Showing posts with label Army. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Army. Show all posts

Friday, April 27, 2012

Vivianna Week, Day Twelve: My Daughters Catrina & Vivianna





Vivianna Week, Day Twelve: My Daughters Catrina & Vivianna

When I first decided to do a memorial for my daughter Vivianna, I wasn’t really expecting that one week tribute to turn into two. I’m glad that it did because over the past two weeks I have been able to see the different forms of love and family and it has filled me with such a joy that I know Vivianna was sufficiently honored. Losing Vivianna so shortly after losing Christopher, I never thought I would, nor did I ever want to, have any more children. The grief and the heartache was just too much. The hardest thing was the people that I expected to be there for me, family and friends alike, had disappeared into thin air. I had Angel, Justin and Ryan and they were very much my family, but that was it. Grief and death, sad moments, and moments of what my Granny Mary called “trial by fire” really helps you to see exactly who is in your corner as you fight the fight of life.
That next year, after having the doctor tell me that it seemed as if my body was not equipped to carry a child (now I can totally say “duh” to that), I went home to soak in the garden tub in my new home and cry over the fact that it was official. I was defective, flawed, my body rejected babies, contracting rather than expanding to allow the zygote to become a fetus and the fetus to become a baby to be born. I got a phone call from Sarah, a friend of mine at the time, and she told me about Catrina, a young lady who was 11 at the time, who needed a place to stay.
I won’t go into detail about why Catrina needed a place to stay, that’s not my story to tell, but Sarah said to me, “She really only needs a place for like two weeks maybe, but she needs you.” When I told Sarah yes and then told her about what the doctor said she told me that this was God at work. He was giving me a child after the doctor told me that I wouldn’t have one.
I knew Catrina through Sarah and had always been drawn to the young girl. I wanted to see her smile and hear her laugh (she sounds like a Chipmunk when she laughs and talks), and protect her, because you could look at Catrina and see that she had a heartbreaking story to tell.
Catrina came to stay with me and when two weeks turned into me getting guardianship of her (at 23), I got the chance to be a parent and she got the chance to have a real parent that loved her and took care of her, etc. It was, for us, the perfect set-up.
I learned about disciplining a child, the worry that comes when they’re not in your sight, I found out that I was the overprotective parent who looks at everyone who looks at my child as a suspect, until proven innocent. I also found out that I could be the fun parent. Catrina and I would spend hours listening to music as I taught her how to walk like a model. We would watch “Reba,” play games, color in coloring books together, watch movies, and I always, always did everything that I could to make her smile and laugh. We had two dogs for a while, when we still lived in our house, and she was so good about taking care of them.
I was proud as I watched her grades soar from B’s and C’s to straight A’s. I was happy as she went from only eating frozen chicken nuggets, to trying different kinds of food, to working out and staying healthy. I was ecstatic when I watched her go from a shy, introverted child to trying out for sports at school, getting involved in after school activities, making friends, painting, drawing, sketching (and boy is my baby talented), and getting involved in the community right alongside me.
Enlisting in the Army was one of the hardest things for me to do because I ended up having to return Catrina to her grandmother, since her grandmother wouldn’t sign over her parental rights to me. I cried that night when I had to say goodbye to my daughter and it felt like I was losing Vivianna all over again. Catrina and I kept in touch and to me, and to her and those who knew us at that time, she was still my child and I was still her parent.
So Vivianna Week has not only made me think of the child that I lost, but it makes me think of the child that I still have, even if it’s long distance. Catrina is smart and talented, my special ball of sunshine and being her parent is one of my proudest accomplishments. She doesn’t care that her dad is gay, she thinks I’m cool (though she thinks that her Aunties Cherie and MJ and her Grandpa Aleks are “freaking awesome”), and she has every faith in me that I will be successful and that I love her. She knows that I do and I know that love is returned. She remembers our time together fondly, as do I. She regularly brings up me singing her to sleep and reading bedtime stories to her and the day that I pretended to be in a musical, just to make her laugh (and let me tell you something, making up songs at the spur of the moment, is not easy at all). I remember those times as well, but I also remember taking care of her while she was sick. Buying her a tv as a reward for her good grades. Introducing her to my Granny Mary for the first time and watching the two of them connect and fall in love with each other (my Granny never stopped asking me about my sweet daughter). I remember the day that I had to return her and the tears that we both shared. I remember the day, a year and a half later when I had to go to the hospital with her, because she was pregnant and having pains and bleeding. I was scared and freaked out. Afraid that I would have to watch my child go through what I went through. I was ecstatic that she didn’t miscarry though I was grieved that I would become a grandparent so early and she would become a parent so young.
So while I lost Vivianna, I know that she would be happy to know that she has an older sister, Catrina, and a nephew named Hayden. I know that she would love them both and they would love her in return. It hurts that I lost her, but I’m almost positive that she led me to Catrina, who needed me more than she did and whom I needed just as much.
So, while tomorrow is the last day of Vivianna Week and I thank all of those who wrote posts, those who commented, those who wrote private emails to me letting me know that they were sorry that they couldn’t write a post but they still wanted to share a personal story with me and wanted to encourage me (mc-I’m talking about you), I say thank you. Thank you from the bottom of this gay man’s heart for your constant support and encouragement, for your love for your families, for the lessons that you taught, the memories that you shared. Thank you for helping me honor Vivianna, even if all you did was retweet a link or leave a comment. I appreciate you so very, very much. You have all become, in one way or another, family and close friends to me and it means more than I could ever put into words.
Thank you again.

Vicktor Aleksandr B

Monday, October 31, 2011

The Virgin Special Forces

*I decided to share this on both of my blogs because I'm sort of excited about it now.

I am shaking my fist at Matt and Brad mentally as I write this.*

So, everyone knows that I used to be in the Army.  (What do you mean you didn't know?  It's a well known fact!)

And at some point I was a virgin (Although it was so long ago that I'm beginning to doubt it ever truly existed).

So when my "little brothers" Matt and Brad (of the 2 Boys in Love blog) put up a post about "losing" their virginity I was equal parts intrigued and slightly "cringey" (yes cringey is a word...I'm making it one), because you know, they're like my little brothers.  LOL.

Anyway, so when I went to read their post today and then saw the words: Virgin Special Forces, my mind, through no further enticement, jumped on the title AND the idea and I saw a group of guys, ten maybe, who are all in the military together, five of which are gay virgins, who are deployed to Iraq and how those five guys lose their virginity.

Sounds interesting huh?

I think so too (Damn you Matt and Brad for giving me MORE inspiration to write).

So rather than spending my day watching horror movies all day (*sigh* Halloween).  I will be drafting up the books for The VSF Series, which I of course will have to dedicate to JayHJay and Matt and Brad.

And so you can see how quickly my brain works with these things, here's the first part of book one's chapter one.  Called, The Alpha Team:


"I'm losing my virginity to him before this week is over or I'm going to throw myself in front of the next suicide bomber and just be done with the whole thing," Luke pouted before throwing himself onto his cot in frustration.  He heard the other members of his platoon laugh and huffed in frustration before rolling over to stare up at the ceiling.


"Still pining away for the Sergeant, huh O'Malley?" Luke's best friend Traven Anderson snickered from the cot next to his.  Turning his head to look at Traven, Luke gave into his childish urge and stuck out his tongue.


"Hey O'Malley.  Try not to go waving that thing around unless you plan on using it," Francis Trout, their platoon leader grinned from the floor where he lay doing one-handed push ups.


Show off, Luke thought to himself, before turning his attention back to Traven.  "You don't understand," he whined, feeling his cock thicken at the thought of their Commanding Officer, First Sergeant Connor Wilkins.  The man was a walking wet dream.  Standing at six foot six, his black hair cut in a buzz cut, his blue eyes dark as twilight, his body broad and hugely muscled and his voice...


Luke shivered with uncontrollable desire.  "He is the sexiest man alive and he has no idea that he is.  I just want to lick him from head to toe and then bend over and ask him to ride me hard and fast," Luke confided in his best friend moments before he heard the loud bellow of the man in question, calling for bunk inspection and he leaped to his feet and brought his body to attention, immediately.


His eyes drank in the sight of First Sergeant Wilkins as the man strode down the line looking over everyone's bunks as he passed.  This was their last bunk inspection before they were deployed to Iraq on Sunday and he didn't want to fail this one like he'd failed all of the others.  He glanced surreptitiously at First Sergeant Wilkins from the corner of his eyes as the man stepped closer to him, his gaze taking in his ever movement.  He watched as the larger man stopped in front of him, standing close to him as he looked at his bunk before glancing down at him sternly.


"It's about damn time O'Malley.  You finally learned how to pass a bunk inspection," he stated, his voice low and next to Luke's ear.


"I wanted to make sure I showed you that I know how to handle a bunk, sir," Luke replied breathlessly, holding his First Sergeant's gaze steadily, even though his heart pounded in his chest.  He watched as First Sergeant Wilkins's eyes darkened with desire before clearing as if someone had placed a wall in front of them.  He held onto his barely controlled desire with two clenched fists as he watched his CO finish the inspections before declaring that everyone passed and striding out without another word...and without glancing in his direction again.


As soon as the door closed behind him, Luke sank to his bed, his body trembling.


"Oh my god," he breathed.


"Damn O'Malley.  I thought you and First Sergeant Wilkins were about to start fucking like animals right in front of us," Phillip Roan, another member of the unofficially named "Virgin Special Forces," stated with a grin.


Luke smiled back at Phillip, who hi-fived his twin brother Peter, and collapsed backwards onto his bed again.  "By the end of this week, I swear I'm losing my virginity to him," he declared.


~~**~~                             ~~**~~


Leaning against the wall outside of the barracks, Connor Wilkins grinned wolfishly.  So Luke O'Malley wanted to lose his virginity huh?  Well, Connor would give him what he wanted, and maybe a little more than he bargained for as well.




So there you go.  The Virgin Special Forces has been started in my mind and I can already tell that I'm going to enjoy writing Connor and Luke's story.

Happy Reading and Happy Halloween!!

{HUGZ, SQUEEZES, FIST BUMPS AND SALUTES!}

Vic

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

DADT Repealed, Jack at Work, Snooping & Writing

Okay so unless you live under a rock (which would be weird because you're reading my blog and I don't think you can get internet reception under a rock) you know that Don't Ask, Don't Tell has been repealed (YIPPEE!).  Now as you all know I am an Army vet (yes, I love to point that out to people) and when I served in the Army one of the things that they hammered into us was the USMCJ (United States Military Code of Justice) and how violating one of those "codes" could get you an Article 15 (which is like a misdemeanor), an Article 17 (which is like a felony) or an Article 13 (which will get you dishonorably discharged-I believe those are the numbers, can't really remember.  I remember the Article 15 though, I got threatened with that....A LOT).  So if someone brought charges or made a complaint that you approached them to have homosexual relations or if you were caught have homosexual relations (yes, it says relations and not sex in the book, because the word sex is too vulgar...you know for the officers that make you say "fuck you" when doing pushups) you got an automatic dishonorable discharge, after the bogus trial you'd have to endure.  Now, it was the same thing for those who committed adultery as well.  The MPs (Military Police) would come and arrest you and put you in holding (the Navy calls it the brig) until your trial where you'd be court-martialed.
Now when I served, I would say that 65% of the females in my barracks were having sex with each other and about 50% of the males.  How do I know?  Well, I would hear the girls, I'd see them in the shower, washing each other, they'd sneak off to the showers while everyone else was sleeping (I'm a light sleeper, it's what made me such a good soldier) and have sex.  It was the same for the guys.  How do I know that?  My Army boyfriend.  He was half Italian, half Sicilian *shiver*, he was the only one who knew about my strap-ons that I'd smuggled onto base and into the barracks (they are considered contraband) and he was the first guy that I slept with in basic training (what?  You think we didn't?  There's a very nice SSG out there who still smiles at the mention of my name.  LOL).
The point is, covert "homosexual relations" have been going on since the inception of the the fucking military, but, there's no threat of punishment.  Now they can be just as open and free to love and fuck around as everyone else without that stupid USMCJ hanging over their heads.  I am SO excited for them all!!  And I'm going to share with you the email I got from said Army boyfriend from ^:
                  B*****(he used my last name, sorry you don't get that)!!  Did you hear?  Tell me you heard!!  I'm so excited I feel like wrapping my flag around me and running through the base and I'm not talking about the American flag!  I wish you were here to celebrate with all of us.  Sucks that you're not, but I heard through the grapevine that you're becoming a man.  That's great!  When you do, you should get surgery on your back and hip and reenlist there are some GORGEOUS guys that are enlisting these days.  Love you honey!  And here's one for the road!
Then he sent me a very special picture.  LOL.  Which is of course when Jack walked out of the bathroom and saw what I was looking at.

So,as you all may now, after my scary Sunday, I've been at Jack's, he's been taking very good care of me and reading blogs, reading m/m books, watching LOGO, it's been great, but he had to go to work today, so I'm left at his place while he goes to make money (Woohoo!).  Anyway, this morning I woke up to Jack working out.  He was doing push-ups on the floor.
With one hand.
The man is a fucking god....well, that too.  LOL
Anyway, apparently I make audible noises when I'm turned on (who knew?) and I like moaned and he heard me, which led to a wonderful morning, but I fell back asleep immediately afterwards (it was a quick doze) and by the time Jack came out of the shower I was commenting on blogs, checking on GR, responding to emails and procrastinating on my writing (I get better at that every day).  So Jack sees the picture and he says: "That's not mine."  LOL.  Um...duh!  So I tell him whose on it is and he says "Does he know you have a boyfriend?"  And I'm like "Do I?"  I was TOTALLY just teasing!  Jack didn't know that and he just sort of looks at me, so I apologize, tell him I was joking and he just sort of nods, grabs his stuff for work and says he'll see me when he gets home.
*Sigh*

So after he leaves I decide to do a bit of snooping.  I'm going into every room and looking around, checking out the kitchen, the living room, the backyard.  Nothing interesting.  I mean I wasn't like doing a FBI search or anything, just sort of walking into each room, standing in one spot and then turning to check out everything.  I didn't see anything out of the ordinary.  So I gave up and now I am laying on the couch in the living room, the tv on mute, Billie Holiday playing on the stereo and blogging you guys.

I should be writing.  I wrote some new stuff for "D & R" on Sunday but today?  My brain has gone silent.  It's quite unnerving.  So I'm going to read Clear Water by Amy Lane and hope that the juices start flowing soon, because I promised Jack I'd get some writing done today and I always keep my promises.

Saturday, September 10, 2011

10 Years Ago-A 9/11 Tribute from a US Army Vet

I hadn't planned on doing a tribute blog.

Not because I wasn't going to mourn, but because I would be.

Then I had a friend of mine from college send me two videos that she found on Youtube and dedicated in an email to one of our college roommates that passed away while serving over in Iraq.

Halfway through the first video I was trapped in memories of the day that 9/11 happened and by the time the video was over I was sobbing.  I'm still crying.

I was only 17 when 9/11 happened.  A freshman at the University of South Florida, I was excited about finally being an adult and being on my own.  USF is fairly close to MacDill AFB and to the VA Hospital.  We were the college where all of the true future Air Force officers of the ROTC came to in Florida.  I knew that one day I'd be serving in the military.  Both of my parents served in the Navy and my mother was dating a man who served in the Army and was now in the Reserves.  I had just decided to wait a few years until I enlisted.

So being at USF I was surrounded by military personnel and I was happy about it.

The morning of September 11, 2001 I woke up underneath the arms, legs, and naked bodies of my best friends Ryan, Angel and Angel's new boyfriend James.  I pushed my way out of the tangle of arms and walked towards the shower to get dressed for class.  I had an early class that day and was still a little drunk from the night before.  So when I felt my stomach clenching with dread I thought that it was the Jack Daniels creeping back up on me.  I stood in the shower, scrubbing the scent of alcohol, smoke, sex, and gay men from my skin when my thoughts became centered on my grandfather and my other best friend Justin, both of whom lived in New York.  Being the daughter of a pastor I threw up a quick prayer for their safety, rushed into my skirt and shirt, brushed out my hair, grabbed my backpack and raced off to my Fashion Design class (bet you guys didn't know I designed clothes did you?), leaving Angel, Ryan and James in the room to sleep off their hangovers.

The campus was surprisingly quiet, even for it being as early as it was, and I had no idea that while I had been showering that the first plane had already crashed into the World Trade Center.  When I walked into my classroom, I heard cries and sniffles, I saw that the tv was on and I saw people hugging each other.  Fear rushed over my body instantly.  I didn't know what was going on, but I knew it was bad and I knew that I wasn't going to like it.  I sat down and looked at the television screen and that's when I saw what they were saying.  I was in shock.  A plane had flown into the WTC?  Was it an accident?  What the hell was going on? How many people had died?

My class, usually loud and boisterous, filled with the flamboyant and the artistic, those of us who loved to express ourselves, was somber and quiet.  We sat there and watched the television, no one spoke, until the second plane flew into the second building.  Then, true to form, I screamed out "WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?"  My body was shaking, I was scared.  My grandfather lived in Harlem.  He was there in New York!  My best friend Justin, who was my soul mate, lived out in Greenwich Village and was working on Broadway.  He was RIGHT THERE!  I pulled out my phone and tried to dial, I got nothing.  My cell service was down.  I raced out of the room, my backpack slung over one shoulder, my teacher yelling my name and I raced back towards my dorm.  I wasn't the only one running by this point.  The campus that had been a veritable wasteland only moments before was filled with students running to their dorms, running to their cars, trying to call home.

When I got to my dorm, Angel and Ryan were awake, holding each other and crying.  I could hear James in the bathroom vomiting.  I sat on their laps and we all kept trying to call Justin, my grandfather, Angel's mother who was visiting her sister in New York.  We watched as the buildings fell, we watched the reports as they talked about United 93 and then I remembered that I had a friend, Tiffany, who was supposed to be flying from New York that morning to come home.  My body was frozen in shock and then I had my very first panic attack.

I don't remember much after that.  There are flashes of the RA coming in to check on me.  Me watching the news reports with the boys.  Being told that our entire campus was on "strictly enforced lockdown" because of our "proximity to a popular military base" in the face of "the terrorist attack upon our country."  I couldn't leave and my family couldn't come get me.  I remember seeing my dorm mate, Meagan, rushing in and throwing clothes in a bag and then I remember seeing her getting dressed in her Air Force uniform, although that was the next day.  I hadn't slept.  None of us had.  We were still on lockdown, except for those of us who were going off to serve our country.

I remember hugging Meagan.  Holding her tight and crying on her uniform.  She was much older than me and she'd opened my mind to different types of relationships and sexuality, beyond gay or straight.  Megan was bisexual and had been in a threesome relationship with our other roommate Heather and their boyfriend Scott.  I remember begging Meagan not to go, because I had a bad feeling.  She had been recalled to the base for a debriefing, quick retraining and then deployment.  She kissed my forehead and made me promise to take care of myself and to design her a "fabulous gown to wear to the homecoming dance" when she got back.  I promised, but Meagan was deployed and she gave her life for her country.

It was three days before I was able to hear from my grandfather, who sobbed on the phone about what had happened.  Three days before I got a phone call from Justin where he comforted me on the phone and told me "I almost went down there that morning.  I was planning on going through that part of town with some friends, but I changed my mind at the last minute.  They were all there.  They saw it happen.  They'll never be the same.  I'm so lucky.  I'm so blessed."

It was a week before I heard from Tiffany.  Her flight had been cancelled at the last minute and she was okay.  She was lucky.  She was blessed.  Ryan comforted her when she cried on the phone.  They ended up getting married that next year and have been together ever since.

I didn't enlist until years later.  We were still at war with Iraq.  George W Bush was still the president when I enlisted.  I knew that I was signing myself up to fight in a war that started about an event that many people had forgotten about.  But when I enlisted I was wearing the bracelet that Meagan had given me the day I moved into the dorms.  It was rainbow colored and I had no idea that it stood for homosexuality.  I just knew that she'd given it to me.  My fiance had just passed away from brain cancer when I enlisted.  When I enlisted I was thinking about the children who were still waiting on "Mommy" or "Daddy" to come home.  I was thinking about the men and women who lost their spouses either on 9/11 or who lost them in the war.  I was thinking about my stepfather, who deployed to Kuwait a year after the attack and was never the same.

I thought about the young guy that I had been dating, who served in the Marines and was never heard from again.

I thought about my friends who had enlisted and had come back scared of their shadows and unable to live a life truly free of paranoia.

I thought of Justin, who still lived in New York and said that the people there couldn't believe that the rest of the country had moved on "so fast".  That the people there were still grieving even years later.

When I told people that I had enlisted I was amazed at how many of them were angry or disappointed in me. When I was injured and sent home I was amazed at how many of them turned up their noses at all that I'd lost.  And when I mourned my battle buddies that lost their life in Iraq, the ones who committed suicide because they had never felt so "hated" before, the ones who were killed by suicide bombers, or by IEDs, and those same people merely shook their heads before moving on to talk about the latest celebrity scandal, I finally understood what Justin was saying.

9/11 was a horrific tragedy.  One that was felt not just by Americans but all over the world.  New York is filled with tourists on a daily basis.  The airports are overrun with "foreigners" who are coming to experience America.  It wasn't just Americans who were killed by Muslim extremists.  People were killed.  People of all colors, all nations, all religions.

What this Army veteran found out was that 9/11 is NOT just an American tragedy.  It is NOT just one that should be remembered here, because it was not one that was only felt here.  America may have been the target, but we were not the only victims.  September 11, 2001 was a global tragedy.  A human tragedy.  One fueled by hate, by anger, by terrorism.

So this is to all the men and women that lost their lives, that lost their spouses, all the children who lost their parents, all of the first responders, to the passengers of United Flight 93 who performed such an amazing act of heroism, to the members of the United States Military (Army, Navy, Marines, Air Force, National Guard, Reserves) who fought in the war, who are still fighting in the war, who lost their lives, limbs, their sanity, their dignity, their families, their way of life, their homes, the parents who lost their children, and to everyone else affected by the senseless tragedy:

                              THANK YOU. We will NEVER forget.


Here are the videos:



Thursday, September 1, 2011

I May Be a Bitch, But I'm a Wuss Too

I don’t do pain.

Oh don't get me wrong. I love to be spanked. I like a little pleasure with my pain. But I am a Dom. I am the one holding the whip and the nipple clamps and the cock ring.

Sometimes I like a lot of pain with my pleasure but those moments are rare. Precious. Sacred...and I can count them on one hand.

But when it comes to physical pain? I am a big ass wuss! I grunt, moan and groan (and not in a good way). I hiss. Sometimes my eyes fill with liquid (not tears, liquid).

So why am I telling you this? Because today while I was talking to my new friend Sidney I went to stand up from my chair, to grab a soda from the fridge, and a sharp pain in my lower back had me gasping and falling to the floor. I couldn't stand, sitting upright hurt all I could do was crawl.

I crawled to my phone to tell my Marmie and younger sis (who graduated with a degree as a Hospital Administrator) and friend Keesha. I was told to soak in a hot bath and to take a muscle relaxer.

I crawled to the bathroom and then filled up the tub. I crawled into the tub (lovely visual huh? How many of you wanted the image of my naked body crawling on the bathroom floor in your heads? Anyone? No one? *Crickets* Yep, just what I thought).

I moaned the whole way.

You know I was lucky that I was discharged from the Army 86 days before I deployed because with my luck I would have been shot, fallen to ground and cried like a baby.

Because I cried the day I got hurt.

So today is DEFINITELY a Veronica day. NOT a Vic day.

I am still soaking in the tub, still in pain....

And yes, still moaning.
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Monday, February 7, 2011

Black History Month Days 6 & 7


So we all know that yesterday was the Superbowl and because of that I wasn’t able to post on here about Black History/Our History as I would’ve liked, but I’ve got you today, here is yesterday’s and today’s.  The first African-American woman to be elected as mayor in Washington, D.C. and any major American city:


Sharon Pratt Biography

also known as Sharon Pratt Kelly and Sharon Pratt Dixon

( 1944 – )

Politician. Born January 30, 1944, in Washington, D.C., to Superior Court Judge Carlisle Edward Pratt and Mildred Pratt. When Pratt was 4, she and her sister lost their mother to breast cancer. Pratt’s grandmother and aunt stepped in to help raise the girls. Pratt’s father continued to play a major role in their lives, and instilled values and a commitment to public service in his daughters. When Sharon expressed an interest in acting, her father instead persuaded his daughter to attend Howard University. In 1965 she followed in her father’s footsteps when she received her bachelor’s degree in political science. She then enrolled in Howard University’s School of Law.
In 1968, Pratt earned her law degree and began work as an associate in her father’s law firm, Pratt and Queen, in 1971. In addition to her work in family rights law there, Pratt was also named a Professor of Law at the Antioch School of Law in Washington, D.C. She held that post until she left to pursue a job in public policy at the Potomac Electric Power Company in 1976.
Dixon rose in the ranks at Potomac Electric, becoming the Vice President of Public Policy—the first woman and the first African-American to hold the position. In 1977, she was elected as the Democratic National Committee representative from the District of Columbia, a post she held for three years. She then served as the Democratic National Committee Eastern Regional Chairwoman from 1980 to 1984. A year later, Pratt established another first when she became the first woman to hold the position of Democratic National Committee Treasurer.
In 1990, Sharon Pratt was elected mayor of Washington, D.C., upsetting incumbent Marion S. Berry, Jr. With her election, Pratt became the first African-American woman to serve as mayor of a major American city. After a term in office, Pratt lost to Berry in his 1994 re-election campaign.
After her election loss, she began a Homeland Security and Emergency Preparedness through her company, Pratt Consulting. Pratt currently resides in Washington, D.C., where she remains a committed public servant.

History Of the Colored Troops in the American Civil War

Approximately 180,000 African-Americans comprising 163 units served in the Union Army during the Civil War, and many more African-Americans served in the Union Navy. Both free Africans-Americans and runaway slaves joined the fight. On July 17, 1862, Congress passed two acts allowing the enlistment of African-Americans, but official enrollment occurred only after the September, 1862 issuance of the Emancipation Proclamation. In general, white soldiers and officers believed that black men lacked the courage to fight and fight well. In October, 1862, African-American soldiers of the 1st Kansas Colored Volunteers silenced their critics by repulsing attacking Confederates at the battle of Island Mound, Missouri. By August, 1863, 14 Negro Regiments were in the field and ready for service. At the battle of Port Hudson, Louisiana, May 27, 1863, the African-American soldiers bravely advanced over open ground in the face of deadly artillery fire. Although the attack failed, the black solders proved their capability to withstand the heat of battle.
On July 17, 1863, at Honey Springs, Indian Territory, now Oklahoma, the 1st Kansas Colored fought with courage again. Union troops under General James Blunt ran into a strong Confederate force under General Douglas Cooper. After a two-hour bloody engagement, Cooper’s soldiers retreated. The 1st Kansas, which had held the center of the Union line, advanced to within fifty paces of the Confederate line and exchanged fire for some twenty minutes until the Confederates broke and ran. General Blunt wrote after the battle, “I never saw such fighting as was done by the Negro regiment….The question that negroes will fight is settled; besides they make better solders in every respect than any troops I have ever had under my command.”
The most widely known battle fought by African-Americans was the assault on Fort Wagner, South Carolina, by the 54th Massachusetts on July 18, 1863. The 54th volunteered to lead the assault on the strongly-fortified Confederate positions. The soldiers of the 54th scaled the fort’s parapet, and were only driven back after brutal hand-to-hand combat.
Although black soldiers proved themselves as reputable soldiers, discrimination in pay and other areas remained widespread. According to the Militia Act of 1862, soldiers of African descent were to receive $10.00 a month, plus a clothing allowance of $3.50. Many regiments struggled for equal pay, some refusing any money until June 15, 1864, when Congress granted equal pay for all black soldiers.
African-American soldiers participated in every major campaign of 1864-1865 except Sherman’s invasion of Georgia. The year 1864 was especially eventful for African-American troops. On April 12, 1864, atFort Pillow, Tennessee, Confederate General Nathan Bedford Forrest led his 2,500 men against the Union-held fortification, occupied by 292 black and 285 white soldiers. After driving in the Union pickets and giving the garrison an opportunity to surrender, Forrest’s men swarmed into the fort with little difficulty and drove the Federals down the river’s bluff into a deadly crossfire. Casualties were high and only sixty-two of the U.S. Colored Troops survived the fight. Many accused the Confederates of perpetuating a massacre of black troops, and the controversy continues today. The battle cry for the Negro soldier east of the Mississippi River became “Remember Fort Pillow!”
The Battle of New Market Heights, Virginia (Chaffin’s Farm) became one of the most heroic engagements involving African-Americans. On September 29, 1864, the African-American division of the Eighteenth Corps, after being pinned down by Confederate artillery fire for about 30 minutes, charged the earthworks and rushed up the slopes of the heights. During the hour-long engagement the division suffered tremendous casualties. Of the sixteen African-Americans who were awarded the Medal of Honor during the Civil War, fourteen received the honor as a result of their actions at New Market Heights.
In January, 1864, General Patrick Cleburne and several other Confederate officers in the Army of the Tennessee proposed using slaves as soldiers since the Union was using black troops. Cleburne recommended offering slaves their freedom if they fought and survived. Confederate President Jefferson Davis refused to consider Cleburne’s proposal and forbade further discussion of the idea. The concept, however, did not die. By the fall of 1864, the South was losing more and more ground, and some believed that only by arming the slaves could defeat be averted. On March 13, the Confederate Congress passed General Order 14, and President Davis signed the order into law. The order was issued March 23, 1865, but only a few African-American companies were raised, and the war ended before they could be used in battle.
In actual numbers, African American soldiers comprised 10% of the entire Union Army. losses among African-Americans were high, and from all reported casualties, approximately one-third of all African-Americans enrolled in the military lost their lives during the Civil War.

District of Columbia. Company E, 4th US Colored Infantry at Fort Lincoln


Johnsonville, Tenn. Camp of Tennessee Colored Battery
Black slaves who fled to Union lines, or “contrabands,” often proved themselves extremely useful, even before the government enlisted them into service. A group of “contrabands” appear on this calling card. Calling cards, or cartes de visite, with photographs were popular during this era partly because photography was relatively new and the cards provided a means of sharing likenesses with friends and relatives. This one includes images of white officers of the 2nd Rhode Island Camp at Camp Brightwood in the District of Columbia. On the left is Capt. B. S. Brown. In the center is Lt. John P. Shaw, killed in action at the Wilderness, Virginia, May 5, 1864, and on the right is Lt. T. Fry. The “contrabands” with them are not named.
A group of “contrabands.” [Stereograph] ca.1861 published later
Click to enlarge
29th Regiment from Connecticut 

SPOTLIGHT: Black Soldiers in the Civil War

African American troops contributed greatly to the Union war effort
 Close WindowBlack soldiers with firearms (Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division)
Enlarge PhotoBlack soldiers with firearms (Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division)F. Douglass: Let the black man fight for his freedom and “no power on earth … can deny that he has earned the right to citizenship.”
This article is excerpted from the book Free At Last: The U.S. Civil Rights Movement, published by the Bureau of International Information Programs. Viewthe entire book (PDF, 3.6 MB).
By Joyce Hansen
A four-time winner of the Coretta Scott King Honor Book Award, Joyce Hansen has published short stories and 15 books of contemporary and historical fiction and nonfiction for young readers, includingBetween Two Fires: Black Soldiers in the Civil War.
When the American Civil War began in 1861, Jacob Dodson, a free black man living in Washington, D.C., wrote to Secretary of War Simon Cameron informing him that he knew of “300 reliable colored free citizens” who wanted to enlist and defend the city. Cameron replied that “this department has no intention at present to call into the service of the government any colored soldiers.” It didn’t matter that black men, slave and free, had served in colonial militias and had fought on both sides of the Revolutionary War. Many black men felt that serving in the military was a way they might gain freedom and full citizenship.
Why did many military and civilian leaders reject the idea of recruiting black soldiers? Some said that black troops would prove too cowardly to fight white men, others said that they would be inferior fighters, and some thought that white soldiers would not serve with black soldiers. There were a few military leaders, though, who had different ideas.
On March 31, 1862, almost a year after the first shots of the Civil War were fired at Fort Sumter, South Carolina, Union (northern) troops commanded by General David Hunter took control of the islands off the coasts of northern Florida, Georgia, and South Carolina. Local whites who owned the rich cotton and rice plantations fled to the Confederate-controlled (southern) mainland. Most of their slaves remained on the islands, and they soon were joined by black escapees from the mainland who believed they would be liberated if only they could reach the Union lines. It would not be that simple.
Even as Hunter needed more soldiers to control the region’s many tidal rivers and islands against stubborn Confederate guerrilla resistance, he observed how escaping mainland slaves were swelling the islands’ black population. Perhaps, he reasoned, the African Americans could solve his manpower shortage. He devised a radical plan.
Hunter, a staunch abolitionist, took it upon himself to free the slaves — not just on the islands but through­out Confederate-controlled South Carolina, Georgia, and Florida — and to recruit black men capable of bearing arms as Union soldiers. He would attempt to train and form the first all-black regiment of the Civil War.
Close WindowAfrican-American soldiers poster (Louie Psihoyos/Science Faction)
Enlarge PhotoAfrican-American soldiers poster (Louie Psihoyos/Science Faction)With the Emancipation Proclamation, the Union began to recruit African-American soldiers.
News traveled slowly in those days, and President Abraham Lincoln did not hear about Hunter’s regiment until June. While Lincoln opposed slavery, he feared moving more quickly than public opinion in the embattled North — and particularly in the slaveholding border states that had sided with the Union — would allow. He also was adamant that “no commanding general shall do such a thing, upon my responsibility, without consulting me.” In an angry letter, the president informed the general that neither he nor any other subordinate had the right to free anyone, although he carefully asserted for himself the right to emancipate slaves at a time of his choosing. Hunter was ordered to disband the regiment, but the seed he planted soon sprouted.
In August 1862, two weeks after Hunter had dismantled his regiment, the War Department allowed General Rufus Saxton to raise the Union Army’s first official black regiment, the First South Carolina Volunteers. This and other black regiments organized in the coastal regions successfully defended and held the coastal islands for the duration of the war.
The First Kansas Colored Volunteers was also organized around this time, but without official War Department sanction. Meanwhile, President Lincoln had carefully laid the groundwork for emancipation and the inclusion of men of African descent into the military. As white northerners increasingly understood that black slaves were crucial to the Confederacy’s economy and to its war effort, Lincoln could justify freeing the slaves as matter of military necessity.
When Abraham Lincoln signed the Emancipation Proclamation on January 1, 1863, the military’s policy toward enslaved people became clearer. Those who reached the Union lines would be free. Also, the War Department began to recruit and enlist black troops for newly formed regiments of the Union Army — the United States Colored Troops (USCT). All of the officers in these regiments, however, would be white.
By the fall of 1864, some 140 black regiments had been raised in many northern states and in southern territories captured by the Union. About 180,000 African Americans served during the Civil War, including more than 75,000 northern black volunteers.
Although the black regiments were segregated from their white counterparts, they fought the same battles. Black troops performed bravely and successfully even though they coped with both the Confederate enemy and the suspicion of some of their Union military colleagues.
Once black men were accepted into the military, they were limited in many cases to garrison and fatigue duty. The famed Massachusetts 54th Regiment’s Colonel Robert Gould Shaw actively petitioned superiors to give his men a chance to engage in battle and prove themselves as soldiers. Some of the other officers who knew what their men could do did the same. Black troops had to fight to get the same pay as white soldiers. Some regiments refused to accept lower pay. It was not until 1865, the year the war ended, that Congress passed a law providing equal pay for black soldiers.
Despite these restrictions, the United States Colored Troops successfully participated in 449 military engagements, 39 of them major battles. They fought in battles in South Carolina, Louisiana, Florida, Virginia, Tennessee, Alabama, and other states. They bravely stormed forts and faced artillery knowing that if captured by the enemy, they would not be given the rights of prisoners of war, but instead would be sold into slavery. The black troops performed with honor and valor all of the duties of soldiers.
Despite the Army’s policy of only having white officers, eventually about 100 black soldiers rose from the ranks and were commissioned as officers. Eight black surgeons also received commissions in the USCT. More than a dozen USCT soldiers were given the Congressional Medal of Honor for bravery.
In 1948, President Harry S. Truman ordered the desegregation of the armed forces. Today’s military remains an engine of social and economic opportunity for black Americans. But it was the sacrifices of the Civil War-era black soldiers that paved the way for the full acceptance of African Americans in the United States military. More fundamentally, their efforts were an important part of the struggle of African Americans for liberty and dignity.
{Information obtained from: *http://americancivilwar.com,http://www.biography.comhttp://www.america.gov}