Soon after the government announced registration, or the conscription of the fifth of June, we heard the mistaken views and interpretations circulating among our people. The alarm and mass confusion did great harm to the Mexican American community of Texas. Mexican Americans were certainly not the only ones who tried to evade registration, and we insist that they may have had good cause or at least a better reason than young men of other races. We are convinced that fear was not the cause during those confusing times, but a bad misunderstanding that has never been resolved. Without fear of erring much, two groups of citizens avoided or tried to evade military service in 1917 and 1918. Some were illiterate people who never attended schools in Texas, either because of their own failings or, frankly speaking, because they were never fully and equally accepted in the schools “for whites.” They never had the opportunity to learn the meaning of patriotism, the sense of truly loving their flag and country. It is unreasonable to ask them to fight and die for something they do not understand. When the time to make a decision was upon us, it was too late to help them understand. The sense of duty to country begins when a person exercises independent reasoning. Everyone understands that this is the way we should engage life. We demonstrated it when we served in combat and survived. We gave ample proof of the longstanding martial qualities of the “American Race.”
The second group of slackers included those few who knew enough to feel justly embittered (an understandable response to callous racial prejudice) about being denied the opportunities necessary to live like other deserving, self-respecting citizens in our nation. We vehemently disagreed with this view. That was not the time to air grievances and to try to dissuade grown people from continuing with their long-standing and hostile practices against us. These people have been unscrupulous politicians, small-minded citizens, and Mexican-hating individuals who have offended our racial pride, our dignity, and love of the homeland. They have also thought little about the consequences.
German or pro-German propaganda contributed to our distress during the recruiting days. German spies or sympathizers to the German cause laid the seeds of discord and encouraged disloyalty among Mexican Americans. This explains why many Mexicans and Mexican Americans left. Their escape to Mexico created two problems: the scarcity of farmworkers and accusations of disloyalty. It was impossible to make our own see the error of their ways. We were divided when we should have stood together, like we are known to do when we have a clear understanding of our patriotic duty.
I was teaching in Dittlinger, Comal County, on the memorable fifth of June. I did not register that day because I had done it a week earlier. Government officials advised us to register early, but not after the fifth. I confess that I acted in good faith when I picked up my registration forms before the fifth of June and the county secretary challenged me. He asked me a number of questions that I believe I answered correctly. I detected a marked irony and sarcasm in him during our short conversation. He asked, “Will you be afraid if sent to the trenches in France?” I answered, “I do not have a reason to be afraid. I know that I am expected to do this. Moreover, since it is a matter of honor to go and defend our star spangled banner, I believe that our Anglo compatriots, who always keep the best for themselves, would not deny us the same opportunity. If they are now accepting the sons of a race that they have always considered incapable of such noble sacrifice, then start counting me in.” “You are talking too much,” he concluded. I ended the conversation by stating, “You are the one who is asking too many questions.”
So much hardship was heaped on us that few people noticed the large number of volunteers who presented themselves to fill the void left by the “slackers” of all races and colors. The public could not distinguish between the conscientious objectors and the people who did not fill out the confusing registration forms because they did not understand the requirements. Many people focused on some Mexican Americans who avoided military service and proceeded to judge the rest of us through the unjust lens of prejudice. How many of them have changed their minds? How many of them can now grant us justice, now that they have seen the obvious and important evidence in the telegram I reproduce below:
San Diego, Texas
April 30, 1917
General John J. Pershing
Commanding General
Fort Sam Houston, Texas
PLEASE TELEGRAPH THE APPROPRIATE OFFICIALS TO ENLIST COMPANIES OF SPANISH-SPEAKING BOYS.
FELIPE GARCÍA1
Adjutant General, Headquarters2
Department of the South
Fort Sam Houston, Texas
May 1, 1917
Mr. Felipe García
San Diego, Texas
Dear Sir:
General Pershing has directed me to acknowledge receipt of your telegram of April 30th and to express his appreciation for the offer contained therein, but at present there is no requirement to enlist volunteer companies.
Your telegram will be placed on file and should the current law change, your offer will be given due consideration.
Very Sincerely Yours,
RALPH HARRISON
Lieutenant Colonel, General Secretary
This is an impressive response by one of our own just twenty-four days after the declaration of war against Germany. García not only offered to serve but also to organize entire companies of members of our raza, all volunteers. That is how some of us, the sons of the maligned Duval County, responded.
These were the circumstances when I realized that I would be among the “honorably selected.” I stayed with my family during the month of June, after I had notified the post office clerk of my new address. I also notified the county judge and the sheriff and wrote them again from my new residence.
The first call was made during August and September, but I did not receive a notice. When November arrived, President Woodrow Wilson was making great offers to anyone who volunteered. I was given the opportunity—at an unfortunate moment—to find a way to detach myself from my civilian obligations so that I could defend the national honor, personal principles, ideas, or perhaps only someone else’s capital, etc., but all for the nation.
I wrote Washington to offer my services and received a courteous and standard response expressing appreciation for my good intentions, but was informed that I had been called in August and that they could not understand why I was not already in the military. What followed was very important. I was relieved that I could show that I was not responsible for the mistake thanks to the early decision that I had made in notifying officials of my change of address.
I filled out the dreaded questionnaire during the last days of December. While others may have been dishonest in their responses to secure an exemption, some of us welcomed the opportunity to join the military. I received a small card from the New Braunfels Draft Board on January 4, 1918, informing me that they had classified me Class “A” and first class. I received another card on the twelfth ordering me to appear at New Braunfels for a physical examination. A few days later, I learned that I was fit for military service.
FLORENCIO HERAS
Lencho, as we always called him, was another victim. Injustice, possibly based on racial prejudice, dug its bestial claws on that poor and defenseless man of the soil. He was unjustly forced into military service. In the first place, Lencho was not the person they sought. Also, Lencho was a minor, as is evident in the following document that I copy:
BAPTISMAL CERTIFICATE
Florencio Heras,
Son of Felipe Heras and Exiquia Conzález, born in Alice, Texas, on the 9th day of April of 1898; baptized on the 24th of January of 1904, in accordance with the rites of the Roman Catholic Church, at the Church of Saint Francis de Paula in San Diego, Texas, by the Rev. S. P. Bard. Godparents: Eudoxio Villarreal and Anastasia García.
According to the Registry of this church, page 313—Book VI.
February 8, 1933
Rev. Fr. Eloy Suárez, O. P.
Note: The date of February 8, 1933, refers to the date when the certificate was released. It shows that Florencio Heras was barely nineteen years, ten months, and eighteen days when he died on February 26, 1918, after having served in the military for a good amount of time.
Another Florencio Heras had lived in Benavides, but he had failed to comply with the registration law and left for Mexico. Our government officials were either overzealous in their vigilance over military duty or they may have wanted to collect the fifty dollars for every “slacker” they rounded up. They caught young Lencho during the early morning hours as he was frying some potatoes for breakfast.
His railroad boss, an Anglo and “a friend of the Mexicans,” knew he was a minor but forced him to register by threatening to take away his job. Lencho had to work to support Gumersinda, his oldest sister who had raised him since he was a young boy. He worked at the Alfred railroad section.3
Someone had told him, “Lencho, the Americans do not like us. If you do not go to Mexico they will take you as a draftee even if you are under age. He never showed fear before the Germans in Europe, but he understood how easy it was for his fellow armed citizens to act unjustly. Lencho committed the high crime of joining the “slackers” and tried to leave for Mexico. These were unforgivable offenses to his enemies. They had the perfect excuse to wash their hands like Pontius Pilate and collect fifty dollars.
This is how the “Texan dragnet” reached the doors of his poor home as Lencho prepared his potatoes “a la française.” He did not even have time to take the skillet off the stove, or to defend himself. The “rinches” placed two very good handcuffs on him and took him to Corpus Christi. He was still there when his brother Eugenio took him his baptismal record to see if this could help him. The “rinches” told him, “That piece of paper is worthless. What is this, everyone now wants to save himself with a baptismal certificate?”4 They took him to Fort Worth and from there to our shores where he was placed on the ill-fated Tuscania that the Germans sank off the Irish coast.5
Lencho’s life ended this way, a victim of fate and racial prejudice. Uncle Sam, true to his word, has been making restitution in the amount of $10,000 for a soldier lost in action. The death of the innocent, underage citizen, and the tyrannical abuse brought upon his poor, peaceful home, still has to be paid. An unrelenting voice cries out for justice.
Sixto Flores and another compatriot named Garza from Alice also died on the Tuscania.
As this was unfolding, I could see that things were turning serious. I decided that I would always remember this. The anti-Mexican views in Texas offended me, but I was hungry for adventure and accustomed to hard times. I welcomed anything, dared everything. How could this improve our situation? I did not know, I did not care to know, but I knew that in the midst of the ruinous world war it was necessary to show everyone that I was a true representative of our people.
I reported for my physical examination at New Braunfels. It was terribly cold at five in the morning when I had to take a passenger train from Leming. The hour-long wait seemed like a year. I was in deep thought during the one-hour trip to San Antonio. I was not riding for pleasure and the trip did not bring me peace of mind. My departure held unimaginable surprises. I was eating breakfast in San Antonio at fifteen past six.
I had time to see my sister and my little nephew—family members I also support—but I did not visit them because I did not want to alarm them.
I joined with a fellow traveler of German origin in San Antonio and discovered that he was also going to New Braunfels for his examination. We were the first to arrive at the post office, where we were examined. We were also the first to wait for word from the board.
I finished my business early and had enough time to visit some friends. I wanted to go to Dittlinger. Mr. Hermenegildo Luna, a good friend of mine, took me on his little express that he uses to take goods to his small store at “Las Caleras.”6 I ate at his good home and, like always, received the warmest attention from his family and friends who were from this place. I paid my respects to most of my friends and later visited the cherished school and the dear children I had taught during the previous school term.7 I have given the best years of my life to the education of our children. I struggled much in Dittlinger and I could not help but feel sympathy for the children who are abandoned, unappreciated, ignored, and, worse, misunderstood. I was bitterly disappointed to hear that our people expected little from the school that year. Despite this, a flash of hope came to me. Everything would improve once we met the awaiting sacrifice. That was one of the reasons why we joined in the war effort. I thought the sacrifice would bring them a better and happier life.
My unexpected visit was so important. It was so full of possibilities for our future. At four in the afternoon, I took the fast train that runs from Houston to San Antonio. Mr. Rafael Cantú offered to see me off at the railroad station. I stayed in San Antonio that night until eleven and visited my sister and my little nephew Samuel. I shared all that had happened and then left for Leming.
The German who took the examination with me said he had secured an exemption because he had to help his parents with ranch work. The same board had decided I was fit for military service. I see no injustice since I volunteered to serve.
I was responsible for a small public school in the town of San Agustín in Atascosa County. I realized that I might serve and had notified the school board and my students’ parents.8
On Friday, February 22, I received the famous card on behalf of the Honorable President Wilson which informed me of the high honor the nation was bestowing on me as a citizen. I was to defend it and follow the star spangled banner to France or any other part of the world where I might be sent. The message, as brief as it was significant and urgent, did not give me time to meet all my responsibilities with members of the school board who had entrusted me with the education of their children that year. My school closed without the customary ceremonies. I barely had time to prepare the following muddled farewell:
TO MY STUDENTS
My dear students: This is definitely our last day of school. You will start your vacation once I have gathered the texts that the government has supplied us. Rest, and have fun. I hope you enjoy the long period that follows. You will be free of classes and the required study.
I cannot say the same for me. I do not know what the future holds, but I can assure you that I will witness grand events, a thousand and one yet unknown sights, and I hope to return to tell you everything. Next Monday, at eleven in the morning, I will become part of the militia that will defend our country.
Until now, I have used pencil and pen to wage trying battles for the educational advancement of our people. You will soon hear that I am holding a rifle in the very trenches of France and upholding our people’s pride for the glory and honor of our flag.
I do not know if you will have to follow me. I hope not. But if you do, I hope that my example helps you to be brave and strong enough to free yourself from everything that is dear on earth—the sweet peace, your homes, and your families.
I am not going on an excursion, I know that the life that awaits me will be difficult, the most demanding that I will have experienced, but I do not think it will be as difficult as Washington’s crossing of the Delaware and his stay at Valley Forge. If it becomes just as difficult, so much the better, it will be a greater honor for our people. Long live Washington! Long live the star spangled banner! Long live our raza!
The need to answer my nation’s call required that I leave my teaching position.
I barely had enough time to submit the report of the school’s closing and to secure my pay for the last days that I had worked. I said my good-byes to a few friends from Jourdanton and Pleasanton.
Sunday, February 24
Today was my last day at my San Agustín home. As expected, my departure saddened my family. The hours passed more quickly than usual despite my wishes to the contrary. I would have wanted to have the power of Jason to claim more hours on that day. I had a few instructions for my wife since I was also severing my family obligations. Our government was assuming them. We are only responsible for faithfully serving our country.
I left the responsibility of my children to the care of my loving companion who was enduring everything with stoic resignation. The supreme moment to leave finally arrived. No one can describe the deep sadness in our intimate moments, but I know that they are indelibly marked inside everyone who was to fight in the war. The survivors will always remember the farewells with tears of joy.
I gave my last embrace to my loved ones at two in the morning. My father-in-law accompanied me to the station at Leming where I boarded the train to New Braunfels.
The “Prologue” to my “My Personal Diary” includes everything that I consider important to describe the spirit with which I entered the military, which I could have avoided according to the conscription law.9