The Long Way Home
An American Journey from Ellis Island to the Great War
David Laskin

Onward Jewish Soldiers

Tuesday, March 2nd, 2010

Reporters always love a shaggy dog story, and back in the early autumn of 1917, as the nation mobilized for war in Europe, they got their hands on one at Camp Upton.  Draftees from the mean streets of New York City were pouring into this boot camp out in the scrub flats of central Long Island, and the New York dailies dispatched a pool of reporters to write about how the “Izzies, Witzers, Johnnies, Mikes and Tonies” were coping.  One reporter fixed on a recruit sporting “a great beard – long, fuzzy, and innocent of all tonsorial attack,” who was wandering dazed and confused around the barracks.  The Bearded Soldier, as the press corps dubbed this Orthodox Jewish buck private, spoke no English, ate nothing but sardines, and refused to shave on religious grounds.  Reporters cracked-wise for days over the stoop-shouldered tailor who, as one wrote, had spent his life working  “fourteen hours a day on cheap ladies’ wear” but now seemed perfectly content “ “to be out in the big open air and play and think and stroke his beard.”

Such was the image of the Jew in uniform when the U.S. entered the Great War.  Pants pressers, push-cart peddlers, sewing machine operators – maybe businessmen or doctors at the upper echelons, but certainly not warriors.  That image would change dramatically in the coming months as the Bearded Soldier and thousands of his fellow Jews shaped up, shipped out, and took their places in the front lines in France and Belgium.  Jews had, of course, fought in America’s previous wars – but never with the numbers and the recognition they attained in World War I.  It was the first war in which the army brought in Jews as chaplains – eventually six rabbis ministered to the 100,000 Jewish soldiers on active duty in France.  And, starting in February 1918, for the first time the graves of slain Jewish soldiers were marked with the Star of David instead of a cross.

Among Jewish-Americans who distinguished themselves in the Great War were Sam Dreben, the so-called Fighting Jew, who enlisted in the U.S. army soon after arriving from Ukraine in 1899 and led a colorful life as a soldier of fortune in Central America before reenlisting in 1918 to serve with the 141st infantry;

Samuel “Nails” Morton, a Chicago gangster who, given the choice of doing prison time for assault or signing on with the army, chose the army, fought bravely with the Rainbow Division, and was commended by his commanding officer for his “unusual aptitude for weapons;”

and Rabbi Elkan Voorsanger, known as the Fighting Rabbi, who served the spiritual needs of the heavily New York (and immigrant) 77th “Melting Pot” Division.  “In France, there was no distinction,” the Fighting Rabbi told a reporter for the New York Times in 1919. “Each Chaplain was responsible for the religion of every man, and it didn’t matter to us how a man prayed but that he prayed.”

Praising the participation of Jewish-Americans, General Pershing wrote, “When the time came to serve their country under arms, no class of people served with more patriotism or with higher motives than the young Jews who volunteered or were drafted and went overseas with our other young Americans to fight the enemy.” Though only 3.27 percent of the U.S. population in 1917, Jews made up 5.73 percent of the army, with 72 percent of Jews in uniform serving in combat units, compared with 60 percent of all military personnel.  The Bearded Soldier soon vanished from the New York dailies, but chances are he saw his share of action and acquitted himself bravely, bushy beard and all.

In his book A Jewish Chaplain in France, Rabbi Lee J. Levinger, a chaplain with 27th Division, reflected on why Jews showed such eagerness for combat.  Levinger told a story about a young Jewish soldier in the division who risked his life to rescue men wounded in the course of a terrible firefight:  “I asked…why he had led a group of volunteers in bringing from an exposed position some wounded men of another regiment, an act in which the only other Jew in the company had been killed and for which my friend was later decorated. ‘Well, chaplain, there were only two Jewish boys in the company and we’d been kidded about it a little.  We just wanted to show those fellows what a Jew could do.’”  I suspect a lot of Jewish Doughboys felt the same way.

If you’re interested in pursuing the history of Jews in the American military, check out the Jewish War Veterans of the United States of America website – or drop into the JWV’s National Museum of American Jewish Military History in Washington, D.C.

I’ll close this post with a request.  When I was in France walking American World War I battlefields, I visited the Meuse-Argonne American military cemetery and came across the grave of William Sawelson, one of two Jewish Americans awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor in the war.  Sergeant Sawelson was born in Newark, New Jersey, served in the 312th infantry, and was killed by a machine-gun bullet on October 26, 1918,  while trying to bring water to a wounded comrade at Grand Pre.  I searched for more about his life and service, but aside from the MOH citation I came away empty-handed.  If anyone knows anything else about this Jewish-American hero, I’d love to hear about it.

2 Comments  |  Permalink  |  Posted in Uncategorized

« Previous Posts