This is humanities for sophomore year. So please take a look!
pOetry project
growth as a poEt ReflectioNKody "Kodii" John
5-23-2015 Growth as a Poet reflection When looking back at the final draft of my poem and then at previous drafts, the sophistication is without a question different. While the perspective of the poem, which is what it's like to be in the shoes of someone used by others remains the same, the complexity from first draft to final draft truly changed. Not that it lengthened, but to say that several lines evolved and the addition of several metaphors. An example of evolution in the poem was the line "Like a useless withered toy," which was the final version of the original line "Just Like a Toy." This line changed on the terms that it didn't entirely convey what I had initially wanted it to, so thanks to several rounds of critique, it finally evolved into a metaphor which was "Like a useless withered toy." The first most important change I feel that I made was changing the previous draft's line from "Like a mother fucking toy," to "Like a useless withered toy." The story on why it had been changed varies to about two reasons. The first reason that gave way to it changing was audience, yet it was mostly critique. But when looking back, how would it affect a younger audience member to hear the "F" bomb dropped in a school setting. The other primary reason was rather personal. It really didn't seem like me to use such profanity in my writing or work to begin with. But in the end, the useless withered metaphor proved not only superior but also showed how far my creativity I. Words could go. Overall, I believe that this change impacted the emotional message of the poem by placing the image of a deteriorating toy in the place of a person without use. Another really important change that was made in the poem was the second stanza, which in the final draft was, "I’ve saved your skin went and did all these things for you, afterwards I’m dull to you threw me to the side," which originally was, "I save your skin I do THINGS for you Then you get bored Then you throw me aside." The reason this change improved the overall outcome of my poem was because the original version of the stanza was really dull and seemed a little too basic. But, I was also timing the rhythm of the poem with the speed of the music I was using. Not only did the final outcome of the second stanza spice things up, but it also attempted to place a feeling into the audience and potentially apart something where they could relate. Finally, the last change that I feel improved the final outcome of the Poe,caws the addition of the final stanza in the final poem which was, "But it just so happens you’re lie using me to get yourself on your feet using me as an edge. Exactly like a god damn toy! Then you're sorry once I'm broke But let me show you what it's like Having zero strings attached You sorry little brat!" In the original draft, it practically refuses to go that far in depth with the perspective of being used. The reason this addition helped to improve the final poem was that it's purpose was to go deeper in depth on the message of being used but to then say "let me show you that you can no longer control me, I'm not yours to play with, and I never was." Which in the long run was intended to show the message to the audience that we make our own paths and we have our will to do what we believe and no one should dictate those paths ever. |
ExhibItion videofinal Poem“Like a Toy”
By Kodii J. I don’t get it I’m Alive Just like you No strings attached But Please Let me ask you this Are you using ME? Are we really friends? I’ve saved your skin went and did all these things for you, afterwards I’m dull to you threw me to the side, LIKE A USELESS WITHERED TOY ! I think I HATE you, but we’re friends Are we not?! Maybe not? What a lie! You sorry wretch! You’re a CHILD Playing with your favorite TOY ME Sittin' there In your yard ‘til you've had your fun And off you go Is this just a game to YOU Other than reality Who the hell do you think you are Playing with my FRAGILE mind All those times that I was there Laying by your side Not a single care in sight What’s with you and all these things That you made me do for you All the twists and all the turns and then the pointless sex! Was I made in a factory? Am I Plastic, Not at all, I've got tissue just like you Then a heart your tore apart What the hell do you think I am? I'm no marionette at all! But it just so happens you’re a lie using me to get yourself on your feet using me as an edge. Exactly like a god damn toy! Then you're sorry once I'm broke But let me show you what it's like Having zero strings attached You sorry little brat! |
Globalization
ReflectionFor this project, we had to undergo the process of developing an Op Ed and a political cartoon on an issue of our choosing; however the issue of our choosing would have to tie into globalization as well. At the beginning of this project, we had to choose an issue that had an interest to us. The issue I had chosen was the effect Americanization has on indigenous cultures. From here, we had two rounds of notes our for Op Ed. The first round involved taking brief notes from sites such as wikipedia. As soon as we completed this round of notes for our issue, we had to develop a question that would help direct the standpoint our Op Ed would take. We then moved on to the second round of notes which involved finding between five to eight sources that were not wikipedia, which helped provide evidence for our Op Ed. As soon as we had collected all our notes and sources, we had to then develop a thesis statement for our paper. Then the actual writing of the Op Eds finally began. There were two initial drafts which both consisted of revisions which then gave us the final draft. While writing our Op Eds, we were simultaneously drafting our Political cartoons which would make a certain standpoint in order to illustrate our issue. Similar to the Op Eds, there were two drafts which had to undergo revisions which emerged as the final product.
After completing this project, I have begun to see globalization more clearly. Globalization is not something that happens on just a small scale, it is something that happens globally. As well as that it has both positive and negative effects on certain people. Yes it may connect people, but it can also detach them from things they hold dear such as cultures or religious beliefs. A major takeaway from this was the fact that globalization can be negative on you unless you let it have an effect on you that is negative. But if you balance both globalization and what makes you "you," then the tools of globalization can potentially benefit you. As a cartoonist, I have clearly grown. When I look back to the initial draft I had created and at the final cartoon, I can see a major difference. Changes in the hairstyle, to the expression of the eyes, and the changes of the background on the right side of the cartoon. In the final product, I had used much more symbolism with more symbols in the final draft than there were in the original draft. The writing I had done for my Op Ed was very different from other writing I have done in the past. Short, concise, and to the point. Most writing I have done in the past have been rather long. Some have broken at least four pages at most, maybe five. However, this type of writing had realistically only took up about two pages. One thing I had learned from this writing was to be concise about something when I wanted to be. In future assignments within or out of humanities, I could use this type of writing to tell something in a clean concise way, without rambling or taking up too much paper or time. 1960's Project1960's Art piece "struggle Of the 60's"For my project I put together a performance and in the arist statement to the right you will see what it is about and why I chose to put a dance together.
Below is a video of a short synopsis of my performance, the full ten minute performance will be uploaded eventually. photos |
Political CArtoonMy Op edKody “Kodii” John
At'a' iina' azee' Frybread or Sara Lee? “It's everything I always talk to you about. Culture transformation of Native Americans. Meaning turn the native person into a white person.” (Farrell John, 2015) What does that mean to me? I am a Native American, a Navajo to be specific and actually it means a lot, given that I know that my culture is slowly disappearing along with other native cultures within every minute of every single day. The thing that is happening to all of these cultures is that they are being Americanized into “American” culture which is also an equivalent to assimilation. In a short sense, Americanization is the act of assimilating a certain idea or concept that isn’t “American enough,” and taking it so it can be molded into the “American” culture. Americanization is destroying Native American cultures. Now what would you choose? Frybread or Sara Lee bread? It’s most likely that you’d choose Sara Lee over Frybread due to the fact you have been Americanized to indulge something that is so dull, boring and tasteless. What I mean by frybread is the Native American cultures and or languages that are slowly fading; as when I said Sara Lee bread, I meant in the “American life” or the “American Dream” which is something that you could probably define on your own. The act of Americanization began a long time ago, and the results aren’t so pretty. This issue itself goes back to “A Long Time Ago in a country not so far away…” well actually you are in it right now! Look back to at least as early as the 1600’s and the 1900’s. A lot has happened, such as a massive genocide of Native American tribes, then the assimilation of the Native Americans into White culture as said by Richard Pratt (Clark, Assimilation Era, 2006) “the end to be gained... is the complete civilization of the Indian and his absorption into our national life… The Indian [is] to lose his identity as such… The sooner all tribal relations are broken up; the sooner the Indian loses all his Indian ways, even his language, the better it will be for him and the [U. S.] government… they are permitted to become like whites.” Over the years, Natives became assimilated into the White or American culture, and after several generations; it has started to really effect the Native youth today. Not many people would want to hear this but this is the truth I had found, and the truth I had been told as a developing teenager. Americanization throughout the decades has made Native Americans dress, talk, and act like a “normal white man.” But no matter how hard you or anyone else may try to run from it; it will remain true. If you look at today’s world, much has changed. Many Native Americans, teenagers to be specific have began to lose the connection they once had with their culture and language. As said by Farrell John, my father in an interview, “Native boys and girls are just so busy wrapped and caught up around TV, Internet, and social media; that they miss out on family time, learning and preserving traditions, culture, language and ceremonies.” This is what is happening today and it is only getting worse. Native American teenagers are starting to become more and more dependent on technology such as the iPhone, or the Xbox, a PC or a Mac, and within those comes media sources such as Facebook, Youtube, Xbox Live, iMessage, or the ability to send an amount of texts as big as a stack of frybread! All of these media outlets are part of something much bigger. They make every person within the world connected, which is a prime result of globalization. The Native American youth is losing that strong connection with their heritage, which in the interview with my father, “They forget and lose everything about who they are and lose connection with their Native American heritage including themselves as an individual when all they do is focus only on their friends, TV, social networks and media.” You see? Many teenage Native boys and girls are just starting to throw their heritage to the side just so they’re able to spend time with “wannabe” white friends or to be sucked into the world of Facebook or Youtube by staring down the interfaces of their technological devices. Now all of this has been happening to me simultaneously. Yes I am a victim of Americanization; but I am doing my part to preserve the Navajo language along with attending anything that may connect to my heritage. Even If I can only say simple words such as Ya’di’laah! or Yah’ah’teeh. Every little word or action can make all the difference. Such an effort to preserve Native cultures is Diné College, a community college located in Tsaile, Arizona. Diné wants to encourage Navajo youth to become contributing members to the Navajo Nation and to the world. The Navajo are not the only ones making an effort to preserve their cultures. The Ute tribe may be funded by the federal government due to their natural resources. When looking at the Utes, you should look at Ignacio, Colorado due to the Ute Mountain Casino which is very “American.” This has a negative effect on their language, which is also fading. But like the Navajo, they are making an effort to keep a grasp on their language. This effort is similar to workshops in which they will go about speaking and learning their language. In reality, I am not the only Navajo or Native who is making an effort to preserve the language and culture. There are others out there, such as a Youtube channel called Funny Nativevines. Anything, to saying a word, or attending a sweatlodge is really a big deal! Not only is one speaking, but they are keeping something beautiful alive! This is why the cultural transformation of the Native American is an important issue to me, as it should be to you. Word Count: 999 Works Cited Anderson, William. "Cultural Impacts: Native Americans in America and Europeans Among the Cherokee." Cultural Impacts: Native Americans in America and Europeans Among the Cherokee. N.p., n.d. Web. 05 Feb. 2015. http://nchumanities.org/programs/road-scholars/cultural-impacts-native-americans-america-and-europeans-among-cherokee Clark, Dr. C Blue. "ASSIMILATION ERA." ASSIMILATION ERA. N.p., n.d. Web. 05 Feb. 2015. http://digital.library.okstate.edu/Oakerhater/essay.html Funny NativeVines YouTube Channel https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC2t4DsCe9V-sEJzsXfTjAFw?spfreload=10 John, Farrell. "The Assimilation of Native Americans." Telephone interview. 5 Feb. 2015. https://docs.google.com/a/animashighschool.com/document/d/1KD6oCUcA7_Y2jMvks_rBnin7y3F0VfduOJlmi0RBGN4/edit "Life on the Reservations." Ushistory.org. Independence Hall Association, n.d. Web. 02 Feb. 2015. http://www.ushistory.org/us/40d.asp Rockafellar, Nancy. "The Story of Ishi - Special Topics - A History of UCSF."The Story of Ishi - Special Topics - A History of UCSF. N.p., n.d. Web. 05 Feb. 2015. http://history.library.ucsf.edu/ishi.html video sYNopsis oF performanceArtist statement |
short war stOry project
"LIKE ME"
By Kody John
27 May, 1943 (May 27th, 1943)
Sweetwater, Arizona
I still remember the day they came to Sweetwater; the bright sky carried the blistering sun hovered over their vomit shaded trucks while sixteen American Soldiers along with two recruitment officers and a single commanding officer. Each beared the symbol that stated their rank along their messy uniforms. To me they stood a head or two shorter than myself, how remarkable! At the time I believed the Americans' were all lanky individuals who carried a deep menacing voice. Oh how it hilarious it was to actually see one in person! They're all so short compared to me, as if they are ants and I am the giant as I tower over their "fearsome" officer. His face which was once a stern confident glare instantly curled into an in natrural frown that invaded his fear, that's when I noticed his eyes glaring in awe at me with the upmost shock. The traditional name my mother and father had given me came from within the Mohawk tribe; so they told me I Ratohnhaketon, "A Life that is Scratched;" which meant I'd venture through times of struggle only to overcome them. But I come from a mother born from the Hopi tribe and a father who is born from the Navajo, yet I was given a Mohawk name, traditionally. The Americans' knew me as Isowa Lee Blackhorse, a Navajo, Hopi "Seventeen" year old that towered at a height of 6'11, with shaggy black hair in which each lengthy strand grazed upon the nape of my neck. My mind began to wander into the deepest depths of itself to the point I heard the faint echo of a voice along with an unrecognizable sensation onto my arm which threw me back into reality only to see the American Officer glaring up at me with that timid wide eyed glare of shock with his hazel toned pupils.
"Your eyes," that is what he managed to spit out; shakily. "You have the eyes of a Jap." The muscles in my face merged a quirky look into my eyebros; Those words sent a puzzling sense of what may have been confusion only followed by the tips of my fingers tracing along the slants of my eyes, they shape of my eye lids felt thin and very slanted, but I had never heard of a "Jap" or what it could have been during the fourteen years I had been on Mother Earth.
"A...Jap?" I muttered out moderately,"what is a Jap?" He straightened his back and arched up an eyebrow slightly and let out a low grunt of irritation.
"Them Japs are the Japanese. The enemy, and you look like one of them god damn yellow monkeys!" His voice drew several deep breaths,"only in the eyes kid. Only in the eyes." His grim aggravated mouth then shifted into a crooked yet reassuring grin. Only in the eyes kid…only in the eyes. I shook my head to the right which threw the many strands of hair that limited my vision to the right where they would rest shortly, only to overlap each other over my eyes repeatedly.
I found myself sitting atop a roof running my eyes across the recruitment form with my fingers wrapped around its edges. I'm going to be shipped into a boot amp...followed by a United States Marines outpost on the West Coast where I would receive "Special Training" for operation in the Pacific Theatre, is all that ran through my head after I finished running across the words over and over and over and over again until I grasped a pencil and filled out the form, at the bottom rested a line; its neighbor which was SIGNATURE HERE. I glared down at the writing extensively until I wrote in my name above the emotionless cold line.
SIGNATURE HERE: ISOWA LEE BLACKHORSE
TWO YEARS LATER
19 January, 1943 (January 19th, 1943)
USS Nevada (BB-36)
Within the U.S Pacific Fleet
Somewhere in the Pacific Ocean
I don't even know where I am anymore, somewhere in the Pacific that's for sure. Drifting, moving, sailing; I don't even know what this cruiser is doing! The floating sensation of the cruiser has somehow subsided and I walk the decks of this ship as if it were land. There is only one constant endless reminder that I am aboard the USS Nevada. That unsettling sense that the ocean is trying to desperately move through the hull of each cruiser, carrier, or destroyer but each attempt is repeatedly halted by each and every ships hull. Yet even the ocean, such a large elegant and unforgiving force of nature was unwilling to penetrate an armada of steel. That impact of the waves hitting the hull reminded all of us that we were driting, or something across the Pacific only to fight an enemy most of us have never seen, yet the Japanese are maliciously hated by the majority of the men on this ship, only several of us have no real feelings of people we have neither met nor seen. How can I hate a person I have never met? I couldn't get the thought out of my mind for who knows how long, but the impact of the ocean against the hull launched me back into reality. We're moving, but it seems as if we are in a hurry, the impacts of the ocean grow less but I can't seem to get his echoes to stop. My father's voice still lingers in the back of my head. "Isowa, you have to learn that you are...different, that you are not like your friends, or family. One day you're going to have to accept that It is a part of you that may never go away...that It is what makes you, You. But in the most unnatural way. Son,always remember to stay true to who you are...but do not let It consume you." That's the last thing I ever remember him saying to me, but what is It? P-51 mustangs from a nearby aircraft carrier went airborne for a reason I was unaware of, but it didn't seem to matter since I slowly made my way to my bunk below deck.
28 DAYS LATER
16 February, 1945 (February 16th, 1945)
USS Nevada (BB-36)
Within the Pacific Fleet
Offshore the coast of the Japanese held island Iwo Jima
12:00
All I could do was gaze upon it, Iwo Jima. We had been on this ship for who knows how long, only to be stuck with an island in our frontal direction. My pace slowly increased as each footsteps impact against the hull faded and the only sound heard could be what sounded like rain drops falling splattering the upper deck until my movement halted and my eyes fell upon the island itself. A cloud of smoke which appeared to be growing thicker during another one of the fleets scheduled bombardments hovered around the sandy island, even the tiny crevices had given the illusion that they'd been consumed by the ashy atmosphere. The constant boom, the distant scream, and finally the faint crash, it was their third barrage today; only two more barrages remained for the rest of the current day.
"Blackhorse!" Carter called out while taking quick stried to where I was on the boat; near the cannons on the bow, "I've got ahold of some new information for you and the rest of the special operations unit." My head tilted to the right, shifting several strands of my hair to the right as well.
"Alright Carter, what do you have for me," I finally spoke,my tone cold and monotone; then a sudden shock and awe sensation at the sound of my voice again. I ignored the sensation and leaned against a guard rail and prompted myself to listen to Carter.
"Unlike the rest of the Code Talker squadrons, your squad which consists of three other Code Talkers unlike the standard units with eight . But what sets your unit apart is that the four of you have been exlusivley labelled as elite troopers. This was stated due to the elite training you had received along with being hand picked by president Roosavelt upon seeing each of you during his inspection," he paused, allowing me to process what he had told me. "Giving that, you are receiving the standard radio equipment along with the choice choosing a weapon of your liking. Along with this you will receive a prototype version of what has been called an advancement of warfare in the Pacific; an electromagnetic biochemical pulse rifle. Why we are giving your fire team is to field test this weapon for the first time on an organic being, such as the Japanese," Carter paused. "Alongside this task lie your objectives which will ultimately ensure an American victory over the Japanese, and Blackhorse, your people have brought us closer to victory throughout their involvement in the Pacific. Douglas McCarthur sends his everlasting appreciation to them and your squad in particular. Now rest up Captain, The rest of your team will have to work as one if the D-Day landings for Operation Detachment are to run smoothly and in everyones' favor." I tilted my head forward as a sign of acknowledgement and sauntered my way back to my quarters where my squad awaited my return, each of them in some position of patience.
On the far left side of the room, where my bunk laid, was Corporal Brandon Begay, with his khaki uniform with our special operation insignia on his right shoulder. His eyes were as thin as mine but the shade of his pupils resembled mud that had touched cement. His hair only touched his ears, each strand nowhere as long as mine but his hair was there; the structure of his face made his eyes look slightly thin yet his jawbone was what made him stand out, it was a sharp one. A foot away was Private First Class Danny Yahzee who was slouching in his tattered uniform. His eyes carried pupils that beared a maroon shade, yet the shape of his eyes were molded into those of an Eagle. Then again his facial features were intimidating, almost as if his face could resemble a coyote, given that most of our White comrades had a tendency to show fear when either they had approached him or if he'd approached them. On the right side of the quarter lay Sergeant Charlie Pinto who rested on his bunk in an unnatural position which appeared as if he were sitting on his head. His features were what set him apart from the rest of us, with him being the shortest out of the four of us, his facial features were very feminine which were more in his since eyes. He'd told us most of his genetics came from his mother, alongside the realization his build was very feminine and petite as well. Each of them looked up at me with a curious expression since they're narrow eyes slightly widened along with Danny's mouth slightly opening.
"So what did Carter tell you?" Brandon questioned while his teeth bit his lower lip, showing that he was interested. I pulled each bit of information that I was given and lowered my jaw.
"The four of uf have been labelled as an elite unit," I spoke. Charlie's eyes widened and he shifted his body to where he was actually sitting, then he waved his hand back at him which told me to keep talking. "We were hand picked by the President himself; alongside that, the beach landings will begin three days from now. We have been issued standard radio equipment and have also been granted to take any weapon of our liking for the duration of the landings of Iwo Jima. That said, we will also be combat testing a new weapon that they're calling a electromagnetic biochemical pulse rifle. Our primary objectives list from radioing in enemy positions and also eliminating any and all threats on the island alongside testing the rifle. Is the information clear?" Danny, Charlie, and Brandon gave nods and utterances of approval as each of them promptly stretched out their arms in a stretching gesture. "So you may as well mentally prepare yourself for the worst because there's this sense that many are not going to survive." Each of their faces went pale as I exited the room.
62 HOURS 59 MINUTES LATER
19 February, 1945 (February 19th, 1945)
LVT-4 (Landing Vehicle, Tracked)
Headed onto the beaches of Iwo Jima
V Amphibious Corps - 4th Marine Division - Special Operations
08:59
Silence is all I could hear alongside the motors of the landing craft and the murmurs of my squad and our white comrades. I tightly grasped onto the M1 Garand that I had been holding and gazed upon the distant desolate island as it drew closer to our craft alomgside mamy others. My eyes shot up at the sound of someone who was throwing up his dinner from last night. My head shot up and moved in the direction of the unsettling sound. Captain Louis Peterson was the individual who was bent over, I couldn't help but sense my cheeks forming a weak smile. People are going to die. People are going to die. People are going to die. I swayed my head to the side which flipped my hair to the right and stared back at Iwo Jima which looked just unnatural. I could already feel the tan sand shifting underneath my feet, even though I was standing on the steel structure of the craft.
"Clear the ramp!! Thirty seconds!!" The LVT driver's voice echoed throughout our craft, Voices quietly echoed throughout the landing craft, "Ohno! The japs are waiting for us. The artillery better have done something to them!" Twenty seconds; I felt the pulse rifle shift around on my shoulder as we drew even closer to the beach and gazed down upon the head of the soldiers surrounding me. Each of them were slightly trembling, I could see the creases within their khaki tan combat fatigues shifting rapidly.
Why the hell am I here? Why'd I sign up! I knew this was going to be a shit storm two years ago! Damn it damn it damn it all to hell! I was fourteen then, but I'm only sixteen now! What the hell was I thinking!!! That I'd be some sort of hero? That I'd amount up to something? Why are we fighti-! A sudden tug landed on my shoulder and my eyes moved down at a soldier I'd never seen before. His arm shot in the direction of the island and pointed at it with his left pointer finger. Huh. I slowly backed out of the rear of the landing craft and gaited onto the beach head. Silence, silemce. Finally I could sense the tingling shift of the sand, crumbling and convulsing underneath my chocolate shaded combat boots. It's quiet. Too quiet. I don't see any sign of the enemy at all.
"This hell hole is abandoned! Did the artillery snuff them dry? Because there isn't a Jap that I can see for the majority of this island," Lieutenant Tanner Simmons's voice echoed throughout our section of the beach head. A sense of discomfort fell throughout my body just by setting my feet around the sand. Why does this seem familiar all of a sudden? The unsettling sense grew stronger and my fingertips began to tingle as if they had fallen asleep. They're waiting. They're waiting. Inside…imside those damn two damn mountains. Underneath...inside this island. My eyelids shot up as my vision shot to an unnatural formation in the mountain code named Suribachi. They're everywhere…inside, underneath and all around the island! Ambush…ambush! A flash ignited from the location in the mountain and landed several feet away from me. That was a tank round! That same round turned six men into bodies without arms or legs. Muscles, bones, and blood leaked from the unnatural opening in their bodies , each of them let out blood curtling screams that echoed throughout the beach head. That's when bullets from machine guns began to rain on our positions as many of the young men I'd trained with began to convulse onto the tan sand which instantly turned crimson as blood leaked from the holes around their torsos'.
"Get down!!! Ambush!!!" Carter's voice boomed. I just remained in that same spot on the sand, yet the bullets had managed to miss me repeatedly, until I finally ran across the beach to a foxhole where my squad had been hunkered down as artillery blasts and bullets circled them. My body instinctively dove into the foxhole and then I looked at each of my friends and lightly smiled. Each of them nodded; Danny's arm shot toward a hill that appeared to be a vantage point.
"A vantage point right there," Charlie inquired. "Once we get there, what are your orders." He paused quickly, "sir." My eyes widened at the moment of being referred to as Sir. I signaled for the four of us to move to the vantage point. One by one we sprinted to a protected section of the hill and dug into the sand. "Blackhorse, there's an artillery position in the midsection of Suribachi! We can radio in and zero in for artillery on them! Sir it's your call," Brandon called out. I grasped onto my radio and called in the extension for the gunnery corps.
"Echo Charlie, Echo Charlie! This is Delta thirty six," I hollered. "Behnaalitsosie bealdohtsolani bihłhhasahn behehhozinnaasdzoh, naaki neeznáá náhást'êí náhást'êí hastáá táá' tseebíí!" Static came from the other end and I heard another voice.
"Behehhozinnaasdzoh taahneh!" The other voice replied immediately and an obnoxious boom came from a destroyer off in the fleet. Within three seconds, where the artillery position was, it was shrouded by an explosion that obliterated it; leaving nothing behind.
"Naztsaid taahneh." I echoed through the transmitter. I set the radio back on the paraphanelia on the bag held on my back. "Here's the plan, we are going to have to breach the system they have that's within this island. Well the three of you are going to have to enter from where that artillery position used to be. Clear out as much Japanese as you possibly can within twenty four hours. I am going to find another entry point, when twenty four hours goes by; you're all instructed to link up with the 4th Division. If possible test the pulse rifle on anyone all hostile resistance. No questions. Let's get a move on Delta!" Brandon, Danny, and Charlie; mouths gaping, stared blankly at me. Eventually they stared to trudge their way to the designated entry point I'd given them. That's when I began to trudge along Mount Suribachi, hoping to find another entry point.
Gunfire, artillery, cries. They all faintly rang in the distance as I was sprinting across the sandy terrain; ahead of me lied an area filled with trees. It was rural, but these were not in the briefing photos. I sprinted into the trees until I collided into something that knocked my onto my back, which caused my rifle to slip from my grip. In a daze I managed to get to my knees with my vision blurry but I could see another body. Is that another...person? My vision began to clear and I could make out this person. His eyes we nearly as narrow as min, the shade of his skin was a peachy tan. Each strand of his obsidian colored hovered below his shoulders, yet he was a very thin male; petite. But his uniform was different, yes it was a khaki shaded, but on his right shoulder lied the insignia of the Japanese. This soldier's mouth was gaping at me. A Japanese soldier! A real Japanese person! But he looks so human, human like myself! His hands weren't male though, my eyes slightly widened and I let out an inaudible gasp. Girl?! A girl! Her jaw dropped as a Gasp exited escaped her lips and her eyes glued to mine.
Why is she looking at me like that? THUD!!! My body involuntarily flew from it's knees and I flailed my arms until they skidded against something that felt grassy. The girl had shoved me onto my back, and both of her hands tightly gripped the collar of my uniform within her fragile fists.
"Hey wait!" I uttered at her out of mere frustration since the temperature within the nape of my neck began to rise and the invisible needles began puncturimg my neck over and over again. Her eyes met mine as each pupil darted around and touched each end of her eyes. That went on for what I knew was forever until her eye lids narrowed and the tenseness and straining of my muscles went numb as she shot back up to her feet. My hands pulled my away from her until I could actually stand and not end up nauseous. Her eyes were very much glued to mine.
"Can you understand me?" I said as my head tilted to the left. Her hands were binded together by all ten of her fingers, it was a tight grip because sweat began to emerge from the pores of her wrists. She shakily replied, "Y- yes,"
"Can you speak like me?" My lips uttered in her direction. Her lower lip barely opened,"I can," she replied. My heart dropped into my stomach and all I could do was turn away and begin walking. Back to the beach.
End
By Kody John
27 May, 1943 (May 27th, 1943)
Sweetwater, Arizona
I still remember the day they came to Sweetwater; the bright sky carried the blistering sun hovered over their vomit shaded trucks while sixteen American Soldiers along with two recruitment officers and a single commanding officer. Each beared the symbol that stated their rank along their messy uniforms. To me they stood a head or two shorter than myself, how remarkable! At the time I believed the Americans' were all lanky individuals who carried a deep menacing voice. Oh how it hilarious it was to actually see one in person! They're all so short compared to me, as if they are ants and I am the giant as I tower over their "fearsome" officer. His face which was once a stern confident glare instantly curled into an in natrural frown that invaded his fear, that's when I noticed his eyes glaring in awe at me with the upmost shock. The traditional name my mother and father had given me came from within the Mohawk tribe; so they told me I Ratohnhaketon, "A Life that is Scratched;" which meant I'd venture through times of struggle only to overcome them. But I come from a mother born from the Hopi tribe and a father who is born from the Navajo, yet I was given a Mohawk name, traditionally. The Americans' knew me as Isowa Lee Blackhorse, a Navajo, Hopi "Seventeen" year old that towered at a height of 6'11, with shaggy black hair in which each lengthy strand grazed upon the nape of my neck. My mind began to wander into the deepest depths of itself to the point I heard the faint echo of a voice along with an unrecognizable sensation onto my arm which threw me back into reality only to see the American Officer glaring up at me with that timid wide eyed glare of shock with his hazel toned pupils.
"Your eyes," that is what he managed to spit out; shakily. "You have the eyes of a Jap." The muscles in my face merged a quirky look into my eyebros; Those words sent a puzzling sense of what may have been confusion only followed by the tips of my fingers tracing along the slants of my eyes, they shape of my eye lids felt thin and very slanted, but I had never heard of a "Jap" or what it could have been during the fourteen years I had been on Mother Earth.
"A...Jap?" I muttered out moderately,"what is a Jap?" He straightened his back and arched up an eyebrow slightly and let out a low grunt of irritation.
"Them Japs are the Japanese. The enemy, and you look like one of them god damn yellow monkeys!" His voice drew several deep breaths,"only in the eyes kid. Only in the eyes." His grim aggravated mouth then shifted into a crooked yet reassuring grin. Only in the eyes kid…only in the eyes. I shook my head to the right which threw the many strands of hair that limited my vision to the right where they would rest shortly, only to overlap each other over my eyes repeatedly.
I found myself sitting atop a roof running my eyes across the recruitment form with my fingers wrapped around its edges. I'm going to be shipped into a boot amp...followed by a United States Marines outpost on the West Coast where I would receive "Special Training" for operation in the Pacific Theatre, is all that ran through my head after I finished running across the words over and over and over and over again until I grasped a pencil and filled out the form, at the bottom rested a line; its neighbor which was SIGNATURE HERE. I glared down at the writing extensively until I wrote in my name above the emotionless cold line.
SIGNATURE HERE: ISOWA LEE BLACKHORSE
TWO YEARS LATER
19 January, 1943 (January 19th, 1943)
USS Nevada (BB-36)
Within the U.S Pacific Fleet
Somewhere in the Pacific Ocean
I don't even know where I am anymore, somewhere in the Pacific that's for sure. Drifting, moving, sailing; I don't even know what this cruiser is doing! The floating sensation of the cruiser has somehow subsided and I walk the decks of this ship as if it were land. There is only one constant endless reminder that I am aboard the USS Nevada. That unsettling sense that the ocean is trying to desperately move through the hull of each cruiser, carrier, or destroyer but each attempt is repeatedly halted by each and every ships hull. Yet even the ocean, such a large elegant and unforgiving force of nature was unwilling to penetrate an armada of steel. That impact of the waves hitting the hull reminded all of us that we were driting, or something across the Pacific only to fight an enemy most of us have never seen, yet the Japanese are maliciously hated by the majority of the men on this ship, only several of us have no real feelings of people we have neither met nor seen. How can I hate a person I have never met? I couldn't get the thought out of my mind for who knows how long, but the impact of the ocean against the hull launched me back into reality. We're moving, but it seems as if we are in a hurry, the impacts of the ocean grow less but I can't seem to get his echoes to stop. My father's voice still lingers in the back of my head. "Isowa, you have to learn that you are...different, that you are not like your friends, or family. One day you're going to have to accept that It is a part of you that may never go away...that It is what makes you, You. But in the most unnatural way. Son,always remember to stay true to who you are...but do not let It consume you." That's the last thing I ever remember him saying to me, but what is It? P-51 mustangs from a nearby aircraft carrier went airborne for a reason I was unaware of, but it didn't seem to matter since I slowly made my way to my bunk below deck.
28 DAYS LATER
16 February, 1945 (February 16th, 1945)
USS Nevada (BB-36)
Within the Pacific Fleet
Offshore the coast of the Japanese held island Iwo Jima
12:00
All I could do was gaze upon it, Iwo Jima. We had been on this ship for who knows how long, only to be stuck with an island in our frontal direction. My pace slowly increased as each footsteps impact against the hull faded and the only sound heard could be what sounded like rain drops falling splattering the upper deck until my movement halted and my eyes fell upon the island itself. A cloud of smoke which appeared to be growing thicker during another one of the fleets scheduled bombardments hovered around the sandy island, even the tiny crevices had given the illusion that they'd been consumed by the ashy atmosphere. The constant boom, the distant scream, and finally the faint crash, it was their third barrage today; only two more barrages remained for the rest of the current day.
"Blackhorse!" Carter called out while taking quick stried to where I was on the boat; near the cannons on the bow, "I've got ahold of some new information for you and the rest of the special operations unit." My head tilted to the right, shifting several strands of my hair to the right as well.
"Alright Carter, what do you have for me," I finally spoke,my tone cold and monotone; then a sudden shock and awe sensation at the sound of my voice again. I ignored the sensation and leaned against a guard rail and prompted myself to listen to Carter.
"Unlike the rest of the Code Talker squadrons, your squad which consists of three other Code Talkers unlike the standard units with eight . But what sets your unit apart is that the four of you have been exlusivley labelled as elite troopers. This was stated due to the elite training you had received along with being hand picked by president Roosavelt upon seeing each of you during his inspection," he paused, allowing me to process what he had told me. "Giving that, you are receiving the standard radio equipment along with the choice choosing a weapon of your liking. Along with this you will receive a prototype version of what has been called an advancement of warfare in the Pacific; an electromagnetic biochemical pulse rifle. Why we are giving your fire team is to field test this weapon for the first time on an organic being, such as the Japanese," Carter paused. "Alongside this task lie your objectives which will ultimately ensure an American victory over the Japanese, and Blackhorse, your people have brought us closer to victory throughout their involvement in the Pacific. Douglas McCarthur sends his everlasting appreciation to them and your squad in particular. Now rest up Captain, The rest of your team will have to work as one if the D-Day landings for Operation Detachment are to run smoothly and in everyones' favor." I tilted my head forward as a sign of acknowledgement and sauntered my way back to my quarters where my squad awaited my return, each of them in some position of patience.
On the far left side of the room, where my bunk laid, was Corporal Brandon Begay, with his khaki uniform with our special operation insignia on his right shoulder. His eyes were as thin as mine but the shade of his pupils resembled mud that had touched cement. His hair only touched his ears, each strand nowhere as long as mine but his hair was there; the structure of his face made his eyes look slightly thin yet his jawbone was what made him stand out, it was a sharp one. A foot away was Private First Class Danny Yahzee who was slouching in his tattered uniform. His eyes carried pupils that beared a maroon shade, yet the shape of his eyes were molded into those of an Eagle. Then again his facial features were intimidating, almost as if his face could resemble a coyote, given that most of our White comrades had a tendency to show fear when either they had approached him or if he'd approached them. On the right side of the quarter lay Sergeant Charlie Pinto who rested on his bunk in an unnatural position which appeared as if he were sitting on his head. His features were what set him apart from the rest of us, with him being the shortest out of the four of us, his facial features were very feminine which were more in his since eyes. He'd told us most of his genetics came from his mother, alongside the realization his build was very feminine and petite as well. Each of them looked up at me with a curious expression since they're narrow eyes slightly widened along with Danny's mouth slightly opening.
"So what did Carter tell you?" Brandon questioned while his teeth bit his lower lip, showing that he was interested. I pulled each bit of information that I was given and lowered my jaw.
"The four of uf have been labelled as an elite unit," I spoke. Charlie's eyes widened and he shifted his body to where he was actually sitting, then he waved his hand back at him which told me to keep talking. "We were hand picked by the President himself; alongside that, the beach landings will begin three days from now. We have been issued standard radio equipment and have also been granted to take any weapon of our liking for the duration of the landings of Iwo Jima. That said, we will also be combat testing a new weapon that they're calling a electromagnetic biochemical pulse rifle. Our primary objectives list from radioing in enemy positions and also eliminating any and all threats on the island alongside testing the rifle. Is the information clear?" Danny, Charlie, and Brandon gave nods and utterances of approval as each of them promptly stretched out their arms in a stretching gesture. "So you may as well mentally prepare yourself for the worst because there's this sense that many are not going to survive." Each of their faces went pale as I exited the room.
62 HOURS 59 MINUTES LATER
19 February, 1945 (February 19th, 1945)
LVT-4 (Landing Vehicle, Tracked)
Headed onto the beaches of Iwo Jima
V Amphibious Corps - 4th Marine Division - Special Operations
08:59
Silence is all I could hear alongside the motors of the landing craft and the murmurs of my squad and our white comrades. I tightly grasped onto the M1 Garand that I had been holding and gazed upon the distant desolate island as it drew closer to our craft alomgside mamy others. My eyes shot up at the sound of someone who was throwing up his dinner from last night. My head shot up and moved in the direction of the unsettling sound. Captain Louis Peterson was the individual who was bent over, I couldn't help but sense my cheeks forming a weak smile. People are going to die. People are going to die. People are going to die. I swayed my head to the side which flipped my hair to the right and stared back at Iwo Jima which looked just unnatural. I could already feel the tan sand shifting underneath my feet, even though I was standing on the steel structure of the craft.
"Clear the ramp!! Thirty seconds!!" The LVT driver's voice echoed throughout our craft, Voices quietly echoed throughout the landing craft, "Ohno! The japs are waiting for us. The artillery better have done something to them!" Twenty seconds; I felt the pulse rifle shift around on my shoulder as we drew even closer to the beach and gazed down upon the head of the soldiers surrounding me. Each of them were slightly trembling, I could see the creases within their khaki tan combat fatigues shifting rapidly.
Why the hell am I here? Why'd I sign up! I knew this was going to be a shit storm two years ago! Damn it damn it damn it all to hell! I was fourteen then, but I'm only sixteen now! What the hell was I thinking!!! That I'd be some sort of hero? That I'd amount up to something? Why are we fighti-! A sudden tug landed on my shoulder and my eyes moved down at a soldier I'd never seen before. His arm shot in the direction of the island and pointed at it with his left pointer finger. Huh. I slowly backed out of the rear of the landing craft and gaited onto the beach head. Silence, silemce. Finally I could sense the tingling shift of the sand, crumbling and convulsing underneath my chocolate shaded combat boots. It's quiet. Too quiet. I don't see any sign of the enemy at all.
"This hell hole is abandoned! Did the artillery snuff them dry? Because there isn't a Jap that I can see for the majority of this island," Lieutenant Tanner Simmons's voice echoed throughout our section of the beach head. A sense of discomfort fell throughout my body just by setting my feet around the sand. Why does this seem familiar all of a sudden? The unsettling sense grew stronger and my fingertips began to tingle as if they had fallen asleep. They're waiting. They're waiting. Inside…imside those damn two damn mountains. Underneath...inside this island. My eyelids shot up as my vision shot to an unnatural formation in the mountain code named Suribachi. They're everywhere…inside, underneath and all around the island! Ambush…ambush! A flash ignited from the location in the mountain and landed several feet away from me. That was a tank round! That same round turned six men into bodies without arms or legs. Muscles, bones, and blood leaked from the unnatural opening in their bodies , each of them let out blood curtling screams that echoed throughout the beach head. That's when bullets from machine guns began to rain on our positions as many of the young men I'd trained with began to convulse onto the tan sand which instantly turned crimson as blood leaked from the holes around their torsos'.
"Get down!!! Ambush!!!" Carter's voice boomed. I just remained in that same spot on the sand, yet the bullets had managed to miss me repeatedly, until I finally ran across the beach to a foxhole where my squad had been hunkered down as artillery blasts and bullets circled them. My body instinctively dove into the foxhole and then I looked at each of my friends and lightly smiled. Each of them nodded; Danny's arm shot toward a hill that appeared to be a vantage point.
"A vantage point right there," Charlie inquired. "Once we get there, what are your orders." He paused quickly, "sir." My eyes widened at the moment of being referred to as Sir. I signaled for the four of us to move to the vantage point. One by one we sprinted to a protected section of the hill and dug into the sand. "Blackhorse, there's an artillery position in the midsection of Suribachi! We can radio in and zero in for artillery on them! Sir it's your call," Brandon called out. I grasped onto my radio and called in the extension for the gunnery corps.
"Echo Charlie, Echo Charlie! This is Delta thirty six," I hollered. "Behnaalitsosie bealdohtsolani bihłhhasahn behehhozinnaasdzoh, naaki neeznáá náhást'êí náhást'êí hastáá táá' tseebíí!" Static came from the other end and I heard another voice.
"Behehhozinnaasdzoh taahneh!" The other voice replied immediately and an obnoxious boom came from a destroyer off in the fleet. Within three seconds, where the artillery position was, it was shrouded by an explosion that obliterated it; leaving nothing behind.
"Naztsaid taahneh." I echoed through the transmitter. I set the radio back on the paraphanelia on the bag held on my back. "Here's the plan, we are going to have to breach the system they have that's within this island. Well the three of you are going to have to enter from where that artillery position used to be. Clear out as much Japanese as you possibly can within twenty four hours. I am going to find another entry point, when twenty four hours goes by; you're all instructed to link up with the 4th Division. If possible test the pulse rifle on anyone all hostile resistance. No questions. Let's get a move on Delta!" Brandon, Danny, and Charlie; mouths gaping, stared blankly at me. Eventually they stared to trudge their way to the designated entry point I'd given them. That's when I began to trudge along Mount Suribachi, hoping to find another entry point.
Gunfire, artillery, cries. They all faintly rang in the distance as I was sprinting across the sandy terrain; ahead of me lied an area filled with trees. It was rural, but these were not in the briefing photos. I sprinted into the trees until I collided into something that knocked my onto my back, which caused my rifle to slip from my grip. In a daze I managed to get to my knees with my vision blurry but I could see another body. Is that another...person? My vision began to clear and I could make out this person. His eyes we nearly as narrow as min, the shade of his skin was a peachy tan. Each strand of his obsidian colored hovered below his shoulders, yet he was a very thin male; petite. But his uniform was different, yes it was a khaki shaded, but on his right shoulder lied the insignia of the Japanese. This soldier's mouth was gaping at me. A Japanese soldier! A real Japanese person! But he looks so human, human like myself! His hands weren't male though, my eyes slightly widened and I let out an inaudible gasp. Girl?! A girl! Her jaw dropped as a Gasp exited escaped her lips and her eyes glued to mine.
Why is she looking at me like that? THUD!!! My body involuntarily flew from it's knees and I flailed my arms until they skidded against something that felt grassy. The girl had shoved me onto my back, and both of her hands tightly gripped the collar of my uniform within her fragile fists.
"Hey wait!" I uttered at her out of mere frustration since the temperature within the nape of my neck began to rise and the invisible needles began puncturimg my neck over and over again. Her eyes met mine as each pupil darted around and touched each end of her eyes. That went on for what I knew was forever until her eye lids narrowed and the tenseness and straining of my muscles went numb as she shot back up to her feet. My hands pulled my away from her until I could actually stand and not end up nauseous. Her eyes were very much glued to mine.
"Can you understand me?" I said as my head tilted to the left. Her hands were binded together by all ten of her fingers, it was a tight grip because sweat began to emerge from the pores of her wrists. She shakily replied, "Y- yes,"
"Can you speak like me?" My lips uttered in her direction. Her lower lip barely opened,"I can," she replied. My heart dropped into my stomach and all I could do was turn away and begin walking. Back to the beach.
End