Open Writing

You could not tell by looking at me that I am a Wind Talker. You would have to talk to me for a long time and the subject of my nurture among the folded hills at the confluence of the Colne and Holme Rivers would have to be a primary area of interest. It is not widely known that all of us who were sprouted and brought to man’s years in that area and then moved to different parts of the country or even other parts of the world, were the original Wind Talkers.

To the best of my knowledge, we have not been recognised as such, and no award has been made for our contributions to cross-cultural understanding and education. Although I and my fellow West Ridingers have carried out our selfless missionary service of rectifying strange accents held in other parts of our native land we have not had the signal recognition or prestigious awards thus merited.

Few are even aware that the title of Wind Talkers is a corruption of the Broad Yorkshire term, “Wind Tooa’kers,” that designated persons of noble Yorkshire lineage who could converse with people who did not originate in their own villages or neighbourhoods with comparative ease because they had a natural gift of language. This enabled them, miraculously, to step outside the Nordic Code that is the root of Broad Yorkshire Dialect, a language of more ancient provenance than English, whether the Queen’s, King’s, or any other.

The natural superiority of this Divine linguistic endowment is evident by the fact that no outsider can fathom it, yet our colonial wanderings have taken us to no place but what we could grasp the vernacular in a flash, sometimes in two flashes, and understand the natives perfectly well as if we had been born and raised among them.

Incredible as it sounds, we are still neglected and overlooked. When ‘Wind Talkers’ enters the conversation it always refers to the United States’ Marine Corp’s group of Navajos that was formed during the Second World War, also called Wind Talkers.
Just like Tykes do, they used the Navajo language to send messages via radio transmissions that the enemy was unable to decipher. Many American soldiers owe their lives to the Navajo code used by Navajo Wind Talkers. Without the Wind Talkers the US Marines could never have taken fastnesses held by massive concentrations of Japanese troops, including Guadalcanal, Tarawa, Peleliu, and Iwo Jima, each of which was captured by the Wind Talkers unit. Wind Talkers were involved in every assault by the Marines in the Pacific theatre from 1942 to 1945, and were dispersed in all six Marine divisions, Marine battalions, and Marine airborne units, transmitting coded messages by field telephony and field wireless radio.

Navajo, like Broad Yorkshire, is an unwritten language and unintelligible to anyone except another Navajo, and is a rich language in which code words could be invented for military terms, For example, the Navajo word "turtle" was used to signify a battle tank.

In the battlefield, officers gave highly sensitive messages to one of the Navajo Wind Talkers who translated it into his tribal dialect and then transmitted it to a Navajo in another location. This Indian translated it back into English as it was in the original. There was never any indication that messages in the Navajo language were ever deciphered b y the Japanese.
It is exactly the case with my native tongue. Although I have been passing myself off as English since my seventeenth year when I joined the British Army to make the world a safer place, and landed myself among foreigners of every shape, size, and tongue - some even from Lancashire! - I have modulated my ancient territorial patois to be understood by the many tongued populace of the British isles, to reduce their confusion. It is, of course, a kindness born out of an awareness of our heaven-sent and divinely imposed mission to the less-favoured, that Yorkshire folk are famous for and fêted the world over.

Whilst the Geordies torture northern English with such crude phrases as, “A’m gannin yem, man,” to indicate their imminent departure to their domiciliary establishments, which is readily understood by the dimmest of non-Geordies, when a Yorkshireman announces a similar errand with, “A’hm bahn wham, nah, lad!” it is received with the blankest of blank stares by the unblessed. This perceptible confusion is evident in all statements made in the Language of Eden.

A Scot might say, “Hoots, mon,” which is understood without difficulty. It is the human equivalent of blowing the horn of a motor car, and merely declares the presence of a kilted one. On the other hand, a Yorkshireman offering his customary, “Nah then!” speaks volumes. The particular volume depending on the inflection, context, stress, and tonal delivery of the phrase. The phrase “Nah then” has at least ten discrete meanings fathomable only to Yorkshirecenti.

When the Irish make the salute of ‘Tap a’ de marning to ye, sor!” it is never misunderstood. But it is not a profound statement and carries no expansive sentiment, only that he has seen you and probably wishes to you no great harm. It is safest received with not too strong a smile, and a brisk removal of the self from the immediate vicinity of the red-haired leprechaun.

Conversely, the Yorkshire salutation, “Ey up!” carries in it a wealth of meaning. The meaning can only be determined by one fully conversant with the Old Norse Dialect that is our μητρική γλώσσα, and even then there are several – I know at least seven without trying hard – interpretations, each dependent on stress, inflexion, facial expression, and the set of the eyes. It can be a simple warning, an exclamation of surprise, a retort at the unexpected, a more dire warning, an alarm at immanent danger, an expression of profound affection, and, in the mouth of the properly raised and inculcated, a statement of soaring passion.

I am not the only one who holds this position apropos Wind Talking. Owd Sam Beaumont, a onetime neighbour, with whom I shared my theories said, “It remahnds me o’t tahm whan I wer a lad, and mi fether wor in’t aht’ ‘ous an’ I sed to mi mither, ‘What’s yon noise?’ An’ she said ‘It’s nobbut t’ Wind Tahkin’, lad! Gerronwiyertay, afoor it gits cowd.’” Ah wor bahn ter say as ‘ow ah agreed wi’ ‘im. An’ ah still dooa. Dun’t tha?
I could give many more examples that prove the point I am labouring, but perhaps these are sufficient to vindicate my claim that while I can understand everyone who speaks some kind of English, none of them can understand me when I slip back into the Viking Language that suffused my soul and body a lifetime ago when I trod the hills of Huddersfield and environs.

In recognition of their dedicated service to America during World War II, the Navajo code talkers were awarded a Certificate of Appreciation from the President of the United States in December 1981. Their unique achievements constitute a proud chapter in the history of the United States Marine Corps. Their patriotism, resourcefulness, and courage also have earned them the gratitude of all Americans.
What do the original Wind Tooa’kers get? Nowt! Ahbserlooterly blummin’ nowt, an’ it in’t raht!

Copyraht © 2006 Ronnie Bray
Owall Reiyts Risahrvid

Read other stories by Ronnie at:
http://www.2theheart.com/author_ronnie_bray
http://www.meridianmagazine.com/voices/011024summer.html