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Chapter 237: The Navajo People (1)
🕑 Added 2025-02-21 14:52:12 +0000 UTCA convoy of more than a dozen jeeps roared across the desert at the border of Arizona and New Mexico, heading toward the Navajo Indian Reservation.
On a distant flat-topped mountain, a Native American scout had already spotted the approaching visitors. With a slight movement of his shoulder, the eagle perched on it soared into the sky, letting out a sharp cry as a warning.
Some of the people in the jeeps noticed the eagle circling above, but they remained calm. In fact, there was a sense of nostalgia in their eyes as they watched.
They were also Navajo Indians.
However, they had left their homeland after joining the U.S. military during World War II.
Most of these young Native Americans who enlisted didn't want to return to the barren desert.
But after the war, they struggled to find decent jobs because of discrimination in society.
That's why, when Blackwater International was founded, Aldo recruited many Native American soldiers—especially Navajos, who were widely used as code talkers in the military.
The U.S. military had been using Native Americans as code talkers since World War I.
During that war, many Choctaw people were recruited.
As a result, Native Americans were finally granted U.S. citizenship more than a decade later.
Yes, it was an ironic situation—the people who had lived on this land for countless generations weren’t even recognized as U.S. citizens for over a hundred years. They were treated as foreigners on their own land. It wasn’t until 1924—just 24 years before World War II—that they were finally granted citizenship. Even then, they were treated worse than African Americans.
At the beginning of World War II, the U.S. military used the Choctaw language as a code, but Japanese spies quickly cracked it. This led to major losses for the U.S. military.
To counter this, the military recruited Navajo code talkers because their language was more complex and less widely understood.
This made U.S. military codes among the hardest in the world to decipher.
Josh had seen a movie about this in his past life—a big-budget film directed by Wu Baige, starring Nicolas Cage, called Windtalkers. It told a similar story.
But after World War II ended, these Native American soldiers were discharged and returned to the same discrimination they faced before the war.
In the cities, they struggled to find decent jobs and were forced into hard labor.
Yet, they didn’t want to return to the reservations either. Having adapted to life outside, they didn't want to return to a harsh existence.
Under these circumstances, when Aldo founded Blackwater International, he was able to recruit many Native American soldiers.
That’s who was in this convoy of jeeps—Blackwater International operatives, with Aldo himself sitting in the front passenger seat.
For many of these soldiers, returning to the reservation felt like coming home—even if it wasn’t a home they particularly liked.
"Sir, that's one of our tribe's scout eagles!" A Native American soldier in the back of a jeep pointed to the circling eagle and spoke to Aldo in the front.
"I see it... Say, when we finally move, what do you think about catching some bald eagles to raise?" Aldo asked, his thoughts suddenly drifting elsewhere.
"Uh... I don't know, Sir. I haven't given it much thought," the soldier hesitated, surprised by Aldo's random question.
"Oh, be more confident, Bresta. I’ve told you before—you have a unique talent. A few hundred years ago, you would have been a hero to our people. But you need to work on your attitude," Aldo said, looking at him with a grin.
Bresta just chuckled without arguing.
He was young, only 17.
Unlike most of the other Native Americans who had military experience, Bresta was someone Aldo had found on a construction site.
The boy had gotten into some trouble and Aldo happened to be passing by. He lent a hand, and that was how Bresta ended up here.
He hadn't expected the young man to be from the same tribe as him.
But it wasn't too surprising. Because of his background, Aldo had left the reservation with his mother at a young age and rarely returned. After his mother died a few years ago, he never went back. Only his uncle visited him occasionally, bringing him small gifts from the reservation.
So it was normal for him not to recognize many people from the tribe.
But fate had brought them together. He liked the young man, but life hadn't been kind to him. So Aldo recruited him into Blackwater.
As the CEO of Blackwater International, he had the authority to do so.
Besides, it wasn't really favoritism. After a short period of training, Bresta met the company’s recruitment standards—surpassing even many veterans in skill.
His only weakness was his introverted personality.
In that regard, he was the complete opposite of Aldo.
But Bresta had been right about one thing—he hadn’t received much education. The level of education among Native Americans was extremely low, and they weren't allowed to attend white schools. His worldview was still limited, so he couldn’t give an opinion on whether the tribe should migrate.
"Sir, it's a patrol!"
Before they could continue the conversation, the driver had already slowed the jeep to a stop.
The reason was simple; up ahead, a cavalry unit of about 20 or 30 men had blocked the road, armed with rifles.
Their traditional Indian dress clearly identified them as the patrol of Aldo's mother's Navajo tribe.
"I am Aldo, grandson of the Quechan!" Aldo stepped out of the jeep and called out in their native language.
Quechan was his grandfather's name. In Navajo, the words for "grandson" and "maternal grandson" were the same.
"The chief has a grandson?"
The members of the patrol exchanged uncertain glances. Most of them looked weathered from the harsh desert climate, but in reality they weren't much older than Aldo. They didn't recognize him, and even if some had heard of him, so many years had passed that they had long forgotten.
For a moment, the atmosphere was awkward.
Fortunately, Bresta and several other Navajo soldiers stepped out of the jeeps at that moment.
"Uncle Cody, it's me, Bresta!" Bresta called to one of the patrolmen.
"Bresta? Arce? Morales? You're all back?"
The cavalrymen were shocked to see so many familiar faces getting out of the vehicles. These men had left only a few years ago, and being about the same age, they were far more recognizable than a supposed grandson of the chief.
With their confirmation, the patrol finally accepted that Aldo was indeed the chief's grandson. They then led the convoy toward the settlement.
