Smoke Signals 3
NOVEMBER 15, 2002
Code Talker Roy Hawthorne Tells HowThe Code Developed
Code Talker continued from front page
guage was not to be spoken. There were cer
tain punishments for speaking the language.
The teacher would take you down to the wash
room and wash out your mouth with lye soap.
If you persisted, you'd be confined to a dark base
ment, chained to a water heater."
An irony, he noted, "for those who would soon
be called on to speak (the language) to assist in
the military to overcome an enemy that was over
coming American forces..."
The code talker project was secret enough that
Steve Bobb, designer and driving force of the
Veterans' Memorial project, who served as a ma
rine during Vietnam, "didn't realize that code
talkers were Marines. I didn't know (anything
about them) until the movie came out," he said.
The code talkers were made famous recently
by the Nicolas Cage movie, Windtalkers. Based
on the Navajo language, the codes were never
broken during the war, and are now considered
a vital part of the American victory.
Code talking came about, Hawthorne said,
when the son of a missionary family minister
ing to the Navajos got the idea that the Navajo
language could turn around the war effort. At
the time, the Japanese were quickly and effi
ciently breaking every American code.
The Japanese forces were so good and so cocky
that they would "break into AM radio bands and
say, 'Thank you, we'll be waiting for you,'"
Hawthorne said.
Persisting in the face of rejection, this mission
ary boy finally convinced the military to put to
gether a pilot project of 30 Navajos. They were
"The Japanese did not want to ad
mit that they had met their match,
but this was the only military code
that was never broken."
Roy Hawthorne
Code Talker
recruited, Hawthorne among them, but for what,
they did not know.
"When I heard that they were going to give us
special jobs," Hawthorne said, "I thought they
were going to make us Generals!" They went to
boot camp instead, and then to communications
training.
Development of the code came in two parts.
The first, Hawthorne said, was vocabulary.
Since the Navajo language had no military ter
minology, the project developed Navajo words
for military hardware in the air, on the surface,
and in the sea.
He cited examples for airplanes. "We searched
for a bird with similar characteristics," he said.
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And yet, the project almost came to a halt be
fore it got off the ground "because the officers
couldn't understand it."
"I'm not a Veteran," said Tribal Council mem
ber Valorie Sheker-Robertson, "but he has en
lightened me to the Indian contribution."
Hawthorne also told stories of soldiers break-
For a reconnaissance plane, they looked for a
quiet bird that just took in information. They
settled on the owl. For tanks, he said, they se
lected the Navajo word for turtle. An aircraft
carrier became a bird carrier. A submarine be
came an iron fish. All in the Navajo language,
mind you.
The second part of the project was to give Na
vajo names to every letter of the American al
phabet. For "a," for example, there were three
Navajo code words: "and," which in the Navajo
language is "woolichee;" "apple," which is
"bilasana;" and "axe," which is "fsenix." It is easy
to see why these words, which begin with any
thing but "a" would be hard to decipher. Two
hundred and eleven initial Navajo words repre
senting letters would ultimately be expanded to
600 words by war's end, said Hawthorne.
"The Japanese did not want to admit that they
had met their match," Hawthorne said, "but this
was the only military code that was never bro
ken." "How can you express the feeling of honor?"
said Tribal Council Chairwoman Cheryle
Kennedy. "It's just once in a lifetime that you
can witness someone of your own nation who
made such a great contribution to the world. If
the war had been lost, what would it have been
like?"
At Iwo Jima, Hawthorne said, some 800 mes
sages were delivered without error.
ing down under the pressure of war. "War is a
crime," he said. "It really is."
"This is relevant to what we're facing today,"
said Catholic Bishop Emeritis and Veteran B.
Dak Rissan. "Individuals are going in there and
don't know what they're facing."
At the same time, Hawthorne said, "it opened
up many doors for us, for the Navajo. We came
into contact with different cultures and learned
how to get along together. It also taught us about
setting goals. And education became a goal for
many of us."
"After the war," Hawthorne said, "Navajo Code
Talkers earned degrees in theology and educa
tion. We became educators and ministers and
businessmen."
He also described why he has a special place
in his heart for nurses. He recalled being fer
ried out of a Korean trouble spot (he was in the
infantry here, not a code talker) on a MASH
unit helicopter. "I opened my eyes in a dimly lit
building but I came to realize it was my lights
that were going out. A string of doctors came
by, made little noises like 'hmmm,' and 'hmmm.'
But it was a nurse who came by and held my
hand and said, 'Chief, you're going to make it!'"
Tribal Council member Val Grout summed up
the feelings of many about the evening, when
she said, "I thought it was fanastic."
Eagle Beak drums at the Veterans' Memorial Fundraiser.
The Fundraiser's Other
Headliners
The evening also included other speakers,
dancers and some great drum and voice
work by the Eagle Beak Singers.
Klarice Westley led the invocation. The
Tillicum Dancers, including Indians of many
ages, performed the Grass Dance, tradition
ally done to flatten down the grasses. There
also was a men's Traditional Dance, a But
terfly Dance, a Upai Dance, an Owl Dance,
an Eel Dance and a Laughing Dance.
In the Northwest, said Westley, "an abun
dance of food gave us a lot of time for play
ing games, for fun and for social dances."
Darrell Dean Butler, a Siletz Indian and
Veteran of the American Indian Movement
(AIM), said that something happens in war
to "bring the physical and spiritual together.
It is this fulfillment that makes them the Vets
that come home. I came to the crossroads
when I became a Vet where I no longer hate.
AIM was a spiritual awakening.
"My father always said, 'I didn't go over
there to fight for this government. I went to
fight for my people, my homeland.'"
"As Indian people, we have been put on
reservations and signed many treaties, but
we have never surrendered," said Nick
Sixkiller, a Cherokee, an Education Special
ist in Eugene for the Confederated Tribes of
Siletz Indians, and master of ceremonies for
the evening. H