Film on Navajo veterans uncovers painful past

CHINLE, May 8, 2008

A new documentary about Navajo veterans premiered here last Wednesday to its toughest possible audience: Navajo veterans.

For the most part, "Spirit Warriors: A Legacy of the Navajo Veteran" got rave reviews when it was unveiled at a Central Agency veterans conference. Some vets wished it could have been longer.

"It seemed like you just got following one guy and they would switch to a different guy," complained Korean War veteran Clarence Gorman. "But it was interesting hearing all those people express their views.

"Wherever it may be shown," he said, "I hope people will understand what Navajos have gone through for this country."

The documentary, by award-winning independent film company Guerilla Docs, relies mostly on interviews filmmaker Randall Wilson collected over two week-long visits to the Navajo Nation, interspersed with historical footage from the 1920s through the 1960s.

"I went to the National Archives in College Park, Md., and spent seven days locked in their library," Wilson said. "They had some wonderful footage."

Wilson said he was inspired to do a series of documentaries on Native American veterans while filming a miniseries on Vietnam vets.

"What really surprised me about the Native American veterans was the patriotism," Wilson said. "To see that patriotism for a country that has treated them so badly over the years, that was the thing that really struck me."

Navajo Code Talker Samuel Tso said the interview with Wilson wasn't the first time someone had asked him why he would fight for a country that abused his people.

"I get asked that a lot," he said.

The answer is simple, according to Tso.

"The way I see it, the whole U.S. still belongs to us Indians," he said. "The Anglo soldiers were helping us defend our land, not the other way around."

He admitted he was taken aback when, after joining the Marines, "some of the fellows didn't want to serve alongside us Indians."

He didn't pay attention to the bigots then, or when he asked someone back home to send him a necklace of juniper seeds for protection.

"Some of the guys said, 'Chief, that's horse s--t," Tso recalled. "Those guys are all pushing up daisies now, and I'm still here."

It's the kind of story Wilson was after.

"The veterans were all saying, 'Oh, you want war stories,'" he recalled. "I said, 'No, I want you to tell me about the sacrifices you made, what you went through."

Wilson got about 20 vets to talk. Some just plain refused.

"I didn't want to be a part of the movie," said Vietnam veteran Lee Chee. "It took me years to forget about all that stuff. If I start talking about it now, I'll probably start having flashbacks again."

Fellow Vietnam veteran Don Bizadi sees his friend's point.

"A lot of us Vietnam vets, when we hear people talk about Vietnam, we think, 'I didn't see you there, so shut up,'" Bizadi said.

Bizadi decided to be a part of the film on the advice of his wife of 36 years, Virginia.

"I said, 'Maybe if you get this off your chest, it will ease your pain,'" Virginia Bizadi recalled.

Her husband, a former Airborne Ranger who was sent on several missions where his instructions were "Kill anything that moves" came back with a severe case of post-traumatic stress he's still fighting.

"I was really glad Randall let us talk about that side of it, because that's the side of war you don't usually hear about in these documentaries," he said. "Usually they just want the John Wayne stories."

To a man, the veterans interviewed for the film said they experienced PTSD - although most of them couldn't label it at the time.

"I didn't know I had PTSD until I started coming to the veterans' center about five years ago," said Gorman, the Korea vet. "I used to tell my wife, 'Don't ever touch me on the shoulder while I'm asleep. I don't know what will happen."

Lisa James, whose son started exhibiting paranoia and sleeplessness after returning from Iraq, said she found the film comforting.

"It was educational for me," she said. "Sometimes you think you're all alone and then you see all your friends and neighbors up there, talking about this stuff. You can live right next door to somebody and never know what they're going through."

Tom Gorman, director of Navajo Nation veterans' services for the Chinle area, said he feels that's the real value of the film.

"Sometimes veterans don't talk about these things because it just doesn't come up," he said. "Like Lisa said, there's no way to know what the next person is going through unless they talk about it."

Gorman emphasized that there is counseling available though the area veterans centers for both veterans and their families.

Perhaps most affected by the "Spirit Warriors" was Judy Bahe of Chinle, whose father, Code Talker Roy Notah, had been interviewed but died before the film came out.

"I saw my dad again," Bahe said. "It was remorseful for me, but at the end I felt good. All these people's descendants will be able to see them talking about their experiences. We should show it in all the schools."

Wilson thinks that's a good idea. At the moment, however, he's trying to get "Spirit Warriors" on the Public Broadcasting System.

"I should here back from them within six weeks," he said.

To see a promotional clip of the film, go to http://www.guerrilladocs.com/production_swarriors.shtml.

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