Do you take delight in watching films, listening to pop music, or reading books? For English learners, movies, songs, and books are one of the most wonderful sources to explore the language! You can indulge in your favorite pastime and still learn some expressions, words of wisdom, and oftentimes good lessons while you’re at it.
Inspired by
the true events of the Houston Riot of 1917, also known as the Camp Logan
Mutiny, the film chronicles one of the most tragic chapters in American
military history. It follows the Army's all-Black 24th Infantry Regiment,
stationed in Houston, TX to guard a military training camp, only to find
themselves fighting a different kind of battle. Subjected to relentless racial
hatred, harassment, and brutal abuse by the city's white police force under the
oppressive Jim Crow system, the soldiers are pushed to the breaking point. As
injustice gives way to outrage, simmering tensions erupt into open rebellion,
culminating in a desperate march through the city and a violent armed
confrontation that would forever alter the lives of those involved.
(Private
William Boston said): “Sir, I joined the army to be of service to my country…and
my race. My intent is to be constructive with the other men of color, sir.”
ð Private
William Boston is portrayed as an educated and deeply principled soldier who
believes that honorable military service is a path toward earning respect,
dignity, and equal rights for Black Americans. His unwavering faith in his
country stands in stark contrast to the harsh reality of the Jim Crow South,
where racism and injustice remain deeply entrenched.
(Sgt.
Hayes said to Private Boston): “I got it movin’ up San Juan Hill alongside
Teddy Roosevelt. Gave it everything we had. Courage, blood…everything! In the
end, it was our dead black bodies on the ground,…and my eye! That lying son of
a bitch sailed off to the White House, took our credit! We don’t matter, boy.
Only thing worse than a dumb nigger is a blind one.”
ð Sgt.
Hayes's searing monologue serves as a sobering warning against the illusion
that patriotic service alone can secure equality for Black Americans. Drawing
on his own experiences as a Buffalo Soldier who fought at San Juan Hill, Hayes
recounts how Black troops risked—and in many cases gave—their lives, only to be
denied recognition and treated as second-class citizens. His bitter
disillusionment reflects the painful reality that their sacrifice was neither
fully acknowledged nor rewarded. This scene powerfully exposes the deep-rooted,
systemic racism embedded within the very institutions these soldiers faithfully
served, underscoring the tragic contradiction of fighting for a nation that
refused to fight for them.
(Private
Boston said to his woman Marie): “If you die fighting for justice, you never
really die.”
ð This is a scene where Private Boston
is telling his girlfriend Marie about a person's true legacy is measured not by
the length of their life, but by the ideals they are willing to sacrifice for.
Those who give their lives in the pursuit of justice and a righteous cause
leave behind something far more enduring than their physical existence—their
courage, convictions, and example continue to inspire others long after they
are gone. Those who stand and sacrifice for these ideals become symbols of hope
and resilience, inspiring future generations to continue the struggle they
began.
Boston
wants Marie to know that a person is only truly gone when their name,
sacrifices, and ideals fade from memory. By giving oneself for a noble cause,
one secures a place not only in history but also in the collective conscience
of humanity
** Jean’s Small Thoughts
Racism has
long been one of the most deeply rooted challenges in the United States.
Despite the progress the nation has made, racial prejudice and discrimination
continue to shape the lives of many people. As long as these injustices
persist, it is difficult to imagine a society where no one has to worry about
being judged, excluded, or targeted because of the color of their skin or their
ethnic background.
As I watched
The 24th, I was reminded of a painful experience from my own past in a
close-knit community in Southern California. Shortly after moving there, I was
invited to join a parents' organization called "Welcome Newcomers to the
Community." Ironically, it was one of the least welcoming gatherings I had
ever attended. Most of the members were white, along with a couple of Asian
participants who appeared even more eager to distance themselves from newcomers
than anyone else. Rather than including me in their conversations or giving me
an opportunity to introduce myself, they quietly excluded me from the group. I
found it both bewildering and painfully ironic that an organization created to
welcome new residents could make someone feel so invisible. Throughout the
meeting, I was left standing on the sidelines like an unwanted wallflower.
Their dismissive attitudes and quiet condescension were deeply discouraging,
and although several decades have passed, I still remember the loneliness and
disappointment I felt that day.
William Boston's
story embodies The 24th's central themes of duty, sacrifice, and the painful
contradiction of fighting for a nation that denied many of its own citizens the
very freedoms it claimed to defend. Through his character, the film honors the
resilience, patriotism, and quiet courage of Black soldiers who fought not only
to protect their country but also to earn the equality and dignity they had
long been denied.
If the United
States truly hopes to remain a beacon of freedom and opportunity, it must
strive to ensure that no one is marginalized or discriminated against because
of race or ethnicity. Patriotism cannot flourish where prejudice persists. A
nation is strongest not when it merely proclaims liberty, but when it extends
that promise equally to every one of its people. Otherwise, expressions of
patriotism risk becoming little more than slogans displayed on bumper stickers
rather than values genuinely reflected in everyday life.




