97 pages • 3 hours read
Joseph BruchacA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more. For select classroom titles, we also provide Teaching Guides with discussion and quiz questions to prompt student engagement.
“I kept waving even after we went around the sagebrush-covered hill and I could no longer see them waving back at me, my father with his back straight and his hand held high, my mother with one hand pressed to her lips while the other floated as gracefully as a butterfly. I did not know it, but it would be quite some time before I saw my home again.”
As six-year-old Ned Begay, then still known by his Navajo name Kii Yázhí, leaves home at the outset of the book, he faces many unknowns. He leaves behind his parents, his grandparents, and all he’s familiar with. In this quote we are reminded of how young and anxious he is when he goes to boarding school.
“It was no good to speak Navajo or be Navajo. Everything about us that was Indian had to be forgotten.”
Ned and the other Navajo children who arrive at the mission school are instructed in no uncertain terms to abandon their Navajo ways and their language, in favor of assimilating into white culture. The culture they love is denigrated, and the punishment for lapsing back into their old ways—even as a means of seeking comfort—is harsh.
“Some students in that school, especially after being beaten enough times for talking Indian, reached the point where it became hard for them to speak Navajo, even when they wanted to. But it was not that way for me.”
Ned clings to his native language, even though administrators at the mission school inflict beatings on children who speak Navajo. Consequently, Ned resorts to speaking Navajo in secret. This defiance reflects how important Navajo is to him and provides some foreshadowing for how he will use his language skills in the future, having maintained his Navajo fluency long after he was supposed to abandon it.
“Even though my body would not grow tall, somehow I knew there was no limit to the growth of my mind.”
Ned is aware early on that at only a little over five feet tall, he will never excel at athletics the way some of his peers will. Knowing this, he turns to pursuits of the mind and does well in school, so much so that some of his teachers at the boarding school are taken aback. Later, these abilities will allow him entrance into the US military.
“It didn’t matter that I could now speak English as well as any bilagaanaa. It didn’t matter how good my grades had been in all my classes. By speaking one word in our sacred language I had just proved to my teacher that I was as hopeless as the rest of my people.”
Ned expresses the sense of futility that occasionally arises in him, especially in situations where the Navajo language is devalued and prospects for hard-working Navajo soldiers and citizens are curtailed, compared to non-Indigenous counterparts.
“Wolachii, which means ‘ant.’ I took that as a joking compliment, as everyone knows that ants are powerful, despite their tiny size.”
Ned refers (as he often does) to his small stature and how it doesn’t reflect his abilities to succeed in other arenas. His small size can be seen as symbolizing the Navajo people as a whole—who, though they have been marginalized and oppressed by society, provide valuable assistance to their white oppressors during the war.
“There was truly blessing all around me and all through me. With that new dawn, with my mind and my body, my spirit and my emotions in good balance, I was ready to begin my journey as a warrior for America.”
Ned describes the process of chants and rituals associated with the Blessingway. By the end of the long ceremony, he feels prepared for the war ahead. This quote exemplifies how deeply Navajo customs are felt in his life and how they provide him comfort and calm in the face of unknown outcomes.
“What you did in boot camp did not have to make sense. You just had to do it.”
Ned conveys a feeling perhaps not just about boot camp but about many of the routines and norms to which he and other Navajo soldiers were subjected, and how many of these practices and drills seemed arbitrary. This arbitrariness may be seen as especially true as it relates to longstanding notions of race and feelings of white cultural superiority.
“Being Indians, we were used to having white men shout at us and tell us we were worthless and stupid.”
The harsh language and treatment in boot camp are not as jarring for the Navajo recruits as it is for many of the non-Indigenous soldiers. Ned and the other code talkers have been repeatedly debased and derided in their lives, and at a very foundational level, for simply being who they are. The abuse they face as new Marines feels like par for the course.
“We Navajo Marines were tough and determined, perhaps even more so than most of the non-Indian Marines who later served by our sides. Why was this so? It may have been because we remembered the suffering and courage of our grandfathers who fought as warriors to protect our land and our people. We were not just fighting for the United States. We were going into battle for our Navajo people, our families, and our sacred land.”
The concept of patriotism is complicated for the Navajo soldiers, who pledge loyalty to the American war effort while also honoring their Navajo tribe and heritage. Ned suggests that though the Navajo are part of the US forces, they are fighting specifically to protect their home, Dinetah, as well as the larger United States.
“John Benally’s warning did not frighten me. It made me proud that our sacred language was so important to America. It felt good to know that we were the only ones who could do this useful thing.”
Though Navajo soldiers distinguish themselves in many instances throughout the book, on many occasions the code talkers provide valuable intelligence to commanders in the US military in a way and at a rate that no other method can achieve. Their expertise is unique and indispensable to the war effort.
“We were supposed to speak our sacred language here. It felt so good to do this that sometimes it made me want to shout with happiness.”
In training at Camp Elliott, Ned is encouraged to speak Navajo for the first time since he was a child. After spending many of his formative years at the mission school, where he was punished when he didn’t speak English, the mandate to hone his Navajo comes as a huge relief. We see throughout the book how speaking his native language is a comfort and a joy to Ned.
“In fact, most of us never even got to wear one of those dress blue uniforms like that first one I saw on the Marine Corps recruitment poster. We were kept invisible. It was partially because our true duty [as code talkers] was kept such a secret from so many. But I think it was also because we were Indians in what was still, even in the Marines, a white man’s world. It was easy to forget Indians.”
Though many Navajo youth are enticed to join the war when they see the elegant dress blues worn by Marine Corps recruiters, they remain separate but equal once enlisted in the armed forces. Ned has close and amiable relationships with many white soldiers in the book, but as a demographic, Navajo soldiers remained other, regardless of whether they wore the same uniform as their white comrades.
“‘They were pathetic,’ Bill McCabe said. ‘Small men who looked lost and sad. Not monsters at all.’ ‘When we saw them,’ Sam added, ‘we realized that our enemies were just human beings.’”
Two code talkers, Sam and Bill, discuss the experience of laying eyes on the few Japanese prisoners who were taken after the fighting at Guadalcanal. The observation that the captive men were poor laborers and not faceless or monsters at all humanizes the Japanese.
“He understood that the land of my own heart was there, far across the wide ocean. He placed his left hand on my chest and I did the same. We stood there like that for a while feeling each other’s hearts beat with love for our sacred homelands.”
Ned shares a moment with Gene, an indigenous Solomon Islander who has been suffering under the Japanese occupation of his homeland. The two men understand that they share a feeling of longing for their homelands, even when one of them (Gene) remains physically in that space.
“As I drifted off to a fitful, exhausted sleep late that night, I thought about what was the strangest thing of all that first day of combat. All that fighting had happened without seeing even one Japanese soldier.”
Ned’s perspective on combat and the war in general often takes a humanistic turn. Even after a scene of harrowing fighting and unexpected obstacles while attempting to take the beach at Bougainville, he is preoccupied with his enemy’s humanity and curious about the circumstances of their lives.
“I was surprised at how young and peaceful he looked and how small he was. I realized, with a shock, that his face was a lot like that of one of my cousins back home.”
Ned is looking upon the body of a dead Japanese soldier. Where others in the platoon may see just an enemy, Ned sees humanity in the corpse, and even a likeness to someone from his own family. This goes against the notion that soldiers only view the enemy as just that, and without sympathy or empathy.
“‘There was no way,’ Wilfred said, ‘to celebrate after that victory.’”
Wilfred Bailey is one of the code talkers who is sent to Saipan, where he witnesses countless civilian deaths during the bloody fighting there. Here he argues that even though US forces eventually prevailed in the battle, the experience can hardly be considered positive, considering the heavy human cost.
“What happened to those Chamorros and the people on the other islands made me think yet again of what had been done to our Navajo people during the time of the Long Walk. I wanted to weep for them. It was just as bad for the Chamorros as it had been for us Indians.”
This is an example of how Ned and the other code talkers relate to the occupied indigenous peoples they encounter, and how the history of their own oppression makes the suffering of others more apparent to them.
“Our ancestors saw what war does to human beings. When we must fight other humans, injure and kill them, we also injure a part of ourselves. Our spirits become sick from contact with the enemy.”
After sustaining a gunshot wound, Ned is sent to recuperate in Hawaii, where he sees other soldiers, some of whom are dealing with an invisible illness he calls “battle fatigue,” which is now called post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). He notes that while some were skeptical of the actual suffering these scarred soldiers experienced, it was well understood within Navajo culture that war is damaging to all who participate and the consequences are lasting.
“The looming shape of Suribachi made the hair stand up on the back of my neck.”
As Ned and the other soldiers around him see Iwo Jima for the first time, there’s a sense of foreboding about the battle that will take place there. The towering figure of the mountain symbolizes the daunting work ahead of the soldiers as they prepare to attack the island.
“Speaking. Speaking through that day and the next and the next. Even when our voices grew hoarse, we did not stop. Our Navajo nets kept everything connected like a spider’s strands spanning distant branches. The winds of battle never broke our web. As the battle for Iwo Jima raged all around us, our voices held it together.”
Ned here takes comfort in the consistent, competent work of code talkers in the heat of battle, and how they prove themselves to be an irreplaceable asset to the military. This also reflects how the sound of the Navajo language itself is a balm to Ned—not only in this moment at Iwo Jima but throughout his life.
“Those sheds looked to Paul and Rex just like the lean-tos made back home by our own Navajo people. Many of those Japanese survivors looked so Indian that they might have been Navajos. They said it was hard to look at those people and think of them as our enemies.”
When code talkers Paul and Rex are sent to Japan at the conclusion of the war, they witness the devastation caused by the atomic bombs. Once again, Navajo soldiers are able to relate to the plight of others, seeing themselves not only in the faces of their supposed enemy but also in the squalid conditions they’re forced to live in. They are reminded of their own history of suffering, which was also caused by white people.
“In the eyes of those prejudiced bilagaanaas in that bar, I was just another stupid Navajo.”
When Ned returns home after having served as a code talker in World War Two, he is subjected to the same racism he endured before enlisting instead of gratitude for his service. This moment in the bar is eye-opening for him, a reminder that regardless of the non-Indigenous friends he made or the value of his code-talking expertise, he will continue to face discrimination and ugliness at home.
“Let our language keep you strong and you will never forget what it is to be Navajo. You will never forget what it means to walk in beauty.”
These last lines of the book are an exhortation to the “grandchildren” to whom the narrative is directed. The passage reveals how intricately Navajo language is bound with Navajo culture, and how Ned perceives that furthering knowledge of the language and keeping it alive will keep the culture alive as well.
By Joseph Bruchac