 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
|
 |
 |
Philip Yazzie
When a field artillery shell lands after being fired, it explodes with tremendous force,
sending a spray of steel shell fragments in all directions. The concussion can kill within a
distance of perhaps six feet; the shell fragments may be lethal as far as a hundred feet to either
side-if they hit you. If you are lying prone when the shell bursts, a comparatively low swell in the
ground between you and the burst can shield you. That's why foot soldiers "hit the dirt."
Why does the shell explode when it hits? It's all done by a little device in the nose of the
shell called a fuze (spelled with a z). When the shell is stopped, or even slowed appreciably in its
flight, a little plunger in the fuze flies forward and starts a rapid chain reaction that causes the
explosion. To guard against the possibility of a careless ammunition handler dropping a shell
before it even gets inside the cannon, the fuze is designed to stay inactive until it has made a
goodly number of spiral spins - something that automatically happens to it when it is fired. It
should be safe then, until it has at least left the muzzle of the cannon, and hopefully for a ways
beyond that.
Since artillery is normally fired over something that is between it and the enemy target, it
is important that it not be fired so that it will strike anything before it gets out of friendly
territory, since artillery shells are too dumb to know friend from foe. So every time a howitzer
goes into position and is readied for firing, the chief of section (sergeant in charge of that
cannon) must measure the angle to the top of the nearest obstacle in front of the howitzer, report
this "minimum elevation," and see that the weapon is not fired at any lower angle. If the obstacle
is a tree, he may send someone out to chop it down.
Enter the Hero
Philip Yazzie was a man of about twenty, 5'4" in height, with a stocky build and a
guarded, sullen expression when he joined us at Camp Barkeley. He was handicapped by being
both short and inarticulate. He only spoke Navajo, and I suspect that he wasn't very loquacious in
it. Although he probably understood a little simple English, his first few months in the army must
have been bewildering at best, terrifying at worst. And very, very lonely.
We have all heard about the use of Navajo radio operators in the Pacific theater during
WW II using their own language to confuse the enemy, but that presupposed another Navajo to
receive the message. Yazzie was, so far as I know, the only Navajo in the 90th Division, so he
had no one to talk to. If education in ESL was available at the time, nobody knew about it or, I'm
afraid, thought about it. He must have learned some English, because I once saw him actually
speak to the man next to him in formation.
I am told that Yazzie could do more push-ups than anyone else in his battery, and that he
had an uncanny sense of direction and landmarks that made it impossible to get him lost, so that
he kept others from straying. Eventually he became a competent Number 5 cannoneer in the first
section, Battery B, and was promoted to Private First Class (PFC). That was his status when he
arrived in Normandy.
25
|
 |
|