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CNN
4 days ago
- General
- CNN
Just two Navajo Code Talkers remain alive. Here's what they want America to know
Eighty years ago, as the sea swayed him from side to side on an attack vessel heading towards Iwo Jima, Thomas Begay started to feel afraid. 'On the ship, they said: 'get your last scrap of steak and eggs,'' he recalled. 'That gave (me) some kind of feeling in my stomach. What am I doing here? What's going to happen?' 'It's a scary thing,' the veteran told CNN from his home in Window Rock, Arizona. 'You don't know where the bullet or the bomb will come from.' Begay landed on the island as a member of the 5th Marine Division, but his role was unique: He was a Navajo Code Talker, deployed into battle to help the US military send encrypted messages that enemy forces were unable to decipher. More than 400 Navajo Code Talkers were sent to the Pacific during World War II, operating alongside the Marines at pivotal battles including those at Saipan, Guam, Tinian and Iwo Jima. Their code proved vital: it was never cracked by the Japanese, and allowed US troops to organize their movements without the enemy's knowledge. Thursday is National Navajo Code Talker Day – an annual celebration created by President Ronald Reagan in 1982. It is also the 80th anniversary of Japan's initial surrender in World War II, which effectively ended the costliest war in human history. The documents codifying their surrender were signed a few weeks later. Today, just two Code Talkers survive. CNN spoke to both – Peter MacDonald, 96, and Begay, who is now 100 – about their recollections from the war and how their contributions are recognized across the US. But while their service is recorded in history books, how they are remembered remains a live issue. The Code Talkers have been dragged into the Trump administration's crackdown on diversity, equity and inclusion (DEI) initiatives, and a years-long effort to create a dedicated national museum has stalled and may stretch beyond MacDonald and Begay's lifetimes. For MacDonald, they are trends with troubling historical echoes. 'It's a form of discrimination,' he told CNN of the Pentagon's deletion in March of webpages documenting their service – an act the Department of Defense reversed, but which drew fury across the Navajo Nation. 'Over 100 years, we lived through all of that discrimination.' 'We need to take a serious look at what we are doing here in America,' MacDonald added. 'At what America has done to Native Americans, and maybe other minorities.' 'We need serious discussion,' he said. 'We cannot go on this way.' The secretive and dangerous journey that led MacDonald into America's history books began when he saw another member of his clan in a Marines uniform. 'I asked: where can I get one of those beautiful uniforms you're wearing?' he told CNN. MacDonald was told he'd need to enlist with the Marines. But there was a problem: he was only 15, two years below the age requirement. That didn't deter him. 'We've been carrying rifles since we were 7 or 8 years old,' he said, telling his fellow clan member: 'We shoot rabbits, we shoot squirrels, we shoot birds, and sometimes I'm a better shot than you.' MacDonald lied about his age and enlisted. He told CNN that on his visit to the enrollment office, he said: 'I don't want the Japanese to ever come here to Window Rock, Arizona.' 'We had seen enough of (that) stuff before, and we don't like it,' he told CNN. 'This is our land and we're going to protect it.' There was an irony to his eagerness. Native people had been full American citizens for just two decades, but they still didn't have the right to vote. Many Native children, including a significant portion of the Code Talker cohort, were still being taken from their families and forced to enroll in boarding schools, where they were stripped of their language and other traditions. With the Marines MacDonald was summoned to a meeting, where he found dozens of fellow Navajo. And in that room, he discovered a secret: The same Navajo language that many of his peers were forced to abandon was now being used to win a war. The idea had been proposed to the Marines by Philip Johnston, an engineer and the son of a missionary who had grown up alongside Navajo children. It was nearly indecipherable: virtually nobody outside the Navajo nation spoke the language. The Code Talkers developed an extensive and complicated code based on their own language, which substituted key military and geographical terms for related images. 'Tank' became 'chay-da-gahi,' which means 'turtle.' 'Fighter plane' 'was da-he-tih-hi,' or 'hummingbird.' In many cases, they were forced to invent new words altogether, because Navajo didn't contain direct translations. When Code Talkers were deployed in battle they were assigned Marine escorts for protection after multiple Code Talkers were mistaken for Japanese soldiers and confronted by US troops. 'A lot of times we were mistaken for Japanese,' Chester Nez, a Code Talker who died in 2014, said in an oral history interview for the Library of Congress. Nez recalled being stopped by a Marine while walking back to camp with a fellow Code Talker on the island of Guadalcanal in 1942. Nez, barred from disclosing any information about the Code Talker program even to fellow Marines, said the pair were telephone operators. 'He didn't believe us,' Nez said 'This guy took a .45 and stuck it in my head and my body … that was the most scary thing that happened to me.' Code Talkers spoke into their hefty radios when an instruction needed relaying. For example, MacDonald explained that on Iwo Jima, a message needed to be sent to headquarters: 'Send demolition team to hill 362B.' The message that was transmitted over radio was: 'Sheep. Eyes. Nose. Deer. Destroyer. Tea. Mouse. Turkey. Onion. Sick horse. Three. Six. Two. Bear.' In all, more than 800 messages were sent between Code Talkers at Iwo Jima. Begay was one of those on the island, and he remembers how he felt when he saw an American flag raised on Mount Suribachi. It had been hoisted by six Marines days earlier, a moment captured in an iconic photograph by the Associated Press photojournalist Joe Rosenthal. 'My God,' he said. 'I was so proud.' When MacDonald and Begay returned to the US after the war, they were sworn to secrecy. The code talker program remained classified until 1968, in case the military should ever need to reactivate it. For the Navajo who powered the program, that meant returning to their pre-war lives, excluded from the heroes' welcome that many other returning soldiers received. 'We had really gotten used to being treated as a second-class citizen,' MacDonald said, adding his experience was 'no different' after his return. 'We were very much mistreated in America.' 'We were not rich at all,' he continued. 'We were just trying to survive. In the meantime, when you go into town, (non-Native) people make fun of you: people tell you … 'you don't sit there, you eat over there, you don't use this, you do that.'' Begay's son remembers the day the secret was lifted: his father came home and finally told his family what he had done during the war. 'Right away I started asking him questions at the dinner table,' said Ronald Begay, himself a veteran of the Army. 'I didn't know that, because it was never in the history books. I was proud of my dad.' Both men had long post-war careers. Begay retired in 1984 after 40 years of federal service as a superintendent at the Bureau of Indian Affairs in Chinle, Arizona. MacDonald's legacy is more complicated. He served four terms as the Navajo Nation chairman, becoming popular for aggressively championing Navajo sovereignty. But he was sentenced to jail time in 1990 on federal and tribal charges, including bribery and racketeering; his earlier refusal to step down when placed on administrative leave led to a lengthy standoff and ultimately a riot in which two of his supporters died. President Bill Clinton would ultimately commute his sentence to time served. At a White House reception hosted by President Donald Trump in 2017, MacDonald said he and his then-12 fellow surviving Code Talkers had one last mission: to ensure the memory of their accomplishments was kept alive. It is not a memory that has always been respected. MacDonald had hoped that 'Windtalkers,' a 2002 action movie based on their contributions, would serve as a cultural touchstone for a new generation. But the production was critically panned and criticized for its historical inaccuracies. 'They asked us to come to their opening,' MacDonald told CNN about the movie's premiere. 'And what do we see? About 20% of the movie was Navajo Code Talkers. 80% of the movie was about Nicolas Cage and whatever problem he was having with his girlfriend,' he said. For several years, one of the best collections of artifacts relating to the Code Talkers was found in an unlikely place: a Burger King in Kayenta, Arizona. Small exhibits also exist in museums in nearby Tuba City and in Gallup, New Mexico, but MacDonald has campaigned for a museum dedicated solely to the Code Talkers. That project is ongoing. Earlier this year, the surviving Code Talkers experienced an unexpected new assault on their legacy. Amid a sweeping purge of webpages that promoted diversity, equity and inclusion (DEI) efforts, the Pentagon wiped a number of pages honoring the contribution of MacDonald, Begay and their peers. It was part of a hurried crackdown that also saw the deletion of information completely unrelated to DEI issues – like Holocaust remembrance, suicide prevention and the Enola Gay aircraft – or pages that commemorated other war heroes like World War II Medal of Honor recipient Pfc. Harold Gonsalves and historically significant service members such as baseball great Jackie Robinson. 'The new administration came in, and I guess they want to change a lot of things,' MacDonald told CNN. 'They wanted nothing, no words, about Navajo Code Talkers.' Multiple defense officials told CNN at the time that military units were instructed to simply use keyword searches like 'racism,' 'ethnicity,' 'history' and 'first' when searching for articles and photos to remove. The Pentagon subsequently restored the pages, and Pentagon press secretary John Ullyot said in a statement at the time: 'In the rare cases that content is removed — either deliberately or by mistake — that is out of the clearly outlined scope of the directive, we instruct the components and they correct the content so it recognizes our heroes for their dedicated service alongside their fellow Americans, period.' The episode became a flashpoint in the national controversy over the Trump administration's targeting of DEI initiatives. Ronald Begay, who champions his father's efforts to preserve the Code Talkers' legacy, said he was 'appalled' by the saga. 'I immediately started texting the Navajo Code Talker descendants, as well as some prominent veterans – we support each other in various ways,' he said. 'Why would they do that?' he asked. 'After all, that's why we are free … our language was historic.' The episode was quickly undone. But for the Code Talkers and their descendants, it struck at the heart of a deep-rooted fear: that their legacy will be sidelined once MacDonald and Begay are not longer around to tell their stories. 'We need a good 'thank you' from the people who have become wealthy in America,' MacDonald said. He'd like a new movie to be made about their contribution, alongside a permanent, dedicated museum. MacDonald and other Code Talkers have campaigned for years to make the museum project a reality, but it remains tens of millions of dollars out of reach, the Santa Fe New Mexican newspaper reported in 2023. CNN has contacted organizers of the project for an update on its progress. 'I don't believe (people) understand this tremendous contribution to the battle in the Pacific War,' he said. 'It made all the difference in the world.' The next time a post-war milestone is met, it is possible that no Code Talkers will be alive to greet it. But MacDonald and Begay hope their contribution to American history is remembered once they are no longer present to tell their stories. 'I believe this is the only country in the entire world blessed by the holy ones,' MacDonald said. 'And we need to keep it that way.' But the Pentagon's DEI purge and the lack of progress on the long-running effort to cement the Code Talkers' legacy with a museum has angered him. 'We need to get back to serious thinking (about) how we're gonna live into the next century,' he said.
Forbes
03-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Forbes
A New Way To See Santa Fe: 12th Site Santa Fe International
SITE SANTA FE. Nick Merrick © Hall+Merrick 2017 With nearly 300 galleries, a dozen world class museums, and artwork on display and for sale in every nook and cranny across town, Santa Fe can make for an overwhelming destination for art lovers. How to see everything? Impossible, of course. A new project, however, offers something of a visitor's guide. The 12th SITE SANTA FE International opened June 27th and runs until January 12, 2026. Hosted at more than a dozen prominent and little-explored locations, the exhibition introduces guests to The City Different by way of global and local contemporary art along with historic work from prominent New Mexico artists. Along the way, visitors will be introduced to the city and state, and their histories, through a cast of characters living and dead, real and imagined, via more than 70 artists. Titled 'Once Within a Time , ' this edition of the International is grounded in the lives and stories of over 20 'figures of interest' with strong ties to New Mexico and the region. Not Georgia O'Keeffe. Exhibition curator Cecilia Alemani went deeper than that. Best known for her work curating art along New York's beloved High Line and the 2022 Venice Biennale, Alemani's research into the Land of Enchantment led her to Doña Tules, a notorious 19th century saloon owner known as the 'Queen of Sin;' Chester Nez, the last surviving member of the so-called 'Original 29' Navajo Code Talkers; acclaimed writers Willa Cather and Vladimir Nabokov; Lilli Hornig, a chemist and scientist who contributed to the Manhattan Project at Los Alamos, NM; the fictional healer Ultima, conceived of by the writer Rudolfo Anaya; and La Malinche, an enslaved Nahua woman and translator for the Spanish Conquistador Hernán Cortés. For starters. Eschewing an overarching theme, Alemani has chosen to tell a multitude of individual stories using more than 300 artworks spanning mediums from etchings, drawings, photography, painting, film, sculpture, and installation. Many are spectacularly strange. Makers come from as far away as Taiwan, India, and Bosnia; others call Santa Fe home. The 12th International takes its title, 'Once Within a Time,' from the most recent film by Godfrey Reggio, the legendary Santa Fe-based experimental filmmaker who is also a participating artist in the exhibition. Reggio's Once Within a Time (2022), on view at SITE SANTA FE, intertwines fairytale atmospheres with apocalyptic landscapes, blending the fantastical and the mundane. Alemani was a fan growing up in Italy. Evidence of Santa Fe's influence on the international art world, and the international art world's interest in Santa Fe. SITE SANTA FE / Railyard Arts District Simone Leigh sculpture (foreground) with Helen Cordero storyteller ceramics (background) installed at SITE SANTA FE as part of 12th SITE SANTA FE International. © Brad Trone SITE SANTA FE is a non-collecting art institution founded in 1995 to establish the first international contemporary art biennial in the United States. It has grown to include a dazzling physical location with free admission hosting world-class temporary exhibitions and events in the city's Railyard Arts District. The International has no starting or ending point, but beginning at SITE makes sense. Be sure to pick up the exceptional guide detailing each artist and their work along with a locations map upon arrival at any of the locations. Simone Leigh's (b. 1967, Chicago) monumental sculptures celebrating Black women and their traditions make a dramatic first impression. Leigh represented the United States at the Venice Biennial Alemani curated. Placing one of her figures with Helen Cordero's (1915–1994; Cochiti Pueblo) ceramic storytellers makes an inspired pairing. Alemani stated that Cordero's storytellers were an essential early 'get' when conceiving the International. Cordero was one of the first to innovate this style of Pueblo pottery depicting children sitting on an adult ready for story time. The motif has become exceedingly popular. While the 12th International is an exhibition of global contemporary art, gratefully, it honors elder Indigenous artists from what is now called New Mexico. The old-school, mid-20th century 'Flatstyle' paintings of icons Pablita Velarde (1918–2006, Santa Clara Pueblo), Awa Tsireh (b. 1898–1955, San Ildefonso Pueblo), Pop Chalee (1906–1993, Taos Pueblo), and Julian Martinez (1879–1943, San Ildefonso Pueblo)–Maria Martinez' husband–feel as fresh and lively as anything produced this year. Exceptional examples of all are on view at SITE for the International. Anyone visiting Santa Fe via the Albuquerque Sunport airport, be sure to notice the two Pop Chalee murals beside the elevator. N. Scott Momaday's (1934–2024; Kiowa/Cherokee) Plains Indian warrior shield etchings displayed in a gallery with Leigh's sculptures and Cordero's storytellers are a revelation. The color. The detail. The cultural significance. Momaday lived in Santa Fe and is best known as poet. Literature serves an important supporting role for the International. New writing and poetry commissions are featured. Writers expanding their creativity to visual arts are found throughout the exhibition. D.H. Lawrence's (1885–1930) 'banned in Britain' 'erotic paintings' from the late 1920s made their way to Taos, NM, 70 miles north of Santa Fe, where the provocative author–'Lady Chatterley's Lover' (1932)–spent 11 months over three visits. They make a rare public appearance at SITE for the International. As do Vladimir Nabokov's (1899–1977)–'Lolita' (1955)–lepidoptery sketches on loan from the New York Public Library. He visited New Mexico in the summer of 1941 to indulge his passion for butterflies, staying at the El Rey Court hotel in Santa Fe. Pulitzer Prize winner Willa Cather (1873–1947) visited the Southwest six times between 1912 and 1926. What she saw there inspired 1927's 'Death Comes for the Archbishop,' based on the life of the first bishop of the diocese of Santa Fe. Her circa 1924 Santa Fe tourist map, 'The Most Wonderful 50 Mile Square in America,' is a gem. Before leaving SITE, spend time with Agnes Pelton's (1881–1961) delicate, cosmic, ethereal paintings of the New Mexico desert. She was associated with the short-lived Transcendental Painting Group working around New Mexico between 1938 and 1942. Plan on spending an afternoon at SITE and the Railyard. Be sure to visit Railyard Park, Blue Rain Gallery for contemporary Native American art, and Tomasita's for New Mexico cuisine (expect a wait). The Plaza / Downtown Maja Ruznic murals installed inside St. Francis Auditorium at the New Mexico Museum of Art as part of 12th SITE SANTA FE International. © Brad Trone Consider a visit to the Plaza compulsory when traveling to Santa Fe. Surrounding it are a universe of galleries, boutiques, restaurants, and museums. Those museums include the New Mexico History Museum (and the O'Keeffe Museum). NMHM's campus includes the circa 1610 Palace of the Governors, the oldest public building constructed by European colonizers continuously in use in the continental U.S. The building dates to the area's Spanish Colonial period. It is easy to recognize for the Native American artists selling their work outside 365 days a year. All artists are registered assuring authenticity. Inside the Palace of Governors, sharing a wall with the Native artists on the outside, find a presentation of original artwork from, and historic items sourced by, Daisy Quezada Ureña (b. 1990, Anaheim, CA). Among them, one of the great artifacts of American history: bell fragments from the old Spanish mission at Jemez Pueblo. The first American revolution took place in the Southwest, not along the East Coast. Its leader was Po'Pay, not George Washington. United were more than 45 pueblos, not 13 colonies. The enemy was the Spanish, not the British. The Pueblo Revolt of 1680 vanquished a colonial overlord nearly 100 years before the events of 1776 on the other side of the continent. It remains the only successful Native uprising against a colonizing power in North America. When the residents of Jemez booted out their Spanish colonizers, they broke up, scattered, and buried the church bell that rang telling them when to wake up, work, and eat. Amazingly, remnants of that bell were subsequently found. The fragments are typically on view at the Museum of Indian Arts and Culture in Santa Fe, but Ureña received special permission from MIAC and the Pueblo of Jemez to incorporate them into her project. She also received special permission from NMHM to open a wall in the Palace of Governors in which to place the artifacts. Think–deeply–about what you're seeing when you see these bell fragments. Think about resistance, freedom, colonization, survival, ancestors. Think about the pueblos and Pueblo people across New Mexico. The people selling their artwork on the other side of the wall. Across the street from the New Mexico History Museum, the New Mexico Museum of Art displays Maja Ruznic's (b.1983, Brčko, Yugoslavia (present-day Bosnia and Herzegovina) stunning contemporary murals responding to Donald Beauregard's (1884–1914) historic murals inside the St. Francis Auditorium. All these references to saints and Catholicism across New Mexico are remnants of Spanish colonialism. Ruznic's feminine, pagan, witchy, green, abstracted paintings are a delightful contrast to Beauregard's dogma. The soaring room has never looked better. Be sure to glance up at the ceiling. The thick, painted, carved timber beam ceilings throughout the NMMA are a wonder. Several days could be spent exploring the shoppes, eateries, and historic sites within a couple blocks of the Plaza. Multiple 'Once Within a Time' venues surround it. See Zhang Yunyao's (b. 1985, Shanghai, China) small-scale drawings inside Shiprock Santa Fe, a second-story gallery specializing in museum-quality vintage and antique Diné and Southwestern tribal textiles, jewelry, and pottery. Shiprock refers to a peak and town on the Diné (Navajo) reservation in northwest New Mexico. Two blocks from the Plaza, Santa Fe Village's Unit 13 provides one of the International's most unusual 'galleries.' Recalling a historic trading post, way in the back corner in what feels like a cellar, Amol K. Patil (b. 1987, Mumbai, India) found a space reminding him of his native Mumbai. His automated light installation is worth a quick peek. Adjacent to Santa Fe Village on the Plaza side, be sure to stop in at Keshi gallery to admire the authentic Zuni fetishes. Museum Hill Raven Halfmoon sculptures displayed outside Wheelwright Museum of the American Indian as part of 12th SITE SANTA FE International. © Brad Trone The Wheelwright Museum of the American Indian was the first institution in Santa Fe to collect contemporary Native American art. That's its contribution to the International. Raven Halfmoon's (b. 1991, Caddo) monumental ceramic female figures installed outside greet visitors to the Museum. One, Soku & Nash (Caddo – Sun & Moon) (2022), faces Sun and Moon Mountain. Museum Hill offers some of the best views in Santa Fe. Inside, paintings from Emmi Whitehorse (b. 1957, Navajo), a video from 2022 MacArthur Foundation 'Genius Grant' recipient Sky Hopinka (b. 1984; Ho-Chunk/ Luiseño), delicate needlework textiles by Cristina Flores Pescorán (b. 1986, Lima, Peru) resembling her organs, and a room-filling Nora Naranjo Morse (b. 1953, Kha'P'o Owenge (Santa Clara Pueblo)) fabric sculpture composed of discarded items sourced in the Jornada del Muerto (Dead Man's Journey) region of Southern New Mexico are in service to John Chee Arviso (1910–2005, Navajo), the Wheelwright's 'person of interest.' The cattle rancher worked as Museum founder Mary Cabot Wheelwright's local Diné bizáád-to-English translator beginning in the late 1940s. He'd eventually drive her across the Southwest on multiple expeditions, photographs of which are displayed in a family album in the gallery. Before leaving, make sure to peep the world's finest collection of Southwestern jewelry and Naranjo Morse's daughter Eliza's mural leading downstairs to the Case Trading Post. The retail shop recreates an old Southwest Native American trading post and sells authentic vintage and contemporary Native American art by masters and emerging artists, including pottery, jewelry, textiles, baskets, fetishes, and paintings. At the Museum of International Folk Art, visitors who can pull themselves away from the gonzo installation of more than 100,000 folk art pieces installed in the Girard Wing will be astonished by the cave-like environment Zhang Xu Zhan (b. 1988, Xinzhuang, Taiwan) has created in a lower-level gallery. Enclosed in a 'paper skin' of local newspapers, Zhang Xu's spectacular stop motion video and the astoundingly intricate character figures used in the film defy belief. The New Mexico Military Museum has free admission and Karla Knight's (b. 1958, New York) pictograph, glyph, extraterrestrial communication-inspired paintings as a highlight. Check out the schedule of indy, art house, foreign films, and documentary screenings along with live performances at the Center for Contemporary Art next door. Tesuque Korakrit Arunanondchai 'Nostalgia for Unity' (2024) installation as part of 12th SITE SANTA FE International. © Brad Trone Six miles north of downtown near the Santa Fe Opera, the small town of Tesuque–pronounced 'tuh-sue-K'–presents the exhibition's most bizarre artworks, free of charge. Put '1508 Bishop's Lodge Road, Tesuqe, NM' into a GPS to locate Korakrit Arunanondchai's (b. 1986, Bangkok, Thailand) hazy, smokey, spooky, haunted-house-like installation Nostalgia for Unity (2024) featuring a spongy floor partly comprised of ashes from Santa Fe's annual burning of Zozobra. Occupying an abandoned foundry building, Arunanondchai's artwork combined with Max Hooper Schneider's (b. 1982, Los Angeles) entombed monkey in an adjacent room will make visitors wonder if they've stumbled onto a horror movie set as extras. Back towards the road at the main building, Guillermo Galindo (b. 1960, Mexico City, Mexico) has crafted a magnificent suspended sculpture using charred wood from a 2024 New Mexico wildfire in a gallery room adjacent to David Horvitz' (b. 1980, Los Angeles) 4,550 glass marbles. flock of wingless birds (2025) remembers the 4,555 men imprisoned in Santa Fe as part of the barbaric system of concentration camps set up to detain American residents and citizens of Japanese descent across the Western U.S. during World War II. The artist's grandmother was interned in a similar ad hoc prison known as Camp Amache in Grenada, CO. Unaffiliated with the International, the Tesuque Glass Works next to 1508 Bishop's Lodge Road is worth a look. Don't head back to Santa Fe without grabbing a bite at Tesuque Village Market. There's a lot to see in 'Once Upon a Time.' There's a lot to see in Santa Fe. You haven't even made it to Canyon Road yet. More From Forbes Forbes International Folk Art Market In Santa Fe: Artisan Retail With A Purpose By Chadd Scott Forbes A First-Time Visitor's Guide To Indigenous Art In Santa Fe By Chadd Scott Forbes Santa Fe, New Mexico: Winter Wonderland By Chadd Scott
Yahoo
25-03-2025
- General
- Yahoo
After Pentagon temporarily purges references to Native American Code Talkers' contributions to World War II, here's a look back at their impact
Mar. 24—As part of what an aide to Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth reportedly called a "digital content refresh," many references on the Pentagon's website that honored Native Americans who used their ancestral language as an unbreakable code to help American forces in the Pacific Theater of World War II were purged last week. The outcry was instant, and the Pentagon restored the webpages days later. The webpages that had been taken down included the story of Pfc. Ira Hayes, a Pima Indian, who was one of six U.S. Marines memorialized in an iconic photograph as they lifted an American flag on the peak of Mount Suribachi in Iwo Jima. Taken on Feb. 23, 1945, the image became a symbol of American resilience and the inspiration for the Marine Corps War Memorial. Hayes was a Code Talker, a Native American who used his language to baffle the Japanese forces. Descriptions of that moment and the contributions of other Code Talkers, who mostly were Navajo and Comanche service men, had been erased as part of the Trump administration's crackdown on what it calls "diversity, equity and inclusion" efforts by the federal government. That history had a connection to the Spokane area when the Coeur d'Alene Tribal Council invited some Code Talkers as their featured guests for the 2002 Julyamsh Powwow. Among those who spoke in Post Falls that day was Teddy Draper Sr. Draper, who died in 2017 at the age of 93, made the radio call in 1945 announcing that Marines had hoisted the flag on Suribachi. Here's a Spokesman-Review story documenting that 2002 event with Draper. It has been lightly edited: Code Talkers' secret helped win war: A language that saved lives is worth saving, Navajos say As five U.S. Marines struggled to erect an American flag on Iwo Jima's Mount Suribachi, Marine Teddy Draper Sr. laid down cover fire and grabbed his radio. Some 30 yards away from the scene that later became the memorial for all fallen Marines, Draper, a Navajo "Code Talker," made the call that the flag had been raised. Draper, and more than 400 other Navajos, used a code made up of words they spoke every day. The Japanese never broke it, even though they had solved every previous U.S. military code. "Our language is very important," Draper, 79, said on July 25, 2002. "I hope people understand that this language saved many lives. "It saved the liberties that we have." Draper and Bill Toledo, 78, were the featured guests at a preview of Indian art to kick off the 2002 Julyamsh Powwow. Coeur d'Alene Tribal Council member Cliff SiJohn introduced the Code Talkers — who belonged to a group that was the basis of the 2002 movie "Windtalkers," starring Nicholas Cage. "Park this in your mind that you were able to see these gentlemen," SiJohn said of Draper and Toledo. They "stood forward for all Indian nations and for (their) country." The contributions — which came at a time when Indians couldn't even vote — helped win the war. Their story started on a reservation near the Arizona-New Mexico border. Draper was in school on Dec. 7, 1941 — the day Japan attacked the U.S. naval base at Pearl Harbor. Early the next year, as the Navy began to engage Japanese forces, 29 Navajos were selected to create a military code using their unwritten and extremely complex language. The Navajos developed a code made up of fewer than 500 words to help platoons and companies communicate with battalion headquarters during intense battles. Because military terms are not a part of the Navajo language, the code developers used words such as "lo-tso," which means whale, for battleship; or "dah-he-tih-hi," hummingbird, for fighter plane. Draper and Toledo — two of only about 150 Code Talkers still alive in 2002 — fought in the island-hopping campaign that inched ever closer to Japan. They landed in the Solomon Islands, in Guam and in one of the bloodiest battles of the Pacific campaign — Iwo Jima. Trained as Marines, it was the Code Talkers' job to string telephone lines between units. "We had really good preparation before we invaded Iwo Jima" in February 1945, Draper said. On the landing craft that hit the Iwo Jima beach, Draper was in the same group as Marine Pfc. Ira Hayes, a Pima Indian. Hayes died drunk in a ditch 10 years after the war. He suffered from shell shock, which is now known as post-traumatic stress disorder. His life and demise was later memorialized in the song "The Ballad of Ira Hayes" made popular by Johnny Cash. "After we landed, there was a lot of resistance. The bullets were buzzing over us, behind us, among us. We were pinned down," Draper said. "A lot of Marines got killed on the beach." During the lengthy battle, an artillery shell blew up, destroying Draper's nose and injuring his eyes. Draper's loss of hearing is also attributed to that blast, said his son, Ted Draper Jr. The elder Draper didn't discuss the other significant incident in the battle. "He saved a whole platoon and shot six Japanese," Ted Draper Jr. said. "He doesn't tell it a lot. It's not the Navajo way — telling about killing. It's not easy. "We try not to glorify war," he continued. "It's the people who do things, not one single warrior." Draper's injuries were treated on a hospital ship, and he was sent back into action. As of 2002, Draper had not received a Purple Heart or any other commendations, though that was rectified when he received one in 2004 some 59 years after he was wounded. In addition, Draper and 300 other Native American servicemen were later awarded Congressional Silver Stars following interest sparked by "Windtalkers." After Japan surrendered, Draper used the code as American forces occupied the Japanese mainland. As he was being discharged from the Marines in San Diego, military officials told him to keep the code a secret or they would throw him in jail. He, and every other Code Talker he knew, kept the secret. The younger Draper said he grew up not knowing about the contributions of his father or uncles. Finally, in 1968, the secret was made public. Ted Jr. had already graduated from high school. "It was kind of like a story that was unbelievable. This isn't right. Our language was used ... to win the South Pacific battle?" said Draper, who had five uncles who were Code Talkers. "Not a single one of them said a word of what they did in the war. My uncle Howard went to his death bed without breaking the code of being a Code Talker." For Code Talker Bill Toledo, the wait was even longer. When he was discharged in San Diego, a Marine colonel stopped Toledo as he walked past his office. "He said, 'You keep your mouth shut about the code you used, because it might be used again.' I kept my mouth shut until 1981," he said. One day that year, he came home to find his daughter and wife standing at the door. Earlier that day, his daughter dropped his service picture and discovered Toledo's discharge papers between the photograph and the frame. The papers identified him as a Code Talker. "They asked why I never told them I was a Code Talker. I said, 'Nobody asked.' They never knew they had one with them for all those years," he said. Toledo, who died in May 2016 at the age of 92, and the younger Draper had mixed reviews in 2002 of the movie about the Code Talkers' exploits. "There was a lot of action and some of the things we did. It was good entertainment," Toledo said. "But too much Hollywood." But even the best movie couldn't replicate the progress Code Talkers gave their people, Draper said. "Up until 1968, our kids were being severely punished for speaking Navajo at school," Ted Draper Jr. said. "Then they saw our language won a war. "When that happened, there was a tremendous renaissance of Navajo history, language and culture," Draper continued. "It then became required in our schools and still is to this day. "And that is their greatest contribution." Editor's note: This article was changed on March 24, 2025, to correct the age of Teddy Draper Sr. when he died in 2017. He was 93.
Yahoo
23-03-2025
- General
- Yahoo
After Pentagon temporarily purges references to Native American Code Talkers' contributions to World War II, here's a look back at
Mar. 22—As part of what an aide to Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth reportedly called a "digital content refresh," many references on the Pentagon's website that honored Native Americans who used their ancestral language as an unbreakable code to help American forces in the Pacific Theater of World War II were purged last week. The outcry was instant, and the Pentagon restored the webpages days later. The webpages that had been taken down included the story of Pfc. Ira Hayes, a Pima Indian, who was one of six U.S. Marines memorialized in an iconic photograph as they lifted an American flag on the peak of Mount Suribachi in Iwo Jima. Taken on Feb. 23, 1945, the image became a symbol of American resilience and the inspiration for the Marine Corps War Memorial. Hayes was a Code Talker, a Native American who used his language to baffle the Japanese forces. Descriptions of that moment and the contributions of other Code Talkers, who mostly were Navajo and Comanche service men, had been erased as part of the Trump administration's crackdown on what it calls "diversity, equity and inclusion" efforts by the federal government. That history had a connection to the Spokane area when the Coeur d'Alene Tribal Council invited some Code Talkers as their featured guests for the 2002 Julyamsh Powwow. Among those who spoke in Post Falls that day was Teddy Draper Sr. Draper, who died in 2017 at the age of 96, made the radio call in 1945 announcing that Marines had hoisted the flag on Suribachi. Here's a Spokesman-Review story documenting that 2002 event with Draper. It has been lightly edited: Code Talkers' secret helped win war: A language that saved lives is worth saving, Navajos say As five U.S. Marines struggled to erect an American flag on Iwo Jima's Mount Suribachi, Marine Teddy Draper Sr. laid down cover fire and grabbed his radio. Some 30 yards away from the scene that later became the memorial for all fallen Marines, Draper, a Navajo "Code Talker," made the call that the flag had been raised. Draper, and more than 400 other Navajos, used a code made up of words they spoke every day. The Japanese never broke it, even though they had solved every previous U.S. military code. "Our language is very important," Draper, 79, said on July 25, 2002. "I hope people understand that this language saved many lives. "It saved the liberties that we have." Draper and Bill Toledo, 78, were the featured guests at a preview of Indian art to kick off the 2002 Julyamsh Powwow. Coeur d'Alene Tribal Council member Cliff SiJohn introduced the Code Talkers — who belonged to a group that was the basis of the 2002 movie "Windtalkers," starring Nicholas Cage. "Park this in your mind that you were able to see these gentlemen," SiJohn said of Draper and Toledo. They "stood forward for all Indian nations and for (their) country." The contributions — which came at a time when Indians couldn't even vote — helped win the war. Their story started on a reservation near the Arizona-New Mexico border. Draper was in school on Dec. 7, 1941 — the day Japan attacked the U.S. naval base at Pearl Harbor. Early the next year, as the Navy began to engage Japanese forces, 29 Navajos were selected to create a military code using their unwritten and extremely complex language. The Navajos developed a code made up of fewer than 500 words to help platoons and companies communicate with battalion headquarters during intense battles. Because military terms are not a part of the Navajo language, the code developers used words such as "lo-tso," which means whale, for battleship; or "dah-he-tih-hi," hummingbird, for fighter plane. Draper and Toledo — two of only about 150 Code Talkers still alive in 2002 — fought in the island-hopping campaign that inched ever closer to Japan. They landed in the Solomon Islands, in Guam and in one of the bloodiest battles of the Pacific campaign — Iwo Jima. Trained as Marines, it was the Code Talkers' job to string telephone lines between units. "We had really good preparation before we invaded Iwo Jima" in February 1945, Draper said. On the landing craft that hit the Iwo Jima beach, Draper was in the same group as Marine Pfc. Ira Hayes, a Pima Indian. Hayes died drunk in a ditch 10 years after the war. He suffered from shell shock, which is now known as post-traumatic stress disorder. His life and demise was later memorialized in the song "The Ballad of Ira Hayes" made popular by Johnny Cash. "After we landed, there was a lot of resistance. The bullets were buzzing over us, behind us, among us. We were pinned down," Draper said. "A lot of Marines got killed on the beach." During the lengthy battle, an artillery shell blew up, destroying Draper's nose and injuring his eyes. Draper's loss of hearing is also attributed to that blast, said his son, Ted Draper Jr. The elder Draper didn't discuss the other significant incident in the battle. "He saved a whole platoon and shot six Japanese," Ted Draper Jr. said. "He doesn't tell it a lot. It's not the Navajo way — telling about killing. It's not easy. "We try not to glorify war," he continued. "It's the people who do things, not one single warrior." Draper's injuries were treated on a hospital ship, and he was sent back into action. As of 2002, Draper had not received a Purple Heart or any other commendations, though that was rectified when he received one in 2004 some 59 years after he was wounded. In addition, Draper and 300 other Native American servicemen were later awarded Congressional Silver Stars following interest sparked by "Windtalkers." After Japan surrendered, Draper used the code as American forces occupied the Japanese mainland. As he was being discharged from the Marines in San Diego, military officials told him to keep the code a secret or they would throw him in jail. He, and every other Code Talker he knew, kept the secret. The younger Draper said he grew up not knowing about the contributions of his father or uncles. Finally, in 1968, the secret was made public. Ted Jr. had already graduated from high school. "It was kind of like a story that was unbelievable. This isn't right. Our language was used ... to win the South Pacific battle?" said Draper, who had five uncles who were Code Talkers. "Not a single one of them said a word of what they did in the war. My uncle Howard went to his death bed without breaking the code of being a Code Talker." For Code Talker Bill Toledo, the wait was even longer. When he was discharged in San Diego, a Marine colonel stopped Toledo as he walked past his office. "He said, 'You keep your mouth shut about the code you used, because it might be used again.' I kept my mouth shut until 1981," he said. One day that year, he came home to find his daughter and wife standing at the door. Earlier that day, his daughter dropped his service picture and discovered Toledo's discharge papers between the photograph and the frame. The papers identified him as a Code Talker. "They asked why I never told them I was a Code Talker. I said, 'Nobody asked.' They never knew they had one with them for all those years," he said. Toledo, who died in May 2016 at the age of 92, and the younger Draper had mixed reviews in 2002 of the movie about the Code Talkers' exploits. "There was a lot of action and some of the things we did. It was good entertainment," Toledo said. "But too much Hollywood." But even the best movie couldn't replicate the progress Code Talkers gave their people, Draper said. "Up until 1968, our kids were being severely punished for speaking Navajo at school," Ted Draper Jr. said. "Then they saw our language won a war. "When that happened, there was a tremendous renaissance of Navajo history, language and culture," Draper continued. "It then became required in our schools and still is to this day. "And that is their greatest contribution."
Yahoo
23-03-2025
- Politics
- Yahoo
Stop the insanity. Don't let sports fat cats take school money
Where is my friend and legislative representative, Jeff Weninger, the fiscal conservative? Why is he, of all elected officials, the prime sponsor of legislation to take away tax dollars from cities, counties, the state and schools? Yes, our fiscally conservative Jeff Weninger wants to give tax revenues to a sports franchise owned by billionaires for improving and maintaining a Major League Baseball stadium. I love baseball, I love the Arizona Diamondbacks. I was there at the beginning helping, in my small way, to bring Major League Baseball to the Valley. But, as a former city administrator and school board member, I love our basic necessities much more than to take needed monies from them. Yet, it is our very own, fiscally conservative representative, Jeff Weninger, leading the way. Where are our city leaders and school board members? Where are the parents whose children will be impacted. The Diamondbacks are a vital business for downtown Phoenix. But their value has increased to almost $1.5 billion dollars. Who will profit when that franchise is sold.? Not the taxpayers. It's time to stop this insanity Ron Pies, Chandler Regarding Phil Boas' column 'Arizona lost one of its best senators because lawmaker pay stinks': Sure, I'd support a living wage for lawmakers, subject to a few conditions: 1) Streamline the legislative process. 2) Prohibit and punish actual and apparent conflicts of interest, with ironclad bans on sponsoring, voting or participating in any way on any matter that affects a legislator's private business interests. 3) Mandate that the auditor general annually audit the state's financial performance and compliance. 4) Publish the financial and business interests and affiliations of every legislator. 5) Repeal legislative immunity. 6) Complete mandatory classes on civics. 7) Pass the same test given to those seeking U.S. citizenship. Right? Warren Kotzmann, Gilbert The Department of Defense has weakened itself and created distrust by scrubbing its websites of DEI (Diversity, Equity and Inclusion) materials, that include information about the Navajo Code Talkers. U.S. Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth has gone too far. Deleting historical facts and eliminating recorded history are actions we see from communist and tyrannical countries. We know the Code Talkers saved thousands of lives and gave the United States an advantage with their selfless actions in WW II. They dealt with prejudice serving in the US military and were begrudged the hero's return they deserved. It is disgusting that DOD is scrubbing its website of the Code Talkers and all the other facts that mention ethnicity or gender under the shady guise of correcting DEI. We, the People, will correct this elimination of history after you are removed from office. In the meantime, I ask all publishing entities to reprint and distribute everything you have on the Code Talkers, Buffalo Soldiers, Woman's Service Air Force pilots and every other group wiped off DOD public platforms so We the People can know who We are. Victoria Caruso Drummond, Phoenix Transgender people are part of our community. Like other Arizonans, they deserve to be healthy and supported. HB 2062 ("sex-based terms") discriminates against our transgender and other gender-diverse neighbors and is harmful to public health. Lawmakers attempting to define "only two genders" will cite historic precedent. However, just as we learned centuries ago that the earth is not flat, we now understand scientifically that gender expression is more nuanced that previously understood. To quote Maya Angelou, '...when you know better, do better.' Family physicians like me see that transgender people have increased risk of suicide, higher rates of mental health diagnoses, and more traumatic life experiences than the general population. Protective factors include family and peer support, legal recognition, and anti-harassment laws. I urge lawmakers to oppose HB 2062 and Governor Hobbs to veto it if necessary. Members of the community need to speak out in support of transgender Arizonans. Full recognition of transgender and gender non-conforming people improves public health and creates a more just society. Steven Brown, M.D., Scottsdale This article originally appeared on Arizona Republic: Don't let sports fat cats take school money | Letters
