A WWII Navajo Code Talker and his Grandfather
fly to Hawaii in the belly of a Giant Bird...
In the early 1980’s I worked in Navajo Country in northeastern Arizona. It was on Black Mesa, perhaps the most remote and isolated part of tribal lands. While most younger Navajo men spoke English, many women my age and older at the time didn’t. Women over 40 or so dressed modestly in traditional long pleated velvet or cotton skirts and velveteen blouses as daily attire.
One of the men I worked with was a friend who was a Marine and a Navajo Code talker in the Pacific during World War II. I’m going to call him Mr. Begay. I’m not going to use his real name because having worked for several tribes over the years I learned that it’s best not to mention the names of the dead because of the risk of catching their attention when they hear their name mentioned.
The name “Begay” is as common on Navajo land as “Smith” is in the rest of the country.
On the Pacific front, code talkers were Native Americans—mostly Navajo—who used a combination of their language and agreed-upon word associations to communicate via radio so the Japanese couldn’t intercept and translate communications. In Europe, members of the Comanche Tribe did the same to confound German and Italian interception of our communications.
One of the examples Mr. Begay shared with me is the Navajo word for “turtle” meant “tank.”
He was just a teenager when he enlisted in the Marines, and when he told his grandfather that he was going to fly to Hawaii in an airplane to be stationed there for the duration of the war, his grandfather expressed disbelief that such a place existed. His grandfather had never been off of Black Mesa, and there was no mention of an island in the ocean in Navajo lore.
Grandfather also didn’t believe that giant machines could fly through the air with people in their bellies. He reasoned that airplanes were simply rare large birds that the Navajo had yet to classify and that when one would eventually land on tribal lands they could figure it out.
No way he said that his grandson was going to fly to a fantastical land in the belly of a giant bird or a machine made by people.
Mr. Begay told his grandfather that when he got back from the war, he would prove him wrong and together they would fly in the belly of the giant bird to beautiful Hawaii.
When the war was over and Mr. Begay returned home, sure enough, he and his grandfather drove to Phoenix, boarded an airplane, and flew to Hawaii where they spent a week or so together.
When they returned and told their family about the trip, they asked Grandfather what was the best part of it.
“The ride in the airplane? Seeing the ocean? The beaches?”
“No,” replied Grandfather.
“What was it then?”
“Well, all of the pretty women on the beach in swimsuits, of course!”
I have many more stories about Mr. Begay and other friends during that time period, but they are best told around a campfire on a chilly starlit night.
Thanks to my friend Rachelle Chase, who listened to me tell this story the other day and enjoyed it. Given how much she liked it, I share it again here.
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I worked in the hospital in Flagstaff, Arizona and had a patient who had been a Navajo code talker in WW II. Unfortunately he had major health issues and was only there about 2 weeks. He was extremely stoic as most Native American patients and my Native American classmates were. I can agree Begay was as common a name to them as Smith is to us. I had great experiences with many patients and classmates of diverse ethnic backgrounds in Flagstaff at NAU and our Phoenix hospital affiliations.
After hours of thinking on your story I thought of my Dad, a WWII Native Vet. I would have read your story. He would have enjoyed it.