It was in Verdun that I learned of
the extraordinary life of Gene Bullard.
 In
1914, one of the Foreign Legion Volunteers defending Verdun
was an American named Eugene Jacques Bullard. He certainly
hadn’t planned to be there. When the war broke out
it found him in Paris, variously making a living as a boxer
and part time music hall performer. A life made all the more
foreign for his having been born in rural Georgia, to slave
parents.
At
the turn of the century, Bullard parents, Josephine, a Creek
Indian, and William "Big Chief Ox" Bullard, and
their ten children were the property of a Georgia planter,
Wiley Bullard. Life as a slave, and shaken by witnessing
the near lynching of his father, drove the boy Eugene to
flee his family in 1906. Stories now abound of his travels;
he lived with Gypsies, was taken in at a horse ranch, taught
to ride as a jockey; then, not yet a teenager, regaling his
fathers tales of Europe without color laws, he stowed away
on a ship bound for Europe.
 So it happened that Bullard was in Paris by 1913, and when
the War erupted the following year, he joined the French
Foreign Legion. Twice seriously wounded in one of the fierce
battles defending Verdun, Bullard was both awarded the Croix
de Guerre and declared unfit for combat infantry service.
He requested assignment to flight training and, as an American,
was assigned to the all American Lafayette Flying Corps.
Records show Bullard flew 20 missions as a Spad pilot, making
him the first African-American U.S. military pilot ever,
and a successful one in that he shot down a German plane
and is credited with a second. His Squadron mates daubed
him “The Black Swallow of Death.
 Unfortunately
for Bullard, when the U.S. entered the war in 1917, the
Lafayette espadrille was taken over by the U.S. Army which
grounded Bullard and returned him to the French Infantry.
Here you will find a number of stories regarding his being
rejected by the U.S. Army, but the fact is, he was a Black
pilot which was against Army regulations at the time.
Bullard
survived the War and settled in Paris where he was well
known and honored as a true hero of the French struggle.
He spent the years between the wars owning night clubs,
living the Paris life of the twenty’s, sharing the
early European jazz scene, associating with many luminaries
including Marion Davies and Earnest Hemmingway and sometimes
performing himself. But when World War 2 erupted, Bullard,
46 years old, once again joined the French Army. He was
soon seriously wounded, captured by the Germans, escaped,
made his way to the Americans and sent to the ‘States’ to
recouperate.
Bullard never fully recovered from his numerous
war injuries. He lived in relative obscurity in New York
City, all the while supporting the civil rights movement,
enduring beatings and abuse for the principals he so strongly
lived by.
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I lived in Verdun for three or four
years in the early 1950’s. For those who don’t
immediately recognize the name, Verdun is in the north east
of France on the Meuse River. It is located just east of
Metz, pivotal town in French history. These towns have often
born the brunt of invasion from the East, and so it was at
the onset of WW1 when French resistance there caused the
front to bend at Metz and stall in a semi circle around Verdun.
