As a black woman from Texas who was educated in predominantly white schools and at one point lived in a mostly white neighborhood, though my father grew up in Jim Crow Louisiana, I felt a connection to Elinor, and I wanted to know everything about her. What was it like to be an African American nurse in a segregated state? How did she cope with being humiliated and mistreated by whites as an adult when, as I later discovered, her upbringing was filled with positive interactions with white people? How was it possible to love a man who was raised in a country that believed the Aryan race was superior?

Many questions remain unanswered about Elinor and Frederick’s relationship and experiences in their respective armies. They were private, even reticent with their children about the war years. But their story reveals a largely unknown and tremendously compelling aspect of military history and race relations in this country. It filled me with a sense of duty to document not only her journey but the period and place in which Jim Crow and Nazism collided and the very unlikely love story it spawned that lasted more than fifty years.

Introduction

Introduction

ELINOR POWELL PULLED OPEN THE HEAVY GLASS doors and walked into the massive Woolworth’s department store on Phoenix’s East Washington Street. She adjusted her uniform, tugged at her jacket to air out some of the sweat that drenched her back, and walked to the edge of the lunch counter.

She could feel several white faces glaring in her direction as she stared straight ahead, waiting for the server to approach.

“You can’t sit here.”

“I’d like a ginger ale, please,” Elinor said, ignoring his comment.

“I said you can’t sit here. No Negroes at the counter.” The diners became silent.

“Excuse me, sir. I’m an American citizen and an officer in the United States Army Nurse Corps. I’d like to order a ginger ale,” Elinor responded, trying to contain her emotions.

“I don’t care who you are. If you don’t leave, I’ll call the police.”

Elinor felt the tears forming in the corners of her eyes, but there was no way she would break in front of this racist simpleton and a roomful of unsympathetic patrons.

She was off duty and hoping a day to herself would clear her mind. There weren’t any critical cases at the hospital, and there were enough nurses on call to handle an emergency if one arose. The German prisoners of war detained at Camp Florence were faring just fine, in Elinor’s eyes. In fact, they were treated better by Arizonans than were African Americans wearing U.S. military uniforms.