There were many lesser deeds of this kind which gave hope and encouragement to Negro soldiers as they served the country, and it was clearly demonstrated that colored and white soldiers could live, work, drill, and play together without friction or riots, if only the square deal was meted to all alike. Naturally the opportunity of serving together in a great cause and of coming to know a little better Americans of all groups was responsible for a greater spirit of tolerance on the part of many thousands of men. A young lieutenant, born and raised in South Carolina and graduated from the University of Georgia, said that he really hated Negroes before he was assigned to the branch of Negro artillery located at Camp Jackson. He was brought up on a plantation and expected to see in his battery much lying, stealing, and gambling. When he realized that the men who had been selected for his branch of the service were physically and educationally fit and that their conduct was excellent, he frankly said that his ideas had changed. Of special importance was the Negro’s contribution to the joys of camp life by his religion and song. His religion gave him courage that enabled him to go forward when the path was dark, and his song not only made his own burdens lighter but enabled him to bring cheer and sunshine to thousands of discouraged soldiers. A Negro who on the parade ground tried to master a drill or who went through a savage bayonet exercise, at night frequently forgot completely his daily work as he sang “Ain’t goin’ to study war no more.” From early morning until taps sounded at night, moreover, one could hear the strains of music in the “Y” hut. It might be anything from a “blues” played on the piano with one finger to some classic theme. Sometimes a soldier would begin playing a familiar song on the piano and the strain would be taken up until all who were present were singing. On one Sunday three thousand Negroes from Florida who had just arrived at Camp Devens, Mass., held a meeting. A quartet and a soloist rendered several numbers. Then one man who had a beautiful baritone voice led the three thousand men as they sang “I need thee every hour.” Most of the men were from farms and away from their loved ones for the first time in their lives--strangers in a strange land. As their thoughts were far away the leader began the refrain of “S’wanee River,” and as they sang of the “old folks at home” the music rose until the very rafters shook. Tears were in the eyes of stalwart men that Sunday afternoon, and there was a warmth and a harmony about it that was unlike anything in the world.