I thank my colleague from Arizona (Mr. Gosar) for bringing us together tonight as we get a chance to visit and celebrate heroes that are amongst us, whether it's in spirit or body, as we are still so fortunate to have Chester Nez with us,…
I thank my colleague from Arizona (Mr. Gosar) for bringing us together tonight as we get a chance to visit and celebrate heroes that are amongst us, whether it's in spirit or body, as we are still so fortunate to have Chester Nez with us, one of the original 29 as well.
With me tonight I have a few excerpts of articles that have been written around the country that capture some stories recently in the Fronteras Desk. An author by the name of Laurel Morales captured the story of Chester Nez. It starts like this: ``Growing up in New Mexico, Chester Nez and many of his fellow Navajo were punished for speaking their language.''
You talk about a language as they were pulled away to boarding schools, so many of the young Navajo across the country, and the importance of what they were able to accomplish during World War II. In the words of Major Howard Connor of the 5th Marine Division, he declared that were it not for the Navajos, the marines would never have taken Iwo Jima, and the importance of language and what they were able to accomplish.
The article goes on to read that years later, Nez was shocked to learn that he'd been recruited by the marines specifically to devise a code using the same language the government tried to beat out of him. It was extremely ironic. One of the very things they were forbidden to do--speak Navajo--ended up helping us save the war.
Mr. Nez goes on to say that he and his fellow Code Talkers first developed an alphabet, as you described, Mr. Gosar, using everyday Navajo words to represent letters of words, as you talked about-- submarine: iron fish; besh-lo: iron fish; and hummingbird: dah-he-tih- hi to talk about fighter planes. It's amazing how when we talked about the Japanese and how they were so effective at cracking codes, how they couldn't crack this one.
Mr. Nez goes on to say in the article that being one of the last original Code Talkers, he lives in Albuquerque with his son--a father of six children. He has nine grandchildren and eight great- grandchildren. It goes on to say that ``today, with so many people leaving the reservation, Navajo elders like Nez fear their language is dying. Nez hopes Navajo children learn the story of Code Talkers so they understand just how critical it is to learn their own language.''
And thank you for bringing us together, Mr. Gosar, this evening to help celebrate the history of our Code Talkers, as it wasn't until Senator Bingaman moved legislation back in 2000 to be able to give honor to our original 29--a few of them, at the very least, and their families--with gold medals, and silver medals to the others that were also trained to go on.
So I think this is an example of a few stories that we'll be submitting and sharing this evening to be able to celebrate the lives and stories and the history, especially on today as we remember Pearl Harbor and all the sacrifice
and all the families we lost that day and so many brave soldiers as well.
Thanks for bringing this tonight. I look forward to many stories and continuing to share many of the articles that we've been able to find capturing the history and personal stories of our friend, our heroes, the Code Talkers from all throughout New Mexico, Arizona, and Utah.
It would certainly be an honor, Mr. Gosar.
Royal L. Begay.
John Ashi Benally.
Cosey S. Brown.
John Chee.
Eugene R. Crawford.
Lowell S. Damon.
James Dixon.
Oscar B. Ilthma.
Alfred Leonard.
William McCabe.
Jack Nez.
Joe Palmer.
Nelson S. Thompson.
John Willie.
Only to say again, Mr. Gosar, as we celebrate tonight, to never forget about the contributions of the Navajo people to our great Nation, with the work that they've done not only through the Cold War, but going back to all the work that was done.
As we pointed out earlier, in the words of Major Howard Connor, if it were not for the Navajos, the marines never would have taken Iwo Jima. It's a great night to be here to celebrate, and I thank you for bringing us together.
I would like to submit into the Record an article from the Santa Fe New Mexican, dated August 29, 2010, also capturing the story telling and talking about Mr. Chester Nez, as well as the article, ``The Last of the Navajo Code Talkers,'' by Laurel Morales, which was listed in the Fronteras Desk.
[From the SantaFeNewMexican.com, Aug. 29, 2010]
An Original Code Talker Keeps Tale Alive--Few Remaining Members of
Elite Navajo Marine Unit
(By Felicia Fonseca)
Albuquerque.--Tourists hurry inside a shop here to buy
books about the famed Navajo Code Talkers, warriors who used
their native language as their primary weapon.
Outside, on a walk sheltered from the sun, nine of the Code
Talkers sit at a table autographing the books. Each is an old
man now. They wear similar caps and shirts, the scarlet and
gold of the Marine Corps, and turquoise jewelry.
One of these men, who signs his name as Cpl. Chester Nez,
is distinguished from the others. Below his signature, he
jots down why: 1st Original 29.
Before hundreds of Code Talkers were recruited from the
Navajo Nation to join the elite unit, 29 Navajos were
recruited to develop the code--based on the then-unwritten
Navajo language--that would confound Japanese military
cryptologists and help win World War II.
Of the Original 29, only three survive. Nez is one.
The Code Talkers took part in every assault the Marines
conducted in the Pacific, sending thousands of messages
without error on Japanese troop movements, battlefield
tactics and other communications critical to the war's
ultimate outcome.
``It's one of the greatest parts of history that we used
our own native language during World War II,'' Nez said in an
interview with The Associated Press. ``We're very proud of
it.''
Nez tells the story succinctly. He is the last of the
original group able to do so. One can hardly speak or hear,
and the memory of the third is severely tested by Alzheimer's
disease.
The 89-year-old Nez is limited, too. He is in a wheelchair
after diabetes led to the amputation of both legs. These
days, he'd rather ``just sit around, take it easy,'' he said.
As a boy, Nez lived in a traditional Navajo home and helped
his family tend to sheep in Two Wells on the eastern side of
the vast 27,000-square-mile reservation.
He played with toy cars, went barefoot, and spoke only his
native language. That changed when he was sent to one of the
boarding schools set up by the federal government to
assimilate American Indian children into the broader culture.
At boarding school, Nez said he had his mouth washed out
with soap for speaking Navajo--ironic indeed, considering the
vital role that the unique language--and Nez--would come to
play.
Nez was in 10th grade when a Marine recruiter came looking
for young Navajos who were fluent in Navajo and English to
serve in World War II. He jumped at the chance to defend his
country, and to leave boarding school. He kept the decision
to enlist a secret from his family and lied about his age, as
did many others.
``I told my roommate, `Let's try it out,' and that's what
we did,'' Nez said. ``One reason we joined is the uniform--
they were so pretty, dress uniforms.''
About 250 Navajos showed up at Fort Defiance, Ariz., then a
U.S. Army base. But only 29 were selected to join the first
all-Native American unit of Marines. They were inducted in
May 1942.
After basic training, the 382nd Platoon was tasked with
developing the code.
There Nez met Allen Dale June and Lloyd Oliver, among the
others. Using Navajo words for red soil, war chief, clan,
braided hair, beads, ant and hummingbird, for example, they
came up with a glossary of more than 200 terms, later
expanded, and an alphabet.
At first, Nez said, the concern was whether or not the code
could work. Then it proved impenetrable. ``The Japanese did
everything in their power to break the code but they never
did,'' he said.
Nez no longer remembers the code in its entirety, but
easily switches from English to Navajo to repeat one
instruction he delivered during fighting on Guadalcanal.
``I always remember this one,'' Nez said. ``Enemy machine
gun on your right flank, destroy!''
The Navajos trained in radio communications were walking
copies of the code. Each message read aloud by a Code Talker
was immediately destroyed.
``When you're involved in the world of cryptology, you not
only have to provide information, you have to protect that,''
said Patrick Weadon, curator of the National Cryptologic
Museum. ``And there's no better example than the Navajo Code
Talkers during World War II.''
The Code Talkers were constantly on the move, often from
foxhole to foxhole. Nez had a close call in Guam with a
sniper's bullet that whizzed past his head and struck a palm
tree.
Once while running a message, Nez and his partner were
mistaken for Japanese soldiers
and were threatened at gunpoint until a Marine lieutenant
cleared up the confusion, his son, Michael, said.
``Of course Dad couldn't tell them he was a Code Talker,''
Nez's son said.
The Code Talkers had orders not to discuss their roles--not
during the war and not until their mission was declassified
23 years later.
In 2001 Nez, Dale and June traveled aboard the same plane
to Washington, D.C., to receive the Congressional Gold Medal.
The recognition, which they didn't receive when they returned
home from war, propelled them to a sort of celebrity status,
along with the release of a movie based on the Code Talkers
the following year
They appeared on television, rode on floats in parades and
were asked to speak to veterans groups and students.
Nez threw the opening pitch at a 2004 Major League Baseball
game and blessed the presidential campaign of John Kerry.
Oliver traveled with other Code Talkers as guests of honor in
the nation's largest Veterans Day parade in New York last
year.
When residents of Longmont, Colo., heard that June and his
wife did not have a permanent home, they raised money to buy
one for the couple.
The last three survivors of the Original 29 don't live on
the Navajo Nation, where they are celebrated with a tribal
holiday. They wonder about each other, but it's unlikely
they'll reunite again.
After World War II, Nez volunteered to serve two more years
during the Korean War and retired in 1974 after a 25-year
career as a painter at the veterans hospital in Albuquerque.
June, 88, has spent the past few weeks in and out of
hospitals in Wyoming and Arizona, and requires round-the-
clock care. His third wife, Virginia, calls herself ``the
charm'' and the protector of an endangered species.
She's a walking promotion for him and the Marine Corps, yet
she's careful of how much she says because he thinks it is
unwelcome bragging.
Oliver's wife, Lucille, echoes similar sentiments about her
husband. Oliver displayed few reminders in what, until
earlier this year, was his home on the Yavapai Indian
reservation in Camp Verde, Ariz.--a few framed pictures, a
Marine cap above his bedroom window and a U.S. flag above the
doorway.
``He just put the past behind him, I guess,'' she says.
Oliver, 87, speaks audibly but his words are difficult to
understand. His hearing is impaired and he prefers not to
have a hearing aid.
Both June and Oliver had brothers who later served as Code
Talkers.
Nez tells the tourists seeking autographs in Albuquerque
that he's part of the Original 29, but few appear to grasp
what that means.
``Most of them,'' he says of the tourists, ``they just
thank me for what we did.''