He got in front of his men.  He lined them up in formation.  Then he said:  “Now, boys, we’re going to play that ocean is full of Germans.  You stevedores are always complaining about not getting up front, and you tell me what you’d do to the Germans if you once got up front.  Now I’m going to see how much nerve you’ve got.  When I say ‘Forward!  March!’ it is a military order.  I’m going to lead you into that water.  We are going in military formation.

“‘Forward!  March!’”

And that company of black soldiers marched into that cold ocean water, dreading it with all their souls but soldiers to the core, without a quaver, eyes to the front, heads up, chests out, unflinchingly, up to their knees, up to their waists, up to their chins, when the captain shouted “As you were!” and such a hilarious, shouting, laughing, splashing, jumping, yelling, fun-filled hour as followed the world never saw.  The gleaming of white teeth, the flashing of ebony limbs through green water and under sparkling sunlight that Sunday morning was full of a fine type of fun and laughter that made the world a better place to live in, and certainly a cleaner place.

War is grim.  War is serious.  War is full of hurt and hate and pain and heartache and loneliness and wounds, and mud and death and dearth; but the American soldier spends more time laughing than he does crying; more time singing than he does moaning; more time playing than he does moping; more times shouting than he does whimpering; more time hoping than he does despairing; and because of this effervescent spirit of sunshine and laughter his morale is the best morale that any army in the history of the world has ever shown.