IWO'S "LITTLE CHIEF WINDTALKER"
He wasn't more than five feet four,
But tall enough to go to war.
He really hadn't had to go,
Since he was just a Navajo.
He'd come to take his brother's place,
And that pride shone upon his face.
Soon, just for kicks, we called him "Chief",
But he just grinned and hid his grief.
He tried to take it all in stride
For that brave brother who had died
On far off Saipan's bloody shore
– One more marine beyond death's door.
At bloody Iwo's northern end
"Chief" proved himself to be a friend.
He threw his headset to the ground;
With sniper fire all around,
He ran to join the litter crew
And did just what he had to do.
But as they reached that last high mound,
Our "Little Chief" fell to the ground.
Now that our tears have turned to prayers,
Our eyes lift up through those night flares
And pray to that great Chief above:
"Please send some signs of our real love.
Send some lonesome coyote cry,
Or some soaring eagle on high
To thank his tribe who send a CHIEF
And tell them of our shameful grief
For having mocked their "Little Chief".