By Mike Brunker, msnbc.com writer

After being slammed and submerged by Katrina, few residents of New Orleans and its equally at-risk suburbs were willing to gamble with their lives as Gustav marched ashore.

By the time the winds picked up and the first raindrops began to fall Sunday evening, virtually the only humans on the streets were police, National Guard troops, private security guards and TV news crews.

Delia Labarre stands in the intersection of Bourbon and Iberville Streets Sunday afternoon in New Orleans, La. Credit: Jim Seida / msnbc.com

Among those few brave or foolhardy souls who appeared not to belong to any of those groups was Delia Labarre, a New Orleansian who took a break from her pre-curfew walk in the French Quarter to explain why she ignored Mayor Ray Nagin's mandatory evacuation order and an invitation from relatives in Texas to ride out the storm with them.

"I stayed because of my cat," she said. "She's a weird cat. She hisses and stuff."

In addition to not wanting to upset her pet, Labarre said she was confident Gustav wouldn't bring anything worse than Hurricane Katrina, which she rode out at home.

"This time I know what the building can take," she said.

Brenda Shoss of St. Louis, strolling the streets of New Orleans with her husband and son, said her presence also was attributable to pets.

She was in town to accept an award on behalf of a group she founded, KinshipCircle.com, for its work reuniting owners and pets after Katrina, when she heard about Nagin's evacuation order. This time, people leaving on city buses were allowed to bring their pets with them, so Shoss volunteered at Union Station to assure the animals and owners were well situated for the travel.

"We went from the awards ceremony to action mode," she said.

Ambling along Canal Street, Gerald Albert of New Orleans said he and several family members stayed behind because they were part of the skeleton staff that their employer – the Crown Plaza Hotel – asked to stay on through the storm.

Albert, who went through Katrina at home and emerged unscathed, marveled at the weird vibe of the silent streets, saying that it was different from the battlescape he experienced after Katrina.

"I left two days after Katrina and when I came home, it was like a ghost town," he said. "This is stranger."

By Contessa Brewer, MSNBC correspondent and anchor

Michelle Bourgeois came to New Orleans from San Fransisco to help evacuate her mother who has Alzheimer's. So during the overnight hours, Michelle and her sister combed through their mom's heirlooms, paintings, crystal and collectibles. They stored some in the sister's home, in a protected closet, in the sub-zero refrigerator, hoping that when the storm subsides, they'll return to find those precious items undamaged.

Then they loaded up their mom, her wheelchair, her nurse, an uncle and began their evacuation to Meridian, Miss. Normally, they say that drive is four hours. Now, they're approaching eight hours, and expect to go another four. They've tried back roads, going west in order to go east, but the traffic, they say, is intense.

Michelle tells me she's seeing long lines at gas stations; she estimates the average line length is ten cars. I've heard numerous similar stories. What's supposed to be an hour-long drive to Baton Rouge took six hours for one New Orleans family.

But over and over, I hear the same reasoning, "We want to be safe." As Michelle told me, "My sister and I just want to know, we've done everything we could."

 

 

By Jim Seida, msnbc.com senior multimedia producer

 

I was walking down Bourbon Street this evening, reporting on how New Orleans is empty of residents and tourists. As I looked south, I saw a movie-like bulging clouds, layers of lighter clouds on a dark black background. I heard people say, "Here it comes."

 

The wind started to blow, kicking up "to-go" beer cups that rattled down the street. The rain fell in sheets. While many of the neon lights of Bourbon Street were off, the ones left on reflected off brick streets that were shiny from the rain. And as full gutters poured onto the sidewalk, the famous strip became dotted with new waterfalls.

 

As I returned to the hotel, I saw TV reporters setting up for live shots, with cameras and equipment under cover of parking garages and overhangs while the reporters stood in the pouring rain to do their reports. Once their shots were over, they got to come in from the deluge.

 

Other than media, the majority of what you see in New Orleans now are police and National Guard.

 

It's a very different New Orleans than it was a half-hour ago, when photographers were wandering around looking for stories in t-shirts and shorts. After the clouds turned dark and the sky opened up, people became less willing to hang out looking for stories.

 

The rain soon turned to a drizzle, but the darkness stayed.

 

By Jim Seida, msnbc.com senior multimedia producer

New Orleans residents gather at the main Amtrak station to get bused out of town before Hurricane Gustave hits. Jim Seida / msnbc.com

New Orleans is closing. The party, at least for now, is over.  As Hurricane Gustav approaches, people are heeding the government's warnings and heading out of town, leaving the streets mostly empty but for police cruisers and National Guard trucks, patrolling for stragglers.

Coming into the city from Mobile, Ala., was an eye-opening experience.  Even as far as Mobile, 120 miles west of New Orleans, the effects of the storm were already being felt. The local Wal-Mart there was out of gas cans and AA batteries. There were almost no flashlights left and the aisles with boxed juices, cookies, and other foods that are easy to eat while sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic on the interstate were well picked over.

When you're running from (or toward) a hurricane, everybody needs the same things...water, gas, food.

Heading west toward New Orleans felt wrong. The eastbound lanes of I-10 were packed with cars full of families, pickup trucks with furniture and appliances and large, rented moving trucks. It looked like a dense cluster of white Christmas lights, and endless stream of bright white lights. It's' an exodus, a migration. There were hardly any vehicles at all in the westbound lanes, just an occasional set of red taillights moving through the darkness.

Three years ago, when Hurricane Katrina was coming, it wasn't the same.  Thousands of people stayed behind to ride out the storm.  There wasn't the structure or organization needed to get everyone out in time. This time though, the city has an evacuation plan. They have collection points where people are gathering to be bused out of town.  So far, the evacuation seems to be going smoothly.

By Janet Shamlian, NBC News correspondent

After veering dangerously close to empty, I finally found gas near the Louisiana border. $3.95 a gallon seemed high until I went to pay the owner and saw what he was charging for water.. $10.99 a case! Talk about a mini-mart robbery!

We're now at a command center along Interstate 10, where the water is free and the license plates on the ambulances are from as far away as Indiana, Illinois, Michigan and Colorado. Hundreds of buses are stacked here like dominoes, awaiting deployment to New Orleans and the unknown.

Janet Shamlian / NBC News

By Janet Shamlian, NBC News correspondent

The lines were long outside the Port Arthur Civic Center as residents waited for a ride out of town. They were carrying kids and coolers, backpacks and boom boxes -- the necessities for a few days in a strange place.  For some that meant their pets. Evacuating and housing dogs and cats was an issue in the days ahead of and after Hurricane Katrina.  Man's best friend or favorite feline was frequently turned away from both transportation and temporary housing.    In many cases, loving owners had to leave their pets behind at a time when they needed them most. Some where never reunited. 

photos by Contessa Brewer, MSNBC correspondent and anchor

New Orleans is a ghost town. Normally, the French Quarter is bustling with tourist activity. Today, ahead of the storm, Canal Street is empty, save for a large police presence, journalists from around the world and National Guard troops in Humvees. I've been here as a tourist and as a journalist. After Katrina, the place bustled with reconstruction activity. It seems so strange to see this city emptied out, to be so quiet it verges on desolate.

 

In the Garden District of New Orleans, a misspelled "Thank You" sign on a boarded up restaurant, meant for the National Guard.

Below is a photo of the National Guard from New Iberia. They're in New Orleans to establish a security presence for the local street evacuations and to help move the local traffic.

 

Last minute boarding up on St. Charles Avenue.

 

A bus convoy traveling through Kenner

 

Click here for Contessa's report on MSNBC cable on the status of the evacuation efforts.

By David Friedman, msnbc.com photojournalist

What happens when two pairs of strangers share a table for Mexican fare, and a journalist starts asking them questions about the DNC? Tanya Milligan and Ami Cusack had joined Sheridan Samano and Liz Weber (left to right) because they had open seats at their table. The women, all from the Denver area, began answering my question about their expectations of Obama and then took off from there – as if they were old friends.

By David Friedman, msnbc.com photojournalist

Hours after the party officially nominated Barack Obama for president convention-goers react to former President Bill Clinton's speech performance.

By David Friedman, msnbc.com photojournalist

Waiting in a hot security line, Nicole Devilaine, a journalist covering the DNC for France 2 television, explains the challenge of reporting on the convention for her French audience.

By David Friedman, msnbc.com photojournalist

Isaac Adams was one of thousands rushing toward the Pepsi Center security screening area Wednesday, trying to get inside for the roll-call vote. While Sen. Clinton released her delegates earlier today and many of the nomination process details still unclear, Adams talks about his expectations and hopes for the roll-call.

By David Friedman, msnbc.com photojournalist

People poured out of Denver's Pepsi Center following Sen. Clinton's speech Tuesday night. With so much attention focused in recent days on how Hillary would fare, I asked some of the attendees for their reaction.

By David Friedman, msnbc.com photojournalist

Tony Viessman and Les Spencer, both from Rolla, Mo., may need to hire their own press agent before they leave Denver. I passed their position several times today and each time they were being filmed, photographed and interviewed by different people. I couldn't resist asking Viessman myself – why does he think they're attracting so much attention?

By Kara Kearns & David Friedman, msnbc.com

We set out with msnbc.com's Courtney Hazlett to talk politics with Fall Out Boy fans at the Rock the Vote "Ballot Bash" in Denver on Monday night. Her agenda? To find out if the crowd was more interested in Barack Obama or the celebrities in attendance.

By David Friedman, msnbc.com photojournalist

Lori Scott, a delegate from Eau Claire, Wisc., paused on her walk toward the security screening area to talk about the closure she expects Sen. Clinton's appearance this evening will bring.

By David Friedman, msnbc.com photojournalist

One of many street vendors ringing the Pepsi Center, Jorall Frank drove all the way from El Sobrante, Calif., to sell souvenirs at the DNC.  In it both for profit and his belief in Sen. Obama, he says he's donating 35% of his proceeds to the campaign. He explains why people are making purchases.

By David Friedman, msnbc.com photojournalist

One of Florida's electors, delegate Carmen Torres says she always had faith that her state's electoral votes would be counted. A resident of Orlando, she describes her reaction when she found out she was selected to be an elector.

By David Friedman, msnbc.com photojournalist

Erik Burmeister, a delegate from San Jose, Calif., is a middle school principal and blogging about the convention for his students back home. Asked about support among the party for Sen. Clinton and what it means for Sen. Obama's presidential bid he maintains that a roll call vote for Hillary is "not a vote against Obama."

By David Friedman, msnbc.com photojournalist

I spotted Reg Krueger sitting Monday lunchtime in the mostly empty seats of the Pepsi Center hours before the convention would open on the floor. The singer John Legend was rehearsing on stage and Krueger looked very pleased to be sitting there watching. It turns out her pleasure was much more a sense of pride than anything else. Krueger, an electrician, and her fellow stagehands have been working for four weeks setting up the lighting for the convention.

By David Friedman, msnbc.com photojournalist

Msnbc.com photojournalist David Britt-Friedman captures the sights and sounds of the Democratic National Convention.

Lyndon Johnson was born 100 years ago this week, on Aug. 27, 1908, and one person who's even older than that and still around to talk about it is John "Cas" Casparis, the former president's high school classmate and debating partner.

President Johnson died in 1973, but Casparis, who celebrated his 100th birthday on June 29, is still going strong and remembers teaming up with LBJ at Johnson City High School.

LBJ Library

Cas Casparis (left) and Lyndon Johnson (right), 1924

"It was back in 1924 and Lyndon and I were selected as being a debating team to represent the Johnson City High School in the Blanco County portion of the state of Texas interscholastic debate literary events," Cas said in an interview.

The subject of the debate was whether the United States should join the League of Nations, which was formed after World War I as a precursor of the United Nations. Johnson and Cas argued in the affirmative.

"We won all three decisions of the judges, and we advanced to the district in San Marcos where we got third place, being beat out by a debating team from the high school in Kyle, Texas," Cas said.

What was Johnson like?

"That's like asking how far is up," Cas replied, showing some of his old debating skills. "Be more specific."

Well, was he a nice person?

"Sure, Lyndon was a nice person," Cas said. "We're all nice people, now. Just like in the country, neighbors, if they're really good neighbors, you say their chickens roost together. Well, our chickens and Lyndon's chickens didn't roost together, but we were still good neighbors and good friends."

So you liked him?

"It depends upon what you mean by like," Cas said. "We were friends. We were schoolmates."

Cas and Johnson lost touch with each other over the years, but Cas, who lives in Austin, did look LBJ up one time.

"I never saw him as president," Cas said. "I saw him once as senator. I happened to be in Washington, and I went up to the Capitol building and saw Lyndon. The Congress was in session, and of course he was subject to being on the Senate floor, so our interview was very brief."

Did he remember you?

"Oh, yes, oh, yes, oh, yes," Cas said.

Cas, who's retired from Western Union, where he worked as a window cashier, said LBJ followed in the political footsteps of his father, Sam Ealy Johnson.

"Now, Lyndon's father, Sam Ealy, was a member of the Texas Legislature, and he was for the poor man, the farmer and the rancher, and he served several sessions," he said. "That's where Lyndon got the idea to run."

When Johnson first started mulling a run for higher office, he approached Cas' father, who was sheriff of Blanco County.

"He saw my father and asked if my father would support him, and did my father think he had any chance?" Cas remembers. "And my father told him, 'Yes, you have a chance, and, yes, I'll vote for you.' And he did every time he ran for public office."

Did you vote for LBJ, too?

"Yes, I voted for him," Cas said. "I'm a Democrat. I pull one lever."

 

 

Jerry Beau is a national treasure, not only for his service to his country but also for his service to his fellow Marines and their families.

Beau, 89, served 24 years in the Marine Corps and has spent the last 52 years as the unpaid historian of the Marine Raiders Association, meticulously collecting service records and other information on 7,600 men who served with the elite Marine Raiders during World War II.

"We only have about 200 of the original Raiders left," he said in a recent interview.

Family photo

Marine 1st Lt. Jerome Beau, North China, 1946

Beau has filled 20 file drawers with muster rolls, discharge papers, obituaries and other documents on his fellow Raiders. His files are a gold mine of information for historians, the Raiders and their families.

A few years back, he sent Mrs. Dorothy Lockhart of Peoria, Ill., the war records of her late husband Jess, a Raider doctor in the South Pacific.

"Oh, my, he did a wonderful job," she said of Beau. "On a legal-sized piece of paper, the full front page and half of the back page, he had every place Jess was sent while he was in the Marines, every ship he was on and every landing he made. I was thrilled to death with what he did."

Beau began his own Marine career back in 1940, fresh out of Fond du Lac, Wis.

"They gave me a blanket and a railroad ticket and sent me to Parris Island, South Carolina," he said.

He volunteered when the Raiders were formed in 1942 to operate behind Japanese lines and conduct guerilla-type operations.

"We were special people, you know what I mean?" he said.

He fought with the Raiders on Guadalcanal and Bougainville, but in 1944 the Raiders were deactivated and became the 4th Marines.

"The war was expanding so much," he said, "and they didn't need us little pin-prickers anymore, you know."

Beau retired from the Marines in 1964 but continued as a Raider historian, a duty he had assumed eight years earlier.

"Interesting work," he said. "That's all I work on nowadays besides mowing the lawn and whatnot. I'm widowed so I'm living alone at the moment."

He runs his low-tech operation out of the front room of his home in Boise, Idaho.

"Do you have an e-mail address?" I ask him.

"No."

"No?"

"You know, I'm old-fashioned. I'm still kind of pencil and paper and whatnot."

"Is there a photo of you with all of your files?"

"No. The only picture I have I think is in World War II."

All of his files will one day go to the Marine Corps archives in Quantico, Va.

"Unless some other Raider wants to take it over and continue to get the historical records, you know," he said.

But how can you replace the irreplaceable?

"After 60 some years a lot of that stuff has disappeared," he said. "They can't find it and whatnot."

No, Jerry, I meant you.

www.dailynightly.msnbc.com (click on "John Rutherford" under "categories").

 

 

Aug. 14 doesn't have the ring of Dec. 7 (Pearl Harbor) or June 6 (D-Day) in the annals of World War II history, but on that summer day in 1945 Japan surrendered to the United States and its allies, ending the deadliest conflict in human history.

It's a date etched in the memories of three centenarians featured by Willard Scott on NBC's "Today" show.

"We kept the radio on," Winifred Jeeves, 100, said in a recent interview. "We didn't have television in those days. When the word came through, we were whooping it up and being so happy and relieved. You never knew what was going to happen until then."

Family photo

Win Jeeves and family, circa 1941

Three and a half years earlier, Win, her husband, their 8-year-old son and 6-year-old daughter had been on the last ship out of Manila before the Japanese invaded the Philippine capital in December of 1941.

"We were scared right out of our wits," she said. "We knew they were going to get into Manila because they were already in the [Philippine] islands. So we knew the next stop would be Manila, and we were on that boat out of there."

Despite the war, Win's ship made scheduled stops in Hong Kong and Honolulu on its way to San Francisco. The voyage took three harrowing weeks.

"We were very fortunate," Win said. "We got back without any unpleasant incidents."

Win and her family settled in Grosse Pointe, Mich., where they were living at war's end. Today, Win lives in Rancho Santa Margarita, Calif.

Bob Perkinson, also 100, was serving with the U.S. Army in Europe when Japan surrendered.

Family photo

Bob Perkinson during World War II

"I was just thankful," Bob remembers. "We got hold of some liquor and drank it, and I will say this, it was the only time in my life I've ever been drunk."

Bob had spent the war chasing Germans across Europe, and one night his unit actually drove right past them.

"It was moonlight, and we drove into a spot with German military vehicles on both sides of the road," he said. "We just had to keep moving, and I wondered when they were going to start shooting at us, but they didn't. We never saw a sign of a German. We got through all right, but if everyone's heart was where mine was, it was right in their teeth."

Bob figured the Germans had gone into a nearby house, possibly to sleep.

"But the racket we made should have woken them up, and they should have had guards out, anyway," he said. "They must have thought we were bait, that if they showed up they'd be shot at, but it sure scared us."

Bob came home to Peoria, Ill., in October of 1945, and he has lived there ever since.

Fannie Brown, 101, was serving as a Red Cross volunteer in Carteret, N.J., on Aug. 14, 1945.

"Oh, there was dancing in the street, and everyone was hollering, and we were very happy," Fannie remembers. "We were having a wonderful time."

Family photo

Fannie Brown in 1945

Fannie had spent the war knitting sweaters, rolling bandages and sending packages to the troops.

"Some of the boys said they were the best dressed men in the Army," Fannie said. "We went to the hospitals, we helped feed people, we went all over. Wherever they needed us, we went, during the blackouts and everything."

Fannie, who now lives in Las Vegas, Nev., also loved to sing songs during the war. There was one song she wasn't supposed to sing, but she sang it anyway:

"I didn't raise my boy to be a soldier,
I brought him up to be my pride and joy.
I wouldn't put a musket on his shoulder.
He'll kill another mother's boy."

On a personal note, my late mother wrote a description in 1945 of the war's end in Washington, D.C., for her infant sons.

"A blur of excitement - laughter and tears, back-thumping and leg of lamb on mint jelly, neighbors and martinis, and a bottle of champagne that had been hopefully put on ice days before," she wrote.

America's "Greatest Generation" not only knew how to win a war, but also how to celebrate the peace.

If you know of any centenarians who've had a brush with history over the past century, please tell us a little bit about them in the comments section below and be sure to fill in your return e-mail address so we can get back to you for more details

WASHINGTON - Patricia Angus was a senior at Rosary High School in San Diego and Chuck Scharf was a sophomore at San Diego State College when they first met through Chuck's younger sister in 1952.

"He was my steady from the very beginning, which my mother was against because she thought I should be meeting other men," Patricia said in an interview. "But I said, 'No, Mother, this is the young man I want to date.'"

Chuck and Patricia were married two years later, in 1954; he was 21 and she was 19.

"He was a sweetheart," she said, "handsome, loving, caring, just perfect."

Family photos

Chuck and Patricia Scharf, the early '60s

Fast forward to 1965. Chuck was an Air Force fighter pilot about to take off for Vietnam. Patricia was there to see him off, the pregnant wife of another pilot alongside her.

"He looked over at me, and I'm waving my scarf, and he salutes me," Patricia said. "And Donna Jewel turned and said, 'We're never going to see them again,' and I said, 'Yes, we are.' Well, guess what?"

Chuck's F4C Phantom II jet fighter was shot down over North Vietnam on Oct. 1, 1965, two weeks before he was due home.

"The doorbell rings, and I open the door, and there's the base commander," Patricia remembers. "I said, 'Chuck got shot down?' And he said, 'Yes.' And I said, 'Is he dead?' And he said, 'He's missing in action.'"

Missing in action, for the next 41 years.

"I prayed very hard," Patricia said. "I had hopes that somewhere they'd find him, but they didn't, and then they found the remains."

Human remains were excavated from Chuck's crash site, but DNA tests proved inconclusive. Stymied, the Air Force turned to Patricia, and that's when she remembered Chuck's love letters, about a hundred old love letters squirreled away in a trunk in her closet.

"And they said, real quietly, they paused for a few moments, and they said, 'Could we have about 12 of the envelopes, Mrs. Scharf? We'll return them to you.' And I said, 'Sure,' and that's how it happened."

DNA from Chuck's saliva on the stamps and seals of the envelopes matched bone fragments recovered from the crash site. Chuck's love letters from 1965 helped identify his remains in 2006.

"I finally had closure," Patricia said. "It was a great relief."

Patricia flew out to Hawaii and brought Chuck's remains home for burial at Arlington National Cemetery.

"As we were landing, the flight attendant said to the passengers, 'Ladies and gentlemen, last night we picked up a very special passenger from Hawaii. His name was Colonel Charles J. Scharf. He was shot down October 1st of 1965, and he was missing in action for 41 years. We are honored to bring him back home to his native America. God bless him and God bless his family.'"

The passengers broke into applause - and some tears - and Patricia stood up to thank them.

"I said to them, 'I want to thank you for your wonderful love at this moment for my husband and me. Thank you all ever so much.' I was getting very emotional. I still do when I say that."

Patricia never remarried, never even considered it. Chuck and Patricia's only child, a daughter, had been stillborn, so Patricia has no family. Now 74 and retired, she visits Chuck every week at Arlington, where he's buried along with some of those old love letters.

"I can go anytime I want to talk to him, and I love sitting out there, and I know where he's at," she said. "He's not in the mud, not lost forever in the jungle."

John Rutherford is an NBC News Producer based out of the Washington, D.C. bureau and is a decorated Vietnam veteran. He also posts stories on the military at www.dailynightly.msnbc.com (click on "John Rutherford" under "categories").

By Scott Foster, NBC News Pentagon Producer

At the Pentagon this week, officials held a ceremony commemorating the 60th anniversary of President Truman's then controversial executive order to integrate the U.S. armed forces.

The 93-year-old Truman speech writer and long time West Virginia politician Ken Hechler was on hand and recalled just how courageous that order was - given the prevailing attitude in the late 1940's held by many senior officers as well as a majority of Americans that Blacks shouldn't be treated as equals.

One historian described Truman's executive orders 9980 and 9981 of July 26,1948 as "revolutionary and politically reckless."

Hechler, who proudly displayed his blue and gold West Virginia mountaineer tie, declared, "Harry Truman, although he was brought up as a racist, became such a great champion of civil rights."

Missouri native Harry Truman had grandparents who owned slaves and as historian Michael Gardner describes, "was conditioned to be a racist."

Despite that background, Hechler noted his bosses' mantra, borrowed from Thomas Jefferson: "equal rights for all, special privileges for none."

The assembled audience of Pentagon senior officials, members of the fabled Tuskegee Airmen, several from the Montford Point Marines, and troops currently serving in the military listened intently to the words from one of the few remaining members of Truman's administration.

Even though true racial integration of the military proved to be a difficult and painful process for many African-Americans years after his order, Truman is credited with taking that first critical step in achieving equality for all in the armed services. It wasn't until 1954 when the last all African-American unit integrated.

Hechler recalled how as commander-in-chief Truman fought that pervasive racism in the senior ranks and took his generals to task for not initially falling in line with his civil rights initiative.

He noted one instance when five star Army General Omar Bradley, the so-called "GI's general" given his popularity amongst the rank and file, remarked that the Army "was no place for social experiments."

Truman's reaction to the Army Chief of Staff, Hechler recalled, was blunt.

"Believe me, he was called onto the carpet - Harry Truman talked to him in good old Missouri english and Omar Bradley changed his position pretty quickly," he said.

With Gallup polls in 1948 finding that 82 percent of Americans disagreed with his civil rights program, President Truman faced an uphill battle integrating the military. Coming just 100 days before the national election, the order sparked a revolt amongst Southern Democrats led by Dixicrat Strom Thurmond. Hechler noted that during this time Truman penned a diary entry showing his resolve, writing "how far would Moses have gone if he had taken a poll in Egypt?"

Although Truman's order was merely a first step along a long road to racial equality in the U.S. military, Hechler's first-hand account reveals Truman in many respects was a decisive leader who sought meaningful improvement in race relations.

Hechler, who interestingly was the only member of Congress to march with Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. in Selma in 1965, summed it up, saying "it takes forthrightness for people in positions of leadership and that was Harry Truman's moral compass - his moral compass showed up in those two fantastic executive orders."