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Since the early days of the American Republic, African Americans have been active participants in the military history of our nation. However, until the late 1940s, their experiences in the military, for the most part, occurred during the period of racial segregation, which often resulted in their being assigned to non-combat duties. Nevertheless, in spite of their status, they continued to exhibit loyalty to their country and served honorably.Students of American history are familiar with great military leaders whose heroic deeds during the military conflicts of the 19th and 20th centuries have become a part of our historical legacy. Much has been written about them as highly visible symbols of courage and leadership. Yet others, equally deserving remain unknown and have not received the same visibility in terms of public recognition. When I became aware of the life and career of General Roscoe Robinson, Jr., the first United States Army African American four-star general, I was surprised to learn so few people-even among my own generation of African Americans-had ever heard of him. Even in one of the most comprehensive history books about African Americans - From Slavery to Freedom, written by the well-known scholar, John Hope Franklin, Roscoe Robinson is not mentioned. In authoring this biography, I seek to fill this gap in our knowledge of this remarkable man who, from humble beginnings, rose to the pinnacle of military success through perseverance, discipline, and commitment to duty and country.Whenever I write something of an historical nature pertaining to the life and times of African Americans, I am always reminded of the admonition of one of America's most distinguished men of color - William E. B. Du Bois. It was he who-in a presentation in 1898 before the American Academy of Political and Social Science-advanced the notion that understanding black life in America required a systematic assessment of the influence of broad historical, cultural, social, economic, and political forces that shaped the times. There is no way of denying the subject of race in the military. It was an inescapable condition, which has riveted American social, cultural, and political systems before and during Robinson's time in the military. I have tried to convey that circumstance as accurately as possible. Indeed, in many respects, from his early childhood through his retirement years, Robinson lived through one of the most historic periods in race relations in this country - both within and outside the military.Today, men and women of all races make immense sacrifices to serve their country, defend our liberties, and protect our interests around the world; often without the gratitude and recognition, they deserve. It is my firm hope that this book will not only serve as an inspiration to all who read it, especially to the current generation of young African Americans (including my children and grandchildren) about whom General Robinson cared deeply, but that it will enable the readers to develop a greater appreciation for those who serve in the military.About the Author:Leon L. Haley, PhD, is a professor emeritus in the Graduate School of Public and International Affairs, University of Pittsburgh. Over twenty-five year tenure at the University, he served in a number of capacities, including an Associate Dean, Acting Dean, and a Vice Chancellor for Student and Public Affairs. With African American history as an avocation, in addition to The Quiet One, he is the author of From the Staunton to the Allegheny: an African American Family Journey. Specializing in strategic planning, he now serves as a consultant for nonprofit organizations.

When we entered Afghanistan airspace, the mountainous terrain full of snow reminded me of when I flew over them as an air force pilot.Where I live in the United States, I am close to a mountain range where it snows during the winter, but these mountains, of my native land, are very different. Seeing them took me back to another time in my life. It reminded me of the people who live around these mountains in the most primitive way of life with roots so deep and structured by tradition that they are perversely proud that the most powerful nation of the world, the United States, has difficulty understanding why they behave the way they do.We landed at Kabul International Airport. Things looked very different from what I remembered from forty years before. It did not look like the same country I left so long ago. Everything was filthy and broken. My wife, Fahima, and I couldn't hold back our tears. Through them we saw our country, which besides being primitive, was now ruined. The innocence of the country that I knew was gone. When we got out of the airplane, my cousin Mary (Mauree jan Ashraf) was waiting for us with a car. She warned me not to hug and hold her like we used to. Unlike the way she dressed while in the west, she was now covered from head to toe. The road to Kabul was totally different; many traffic circles and shack-like stores all around the street. Most buildings had barbed wire surrounding them for safety. One traffic circle named after the Soviet war hero Ahmad Shah Massoud (according to what I heard) was the most dangerous where suicide bombers (a tactic from Iraq) got close to a car they suspected was carrying foreigners, then blew up themselves and the cars around them. Check points by coalition and Afghan security forces were all around us. We headed toward the house where my cousin lived, which was next to the palace. I remembered the palace and the streets around it but I couldn't tell where I was. Most of the roads were barricaded and unrecognizable, barbed wire and guards were everywhere. To my disappointment I couldn't find my own home-where I was raised as a boy. The roads were blocked and when we got out of the car there were beautiful kids begging everywhere. As we passed by every corner, the flashback of my youth, my friends, our playgrounds; nothing matched-nothing I saw was the same.Fahima, and I cried for days for what was lost.I think it was at that point, even if only subconsciously at the time, when I knew I must write this story. It's largely about me and my family; where we came from, some of our past and present-and some about the future. Throughout it you'll find a message of faith and belief in one's self and in following your heart. And it's about doorways that we step through in life. It's been said, "When one door closes, another one opens." I believe this to be true-it has been so for me personally.It is sad that for Afghanistan those doors continue to lead to tenuous structures often without walls and ceilings; no roof, no stability. Just an opening that exposes its people to any number of outside influences and interference. To understand more of how and why that is so, in this story, I've included some of Afghanistan's past, present and thoughts on its future as well. I hope that you will sit for a while, read my story and even listen to the words and what they share with you. For the reader I promise that there are things you will glean from the reading and that you will learn about Afghanistan you did not know before.