Paris Davis Quotes

I address my men. "If you call me anything besides 'sir,' I'm not going to waste time reporting you. I'll just knock you to the ground."
We get along splendidly. I think one of the good things about a war or any other type of crisis like Vietnam is the fact that people are committed to it like gel. There's no race here. In the dark, brown is just as black or white as anybody else.

I retire from the Army in 1985. I start a small newspaper in Virginia called The Metro Herald and, for the next thirty years, publish stories about the accomplishments of Black people. I'm often asked about my thoughts on why my medal nomination kept getting lost or why I kept running into enemy fire to save my men. I always answer the same way.
Life suddens upon you, it just suddens upon you. Every day, something comes up that you don't expect.

When you're out there fightig, everybody's your friend, and you're everybody's friend. The bullets have no color, no names.

Back home, the United States is engaged in another kind of war. It's a battle over segregation. In 1964, President Kennedy's successor, Lyndon B. Johnson, signed into law the Civil Rights Act, which ended segregation in public places and prohibited discrimination on the basis of race, color, religion, sex, or national origin. Not everyone is happy about it. Some white people cross to the other side of the street when they see me. Some white soldiers I know, too.

The Vietcong tries to overrun us. I see five coming over the trench line. I kill all five when I hear firing from the left flank. I run down there and see about six Vietcong moving toward our position. I throw a grenade and kill all four of them. My M16 jams, so I shoot one with my pistol and hit the other with the butt of my M16 again and again until he's dead. That's when it hits me. I'm the last American standing.

For the next two years, CBS's ongoing reporting and our team help keep the story in front of high-level decision-makers. As their efforts go on, they begin to get quiet, encouraging signs from the Pentagon. Then, in early 2023, more than fifty-seven years after that battle in Vietnam, I get a call at home from President Biden. He tells me I will be awarded the Medal of Honor and to prepare for a White House ceremony.
Speaking with the President prompts a wave of memories of the men and women I served with in Vietnam- from the members of the 5th Special Forces Group and other US military units to the doctors and nurses who cared for our wounded. I remain so very grateful to the support of my family and friends within the military and outside it. Their work, the White House ceremony, and many events at the Pentagon and elsewhere in America keep alive the story of A-team, A-321 at Camp Bong Son.
Most of all, I want to share the medal with my Special Forces troops- the other soldiers I worked with and fought with that day. Somehow, they need to touch that medal. It ain't all mine. It's for America, too.

A Medal of Honor packet requires substantial paperwork- eyewitness statements, map, a unit report of the action, and other documentation. It's not something that gets lost. The chances of it being lost not once but twice are nearly impossible. Race, I believe, is a factor.

Not long after I entered the Army, I had just completed IOBLC, the Infantry Officers Basic Leadership Course, when a sergeant major who is white comes up to me. "What are you doing here?" he asks.
It's been fourteen years since President Truman desegregated our military, but Black people are still looked upon as less than people- less than Americans. Sitting at a lunch counter, getting a book from the library, walking a picket line to support the right to vote and integrate schools and public transportation- these actions can get Black people arrested, beaten, or killed.
I straighten a bit. "I'm waiting to be assigned, sir." He looks at me, thinking. "I have an Airborne slot," he says. "You want it?" "Yes, sir." "Do you know what 'Airborne' means?" "No, sir." "Good. You'll find out once you get there."