Epigraphs are like little appetizers to the great entrée of a story. They illuminate important aspects of the story, and they get us headed in the right direction.
This book is dedicated to the 420 World War II Navajo Marine code talkers—men who developed and implemented an unbreakable communications system that helped ensure the American defeat of the Japanese in the Pacific war.
When the war ended, other combatants were free to discuss their roles in the service and to receive recognition for their actions. But the Marines instructed us, the code talkers, to keep our accomplishments secret. We kept our own counsel, hiding our deeds from family, friends, and acquaintances. Our code was finally declassified in 1968, twenty-three years after the war's end.
This book may be my story, but it is written for all of these men.
May they and their loved ones walk in beauty.
What's up with the epigraph?
What's up with this epigraph is it makes us go all misty-eyed, is what's up with this epigraph.
The epigraph of this book isn't a quotation from another text (which is what epigraphs usually are). It's a dedication that Chester gives to his fellow Navajo code talkers. What's important about this epigraph is that it sets Chester's story within the context of the stories of all of the Navajo code talkers. Even though the book is his story, it's "written for all of these men." In this way Chester frames his story as that of a group, and not a story of a single person or hero.
… as if you needed another reason to understand that Chester Nez is one of the best people ever.