The Secrecy Of Information



The American flag flies over a newly conquered axis airfield. High up in the sky, the sun smiles down upon the new camp, congratulating the soldiers for their victory. A ceremony honoring the dead soldiers has just finished, but one name was missing. 

John sits in his small tent, holding a ripped notepad, and glances at a portable radio backpack lying on the floor. He remembers it all, what transpired that day, his first landing.

***

The landing craft rocked on the stormy sea, the waves lunging and pulling, trying to defeat them before the real battle had begun. John and his radio operator James were Navajo code talkers, tasked with transmitting the most classified information through their unbreakable code. They held onto the railing as the thick black clouds gathered above them. 

It was his birthday, James had just turned eighteen. As part of the Navajo tradition, a bonfire should have been created to celebrate his coming of age. However, John only managed to wish him a prayer. 

John stared up at the dark imposing sky, and an uneasy feeling settled over him, as if the sky was about to crash down. He looked back, and amidst the thick fog, could barely make out the figures of allied warships. The giant steel monstrosities lined their massive guns to obliterate the beach at a word of command. The sergeant told John to pray to whatever deity he believed in as he drew a cross on his chest. The two code talkers copied him, but also prayed for their Creator’s help deep in their hearts. 

After what seemed like decades, the whole craft rocked with a bump, and the shouting of the sergeant meant that they had hit the beach. The two quickly scrambled out of the line of fire, and hid behind a patch of bushes. Amidst all the rushing of feet, gunfire popped. Bam! Bam! 

James took out his radio and switched it on. John took out his notepad and headphones. They set up their equipment, wasting no time, operating like machines. 

Just then, their sergeant approached them: “Tell the ships to open fire, We are all clear.” dibeh lin a-chi bi-so-dih klesh chuo tkin gah dzeh (ships fire). The two men sent the message hastily, and moments later, the entire island shook. The huge ships spewed artillery shells as big as boulders, and they exploded all over the forest. Overhead, allied planes glided across the sky, raining destruction on the unsuspecting enemy. The surprise attack had begun. 

James covered his ears, and John stared at the huge patches of growing fire in the distance. Within minutes, rapid gunfire sounded in the distance, followed with the occasional explosion. Bam! Bam! Bam! Boom! Their two bodyguards crouched next to them, silent, cold, without muttering a word. Each was equipped with nothing but a pistol. Radio messages came frequently, and the two men relayed their intel with the sergeant who would often run off and inform yet another officer. The two code talkers knew the chain of communication and the importance of each role. They understand that the world of information was also a world of secrecy, and it was their duty to keep it that way. To never leak the code was the utmost priority. They were taught this upon joining the military a few months earlier. Before long, they started moving with the other soldiers, creeping in the forests while keeping out of the line of fire. James put his pack on, and John sneaked behind his friend.

Suddenly, they were ambushed by a group of enemies. Bam! Bam! Bam! A bodyguard pushed John away, and he fell into a bush. By the time he got back up and peeked around a tree trunk, he nearly screamed. To his left, the sergeant fell dead. In front of him, a bodyguard lay transpired on the ground. But to his right, there was James. 

James clawed at the ground, his face twisted with pain, and his wide eyes staring at the red grass below him. John covered his face, and heard a gunshot from behind him. Bam! A groan from his right side. Then a few shots whizzed past him, a man grunted and crashed behind him. Thud, thud, thud. 

Footsteps approached, and John opened his eyes to catch the enemy vanish into the forest gloom. He stared at his friend James. His eyes were unmoving, a pool of blood had begun to gather, and his radio phone slipped from his sprawled fingers. James, who had just come of age. James, who had just died.

The sky thundered, the clouds swirled, and John stared up as rain fell. It washed away the blood, mud, sweat, tears, and pooled them together on this battlefield. A blast shook the earth, as a machine gun turret exploded in fire. James glanced up, and with blurry eyes, saw high up in the sky, the pilots of the USA triumphant over their enemies, and the victory screech of plane engines roared above the thunder. 

***

John is back in his tent again, and he snatches the portable radio from the floor. He stares at the bullet hole in the front, and wiggles his pinkie in the fabric. Then, he opens the radio pack, and pulls out an old worn photo. He can barely make out the smiling, young man wearing a US Marine Corps uniform, and holding the same radio in his hands. His friend and radio operator, James, a true Navajo warrior, had died an honorable death. 

Looking into his eyes, John remembers his training, where he and many other Navajo men learned the unbreakable code. He then turns the pack over to the other side, and discovers a new hole in the center of the pack. Is that a… He fits his little finger into that hole, then feels a chill go down his spine. A bullet from the back?

“The world of information is also a world of secrecy, and it is our duty to keep it that way,” John mutters, his voice soft, yet sorrowful. He sets the radio back on the floor, then steps out of the tent, pointing his arm to the nearby charred grass, and forms a pistol with his fingers. He then pulls an imaginary trigger. Bam!