MORMON CODE TALKERS

Navajo Code Talkers. US Army. World War II.

        During World War II the Armed Forces used Navajo speaking soldiers to communicate secret messages. They were called “Code Talkers.” These soldiers spoke their native language and the enemy never cracked their code. Not being a written language made interpreting Navajo a very difficult task. Because of their unique service to the Military, these men were honored with medals recognizing their vital contributions to the war effort. Today, those attempting to learn Navajo study words and phrases written out phonetically.

       At the time I was called on my mission there was no Language Training Center for missionaries learning Navajo. The Southwest Indian Mission created its own Navajo school for their Elders and Sisters. Once a month senior companions would team up for a week and send their “greenies” (new missionaries) off to Navajo School. With comfy sleeping bags in tow, we would meet at different chapels scattered about the reservation, and study vocabulary and memorize five or six critical gospel lessons: Christ’s Atonement, The Apostasy and Restoration, The Plan of Salvation, Baptism, and so forth.

Graduation Certificate from Navajo School. South West Indian Mission. 1965.

      After six separate weekly trainings we received a graduation certificate and were booted out the door. Good luck! This new batch of "Mormon Code Talkers" were about to be released upon the unsuspecting Navajo people.We weren't trying to speak in code or send secret messages, but in our attempts at speaking Navajo it might have come across that way. Without Divine help, understanding our message would have been difficult at best!

Elders in the South West Indian Mission teaching the Gospel in Navajo.

        In a way Navajo School was akin to isolated mountain men coming out of the wilds for a long awaited rendezvous. After working hard in the scattered corners of the reservation it was great to get together, study hard, learn Navajo, share experiences, laugh, play ball, and enjoy each others’ company. There were Elders and Sisters from all over North and South America. I was surprised at how many Polynesians had traveled from their tropical island homes to serve missions on the desolate Navajo Reservation. My old high school buddy, Bruce Cameron, turned out to be an “ace” instructor at the school.

        One of the most colorful new elders I met was Elder Mike Stanley. He had recently joined the LDS faith while attending the Church College of Hawaii. Mike was an extrovert in every sense of the word. When I first met him, he was wearing a blue blazer with a fraternity patch, tan pants, and a very loud tie. He stood out in sharp contrast from the sea of black suited, white shirted, conservatively dressed, Bible toting missionaries. You could always tell where he was by his loud, infectious laugh.

Elder Michael Stanley in front of the Elders' trailer in Crownpoint, New Mexico. 1965.

       One afternoon, while on a break from class, he challenged all takers to a footrace. To make things interesting he offered ten dollars to anyone who could beat him. Inspired by Elder Stanley's  challenge, some of the Elders were soon digging out their wallets and placing bets – a rare activity among missionaries. My money was on the big guy! He was obviously athletic, and had played water polo for his college in Hawaii. Well. Surprise, surprise! Elder Stanley won every race, and both of our wallets got a little fatter.

        It turned out that Elder Stanley’s racing challenge inspired others to lay down challenges in their areas of expertise. One night a Tongan Elder, with muscles on top of muscles, challenged anyone brave enough to take him on in a wrestling contest. It was easy to see that he was a great fighter. Any kind of fight would have pushed his buttons. It was about this time that my soft sleeping bag and I found a quiet, isolated closet and laid down to catch some well deserved “zzzzzz’s.” Meanwhile, after watching the Tongan destroy some well put together Elders, Elder Stanley began working his mischief. “So you think you’re a tough guy?” he taunted The Hulk. “What?” snorted the Tongan. “You may think you’re tough,” smirked Elder Stanley, “but Elder Rogers said he wouldn’t waste his time with a wimp like you!” You could almost hear the steam whistle out The Hulk’s ears as his face turned three shades of red, and his muscles began flexing wildly. “Where is this Rogers dude? I’ll teach him to mock me!” he roared.

Tongan missionary in traditional dress.

        Have you ever been awakened from a sound sleep, jerked out of your sleeping bag, and spun like a top before landing on the ground with a two hundred pound fighting machine tying you in knots? “So you think I’m a wimp?” the Hulk grunted. “What? Where did you get that idea?” I moaned. From on my back, under this muscle bound giant, I spotted Elder Stanley enjoying the blood sport and yucking it up.     
        

        You would think that a shenanigan like that would have made me steer clear of a guy like Elder Stanley, but deep down I admired his prankster skills. It wasn’t long before we became good friends. You might even say “kindred spirits.” We were total opposites. He was tall and loud, and I was short and reserved. But inside we both found humor in the ironies of life, especially life on the Res! It was inevitable that our paths would cross again as we got deeper into our mission experiences. In fact, we discovered we were both in the same Southwest Indian Mission district in New Mexico with Bruce Cameron as our District Leader.

Reservation Chapel. South West Indian Mission, New Mexico.

        Each time we got together for Navajo School, we had a great time. But I was always amazed that so many nineteen- and twenty-year-old young men and women with such different personalities, interests, and backgrounds, could unite in a common cause and totally dedicate their lives in selfless service. Can you imagine? There were less than 200 of us on the Navajo reservation, but there were tens of thousands of us all over the world. We weren't perfect by any means, but each one was doing his or her best to live worthy of representing Jesus Christ, and helping to change lives for the better.