Tuskegee Airman Daniel Keel fought two wars: WWII and racism

Daniel Keel had three reasons for going into the Air Force in 1943: a clean bed, three square meals every day and the fact that flying personnel received 50% more pay. What he didn't expect was the level of racism he would fight in his three years in the service during World War II.

OCOEE MEMORIAL DAY CEREMONY

WHEN: 11 a.m. Friday, May 27

WHERE: Ocoee Lakeshore Center, 125 N. Lakeshore Drive, Ocoee

DETAILS: Tuskegee Airman Daniel Keel will be the keynote speaker. The ceremony will include a processional to the Ocoee Memorial Wall, where a wreath will be set in place. After the ceremony, refreshments will be served. For information, call (407) 905-3100.

Now 93 and retired in Clermont, Keel has shared his incredible story many times through the years. He has been the guest of honor at many speaking engagements and has accepted multiple awards for his service to his country, which was achieved while fighting the daily challenges and prejudices of being a black man in the 1940s.

TRAINING

Keel arrived at Keesler Army Airfield, in Biloxi, Mississippi, as a 21-year-old private ready for two months of basic training. What he ended up doing was become part of the historic Tuskegee Experience, the Army Air Corps program developed by the U.S. War Department to train black men to fly and maintain combat aircraft.

Participants took a series of tests, and those who possessed the physical and mental qualifications were accepted as aviation cadets to be trained as pilots, navigators or bombardiers. Keel said 15,000 took and passed the exam. Another two-part test and an eight-hour psychological test followed.

Ten percent of the 300 test-takers passed — including Keel. Those who achieved the next level were sent to Tuskegee Institute (now Tuskegee University) in Alabama for three months of academic training.

“That was a joke,” Keel said. “At the end of six weeks, we were told it was cut short and we were sent to the base for preflight training.”

The trainees were informed the U.S. Army was forming a black bombing group, he said.

“We all said, ‘No, we want to be pilots.’ Six months later, when we were given our navigator wings, we were told they were running out of space.”

“We could not eat in the officer's mess (hall). We could not go in the officer's club. If we went to the theater, we couldn't sit in the officer's section. If we went to town, we had to ride the back of the bus.” — Daniel Keel, Tuskegee Airman

So, the navigator trained to be a bombardier at Midland Army Air Field, in Midland, Texas. There, he met Lt. Col. Phelps, deputy commander of Midland, the man who would try repeatedly — including issuing court martials — to keep Keel and the other black men from succeeding in the military. And he matter-of-factly told the men what to expect.

“We could not eat in the officer's mess (hall),” Keel said, even though they were officers. “We could not go in the officer's club. If we went to the theater, we couldn't sit in the officer's section. If we went to town, we had to ride the back of the bus.”

The first court-martialing attempt happened early on when the black officers went to the civilian mess hall at noon for lunch and were forced to wait until all of the white people were fed. Angered, they stormed the officer’s mess hall and demanded to be fed. They also signed a letter claiming racial discrimination and violation of expressed war department policies and sent it to a top military officials.

Phelps vowed to “get those negros if that’s the last thing he did,” Keel recalls him saying.

Instead, because of a lack of pilots, they were sent back to Tuskegee to train for that role. Of the 27 officers who returned to Alabama for the program, only three finished — including Keel.

Keel thinks Phelps had some kind of pull in Tuskegee, for Keel was among the first to be thrown out of pilot training before later being reinstated.

With two-and-a-half-weeks to go before graduation, all Keel had to do to earn his pilot wings and a promotion was to pass his cross-country instruction flight check. The day before, though, he developed a cold; someone told him the best remedy was a shot of Alabama moonshine. He spent seven days in the hospital.

To his surprise, he was given permission to fly the football team’s equipment to Camp LeJeune for a game that weekend.

“I flew a perfect mission down and a perfect mission back,” Keel said.

After a few more mishaps, he received his wings — but was denied the earned promotion. Still, he was a pilot.

THE RED TAILS

Black pilots were still thought of as incompetent behind the front lines, Keel said, but the bomber planes were experiencing heavy casualties because the white pilots were eager to rack up the kills to be considered an ace.

“Ace fighters would follow the enemy’s fighter planes, and the bombers were left without aid,” he said.

More and more white bomber pilots were requesting black fighter pilots because they knew of the Tuskegee group's dedication to the bombing missions and knew they weren't out to prove anything by chasing enemy planes and leaving their partner plane vulnerable to attack.

To identify each fighter group, the plane tails were painted various colors. The Tuskegee Airmen were also known as the Red Tails because of the distinctive red paint on their planes.

“I didn't want to be a bomber pilot,” Keel said. “As far as I'm concerned, they were sitting ducks. I would much rather be a fighter pilot. … A fighter pilot had something interesting to do. But with Phelps on my back, I became a bomber pilot instead of a fighter pilot.”

Those hard-earned pilot wings would never be put to use, however, because racism had created delays, Keel said. He had been scheduled for deployment to the Pacific in September 1945 with the 477th Bombardment Group, but the atomic bombs were dropped on Japan in August.

“We fought two wars during World War II. We fought racism and fascism, both at the same time.”

HOME SWEET HOME

By 1946, Keel's military service was up. He obtained a commercial pilot's license, but black pilots weren't allowed to fly commercial airplanes until the 1960s. The next time he would have the opportunity to take a private plane into the sky was in 2014 and 2015.

“It felt normal after all those years,” Keel said. “We took barrel rolls, slow rolls. … It almost made me feel like I'm in my 20s again.”

Following his stint in the military, Keel started an electrical contracting business in Massachusetts. He retired in 1998, and he and Barbara, his wife of 72 years, became Florida snowbirds. They settled permanently in Clermont eight years later.

The Keels have eight children and six grandchildren, as well as numerous great- and great-great-grandchildren.

In March 2007, the surviving Tuskegee Airmen met in the Library of Congress in Washington, D.C., to accept the Congressional Gold Medal.

“In my wildest dreams I never thought what the men of Tuskegee did would be remembered all those years later,” Keel said.

Contact Amy Quesinberry Rhode at [email protected].