Chester Nez Shares his story

Code talker Chester Nez and his grandson.

At 92 Chester Nez has experienced more than most in today’s society can begin to imagine, everything from prejudice because of his cultural and ethnic origins, to his time as a soldier on the front lines for months on end without relief.

He sat proudly in his wheelchair at a recent book signing for his memoir Code Talker, written in collaboration with Judith Avila, surrounded by family and admirers. He spoke about his war experiences, and the honor he feels even today for serving in a unique capacity as a warrior with a rifle and a warrior with words – Navajo words.

Growing up in the Checkerboard of the Navajo reservation was not easy, but for young Chester it was a life of beauty structured around work and the joy of family. Spirituality was part and parcel of each day, an ingrained appreciation of the layers of life and nature and how they come together within each person.

When he went to boarding school he was faced with something totally outside his experience. It was rarely fun or joyful. His memoir reveals that Chester used his cultural spirituality to rise above often-cruel circumstances that were demeaning and mean-spirited. Walk in beauty, he often reminded himself, whether he was being threatened by matrons at school, or later when facing the formidable attacks of Japanese soldiers on the various islands where his native language became the secret code that very likely shortened the war and saved many lives.

At an event in Las Vegas, N.M., at the Plaza Hotel, Chester responded to questions from the audience about his war experience. Avila, his memoirist set the stage. “Imagine yourself in a different life,” Avila said. “Imagine yourself as a young boy being sent off to boarding school, away from your family, away from everything you know. Imagine yourself going to war.”

Chester was part of a Marine recruitment targeted toward young Navajo men who were fluent in English and Navajo. He didn’t know that at the time, he only knew his country was in jeopardy and as a warrior it was his duty to serve. It wasn’t long before he learned he and 29 other young Native Americans were being asked to develop a code that would baffle the enemy and turn the tide of war in favor of American forces.

And they had 13 weeks to get it done.

The code talkers, down to 29 by the time they entered into the conflict, were at the front lines from day one. While others were getting R&R to recover from shell shock following extended time in the trenches, the code talkers were put back into play on another island, never getting the relief made available to other soldiers.

“What we were doing was necessary,” Chester said. “We had a job to do and we did it.”

He says he does not consider himself a hero. “We were needed and we served.” His unassuming manner hides the soul of a warrior. It is the Navajo way to be respectful and not show off or be prideful. In the case of the code talkers that was easy since their efforts were cloaked in secrecy until 1968. The men continued to go unrecognized until 2000 when Congress authorized the Congressional Gold Medal be struck in their honor. In July 2001, in the Capitol Rotunda, the presentation was made to the original 29 (many of them posthumously), thanks to Senator Jeff Bingaman of New Mexico and Senator Daniel Inuye of Hawaii who sponsored the bill. Code talkers who were trained after the initial 29 (about 400) were recognized with the Congressional Silver Medal several months later.

The original 29 left their homes and their families without notifying anyone where they were going, or what they would be doing, partly because they didn’t know and partly because communication on the reservation was limited. Before they shipped out they wrote home about their military service, but nothing about what they would be doing. That secret would remain with them for decades. Some of them took it to their graves unable to survive after returning home and finding they were still regarded as second class citizens after serving with honor and being respected by their Marine peers. As long as they were soldiers, they had value. When they came home life went on, but they had changed. Worse yet, they couldn’t tell their families so they could be honored among those closest to them.

Chester says this broke many of the men. They turned to drinking or just gave up. Post traumatic stress disorder took its toll. Called shell shock at the time, the symptoms were treated for a few months after the soldiers returned home, but the men lived with the after effects for the rest of their lives.

Chester was fortunate in that his father was a man who understood that spirits of the dead Japanese were haunting his son. Treatment by a medicine man was ordered. The dreams abated after the healing ceremony, but returned later in life.

During Chester’s talk a member of the audience stood and said she worked for the V.A., which now recognizes the healing way ceremonies and the work of medicine men as valuable treatments for Native Americans returning from war zones. The audience applauded loudly and looked to Chester, who nodded gravely. His hearing is poor and most of the communication with Chester during the event was through Avila or his grandson Latham, but he seemed to understand how important this is, that Native American culture and tradition is being respected.

Someone in the audience asked how Chester felt about having the sacred Navajo language used as an instrument of war.

“It was not wrong to use it as a code,” he said. “In the long run we used it to defeat the enemy. It was the best thing we ever did.”

Chester credits his spiritual and cultural background with keeping him steady and focused during wartime, but he also credits the Marines with shaping his life after the war.

“I learned a lot in the service. I respected the traditions. I was treated with respect, and what I went through, they supported and helped me. I am so proud to have served. I am so proud of what we did.”

Back home he faced a rude awakening. When he registered at a federal office in Gallup in 1945, the functionary handling his paperwork took pains to remind him that even though he was wearing a uniform he was still the same, reminding him he wasn’t a “real citizen,” and that he couldn’t even vote, which at the time was true. It wasn’t until 1962 that New Mexico became the last state to approve voting rights for Native Americans.

Chester intermingles his feelings about going off to boarding school and going off to war, perhaps because the comparisons are so radically different. When he went to boarding school there was no respect for his language or his culture. In the Marines he was quickly accepted and received high praise for his work and dedication. His language became a vital factor in the war effort. The military newspaper Chevron couldn’t say enough good things about the Navajo recruits, their strength, endurance, performance and dedication. Nothing was said about their secret mission, but as with all Marines, they had to live up to the physical and rigorous training standards. They out did themselves and continued to be a source of pride for the Marines. Chester said he and the other Navajo men were a little uncomfortable with the recognition but warmed by the respect and acceptance.

His treatment by matrons and other staff at boarding school was anything but respectful. “They would take us so far (going home) and drop us off. We would walk sometimes 15 miles or so to get home. They treated us terrible, terrible. They hit us, kicked us, and picked on the smallest ones who couldn’t fight back.” The value of his education was something that would stay with him. The memories of cruel treatment remain as a reminder of the high cost.

The only time he felt uncomfortable during his military service was when Army personnel stopped him and Francis (another code talker) and accused them of being Japanese. “I speak perfect English,” Chester argued. “How can you think I’m a Japanese?” The soldier was sure the two dark-skinned code talkers had killed American soldiers and stolen their uniforms.

The soldiers marched the code talkers back to camp and presented them for investigation, only to find they were the ones in deep trouble. Chester smiles at the memory, but makes no comment.

If anything distresses him it is that no one seems to care about something that made such a critical difference during wartime. “You try to explain what you went through and they just kick it aside,” he said.

It is interesting to note that the night before Chester’s appearance before more than 200 people in Las Vegas, he had spent six hours in the V.A. hospital receiving a blood transfusion. When it was suggested that perhaps he should postpone his speaking engagement, he was adamant that he meet his obligation. This remarkable veteran can be assured people do want to hear his story. Everyone in the packed room listened intently and many waited more than two hours to buy his memoir. He signed every book and patiently waited while countless people posed with him for a photo. He is the living embodiment of a Navajo who walks in beauty.

Chester Nez’ visit to Las Vegas was coordinated by Joseph and Loretta Baca of KFUN-KLVF Radio and supported by the Native American Club at Highlands and the Highlands Foundation.