Pioneering black Airborne Ranger laid to rest

By MATTHEW DOLAN, The Virginian-Pilot
© August 3, 2002 used by permission of the author

NORFOLK -- After hymns, prayers and Bible verses washed over mourners Friday at the funeral of Willie L. Coleman, an old soldier rose from his pew.

``Get ready!'' Bill Weathersbee shouted.

His words mimicked orders given to airborne soldiers, the same words barked at Weathersbee and Coleman when they served in war-torn Korea more than 50 years ago.

When the Army fought there, a company's worth of men who happened to be black stepped up.

They wanted to become combat-ready airborne Rangers, the service's brand-new and highly trained fighting force. And they included Weathersbee, Coleman and more than a hundred others.

Before then, no black soldier had ever been one. No black had ever been dropped behind enemy lines into combat.

But in 1950, the Army created the all-black 2nd Ranger Airborne Infantry Company. Weathersbee and Coleman signed up.

Now, as their numbers dwindle, Weathersbee and two other company veterans gathered Friday to reminisce and pass on their little-known role in transcending racial barriers.

This is how Weathersbee described it to about 120 mourners at St. John A.M.E. Church on Bute Street:

``Ranger Willie L. Coleman departed this life on July 22, 2002, to the great drop zone beyond, which has many soft landing spots and gentle breezes.''

He paused.

``Stand up!'' Weathersbee said, repeating the next order for an airborne jump.

``Whereas, during his military service, Ranger Coleman was respected, admired and loved by us, his comrades-in-arms of the airborne Rangers.

``Hook up!''

``Be it resolved that we, the members and comrades of this organization, wish his family to know that we knew Willie L. Coleman when he served in the 80th Airborne Anti-Aircraft Battalion of the 82nd Airborne Division at Fort Bragg, North Carolina.''

His voice started to rise.

``When he volunteered for the airborne Rangers during the Korean War,'' he said. ``When the United Nations Forces numbered a half-million men, there were less than 800 Rangers operating out in front of them.''

``When he parachuted behind enemy lines on March 23, 1951.''

This jump ``would be a first in military history where a black unit . . . would use the parachute to engage the enemy on the field of battle,'' he said.

Family members helped complete the picture of Coleman's life Friday. The 71-year-old Chesapeake man retired from the Military Sealift Command in 1983 after 32 years of civil service. He loved classical music, his pastor said.

A Bronze Star recipient, Coleman left behind a wife, three sisters, four daughters, two sons and many nieces, nephews and grandchildren.

One nephew, Eugene Johnson, visited Coleman routinely in the early morning hours. Johnson recalled how the loss of Coleman's legs in recent years did not shake his faith in God.

The double amputation, his family said, could be traced back to the frostbite he endured in Korea, where he was also shot in the head. He will be buried at Arlington National Cemetery.

When the funeral concluded Friday, Coleman's Army buddies -- 73-year-old Weathersbee of Raeford, N.C., retired Sgt. Major William R. Wilson, 70, of Fayetteville, N.C., and retired 1st Sgt. Edward L. Posey, 70, of Hampton -- stuck around.

They remembered with pride a day and night in May 1951 when their company claimed an obscure hill in Korea. For nearly eight hours, about 65 Rangers battled a much larger contingent of Chinese troops.

When morning came, they still controlled Hill 581. Only one man was lost in the fight.

The Rangers were resting when a white Army captain arrived at the hill. After hearing the account, he left and returned with his troops.

``I want all of you to look around,'' the captain told his all-white company, according to Weathersbee. ``This is what happens when men don't panic.''

The statements stunned the black Rangers. Weathersbee even wrote down what the captain had said. He wanted someone to remember in case he died.

``We were `boys.' No one ever called us `men,' '' said Posey, whose name now hangs in the Ranger Hall of Fame. ``We finally had respect.''

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