a steward and served in the Pacific theatre.  He rose, as my Mom would later tell me, “to the highest rank a Negro could achieve in his specialty at that time.” He was discharged at the end of the war as an E-3 in a rank structure that went to E-7 (if you weren’t Black). My Dad’s service medals are at the right.

My Dad didn’t live long enough to see me join the Marine Corps twenty-two years after he was discharged. He never knew that I went into a racially integrated Marine Corps or that I rose to the top of the enlisted ladder (E-9). He never knew that I led and was led by Marines of all colors, ethnic groups and gender. All he knew was that he wanted to be a Marine and make a contribution to his country at war. He lived in a world where people of color couldn’t attend school, eat at a lunch counter, drink from the same water fountain or sit in the same area in a movie theater or on a bus as a white person. But his country needed him to fight for the freedom of others while it denied him those same freedoms at home. He answered his nation’s call and because of what he did in the earliest days of desegregating the Marine Corps, it allowed me to do the things I would do years later.

Let me be clear: the Marine Corps wasn’t perfect when I came in, but it was better than when my father was in and it was better still when I left. Today, the Deputy Commandant for Plans, Policies and Operations at Headquarters, U.S. Marine Corps is an African-American. The Sergeant Major of the 24th Marine Expeditionary Unit (MEU), a combat unit,  is a woman. Minorities and women are a part of the Marine Corps’ fabric and history in ways Major General Holcomb couldn’t have possibly envisioned. And his Corps, my Corps, is better for it.

On this day, my nation will honor my father’s memory for his service to his country. The honors rendered to him will not have an asterisk assigned to them marking his service as being separate and unequal. He will receive the same honors accorded all of the veterans who came before and after him. I will proudly join in the honoring of his memory. Not just because he was my Dad and a fellow Marine, but because he was one of those quiet heroes President Obama spoke of who helped blaze a trail more than seventy-two years ago that I and others would later follow; and in turn, challenged us to take up the mantle of widening the path into a highway for those who would follow us.

Veterans Day honors him and gives me a chance to thank him for his service. “Thanks, Dad…for all that you did.”