Philip H. Red Eagle

Biographical note:  Philip H. Red Eagle was born in Tacoma, Washington in 1945 and moved to Sitka, Alaska, when he was 14 years old. He received his high school diploma from Sitka Senior High School on 18 May 1963. He was in and out of college for four years, finally enlisting in 1967. After one WesPac tour on the USS Somers, DDG-34 in 1969-70, he made his next tour “In-Country” as a riverboat mechanic from August 1970 to January 1972. It is the observations and feelings from this tour that make up the background of his short stories. Red Earth is his first effort.

BIC Basic

EAN13:  9781844712687
ISBN:  9781844712687
Author:  Philip H. Red Eagle
Title:  Red Earth
Series:  Earthworks
Product class:  BC
Language:  eng
Audience:  General/trade
BIC subject category:  F
Publisher:  Salt Publishing
Pub date:  01-Jan-07
Extent:  152pp
Height:  203 mm
Width:  127 mm
Thickness:  9 mm
Weight:  228 gms
Supplier:   Gardners Books
Supplier:   Ingram Book Group
Supplier:   Inbooks (James Bennett)
Availability:  IP
Price:  GBP 8.99
Price:  USD 14.95
Rights:  World

Main description:  Native American men and women who wound up in Vietnam were very different from traditional warriors. Many had been removed from that traditional culture as many of these warrior traditions had been removed from these new societies and the old traditions had been replaced by Christian practices of various types. The sacred preparations were no longer practiced and the warriors left vulnerable and lacking pertinent knowledge. They were also lacking the homecoming ceremonies. These ceremonies would take place after the warrior was kept from the main camp for four days. In those four days they would fast and purify themselves. Once they returned to the village the warrior was given the opportunity to tell his story in a healing ceremony. His immediate family would be near, or surrounding him. Around them would be the next level of family. Around them would be the remainder of the tribe. Everyone would listen, and remember. That was their duty to him, to listen, and to remember. Each warrior was given this opportunity.

After this ceremony it was understood that this person was now different and would be treated so from then on. This “different” person was now accepted as having been permanently changed. What had happened to him would never go away. His people knew this and they would never go away either. The relationship was understood and bound.

The Vietnam “warriors” were afforded none of these opportunities. They were essentially on their own. For example, when I returned, my unit landed at McChord Air Force Base near Tacoma, Washington at midnight in the winter of 1972, and released for leave; Sprung upon The World. My sister picked me up at the base and we went to downtown Tacoma and had a pizza and a several beers before going to her home. A cousin-by-marriage, whom I had met and served with In-country, was with us. We stayed with my sister for a few days and eventually I went home to Sitka to complete my 45 days leave. My cousin left for his home in Canada at the same time.

This story is repeated over and over again by most everyone that I had a chance to talk, or listen to. In many of these cases, the Vietnam Vet was released and sent home to resentment and hostility. He was not listened to and what ever was expressed was not heard. Many went home on drinking binges that started on the plane or as soon as they were off the plane. No comfort given, not a friendly ear was to be found. At most American Legion Posts beer was free for a while, but after it was determined “these new guys” were really different, the free drinks stopped. What little comfort was given was soon withdrawn.

Soon, the prisons began to fill up with the “new guys”. Violence had become the major expression of this generation of warriors. So many of these new guys were dead, or in prison, not long after their arrival “home”. It was, and still is, a national tragedy.

Table of contents:
Foreword
Preface
Acknowledgements
Red Earth
1954
Red River
Jimmy Johnny’s Zippo
Bois de Sioux
The Fortunate Grandson
Stoney
Bois de Sioux

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Excerpt from book:  

1954

Raymond Crow-Belt sat cross-legged next to his pile of dirt, moving his little green soldiers around at the base of the hill he had just created. It had to be just like Uncle Willy told him it had been on Iwo Jima. Uncle Willy talked a lot about Iwo Jima and the 5th Marines. Raymond adjusted his position and went down on his belly to get closer in, to be really down low, looking up that great mound of rock. “Quew, quew,” he clicked from the back of his mouth. One of the little green men at the top of the hill fell over with a quick flick of his finger.

The air rumbled and he looked up from his war game to see where the storm was coming from. The sky remained clear blue with no sign of clouds. He continued his play. Grandpa’s friends must have come to visit again, he thought.

Later, when he happened to look up at Grandpa’s house, Raymond saw Grandpa and a sad man with a floppy hat looking at him through the kitchen window. Grandpa smiled and they both disappeared from view. In a moment Grandpa came out the back door and walked over to him. Grandpa towered way above the hill at Iwo Jima.

“Grandson, how are you doing? Who’s winning?” Grandpa asked.

“I’m okay, Grandpa. We are. You know,” He replied as he squinted up into the afternoon sky to make eye contact with Grandpa. “Who was that man, Grandpa?” Raymond asked.

“Oh, that was a friend; a close friend. He’s your friend too. He came over to tell me about this little war that’s going on in a far away place,” Grandpa answered.

“Why was he so sad, Gramps?” Raymond asked.

Grandpa Crow-Belt turned his head and gazed at the little window for a moment and turned his head back to Raymond. “Wars are sad, Raymond. You’re only nine. When you get older I’ll tell you about war,” Grandpa answered.

“Can Uncle Willy tell me how sad war is, Gramps?” Raymond persisted.

“I don’t think so, Raymond. Sometimes it’s so sad that you can’t even talk about how sad it is. You’ll learn soon enough. When you get older. Then I can tell you about magic too,” Grandpa answered.

“Magic, Gramps? You said there was no such thing as magic. There’s just Wakan. You said there was just Wakan,” Raymond answered back.

“Wakan? You’re right again, Grandson. There is no magic. Just the mystery and power of what is,” he said. Grandpa raised his head, placed his right hand up to his brow to shield his eyes against the sun, and scanned the western horizon. He reached down and smiled and ruffed Raymond’s hair. He unbent again, turned and headed back toward the little house. Suddenly he turned and spoke again, “I gotta finish nailing something down, Grandson. Pretty soon you come in and eat.” He turned one last time and went back inside.

Unpublished endorsement :  This is truly an important work. Philip Red Eagle’s two novellas under the title Red Earth capture not only what combat was in Vietnam but detail the levels of adjustment that a Native veteran of the war had to go through. In the long run, the book is about courage and healing. What it says about Native healing should be examined very carefully. In the western tradition, healers attempt to cure the body, mind, and spirit. Red Eagle reminds Native and informs western readers that Native healing practices add a forth layer—the environment—to medicine. Without the support of those around him and the understanding of his own people’s sacred geography, the Native veteran’s spirit wanders and is sometimes lost. Red Earth is about strong hearts, wandering spirits, and ultimate healing.

Tom Holm

Unpublished endorsement :  These novellas are how I’ve always imagined indigenous post colonial literature from this continent. They are raw and painfully truthful, as well as stunningly beautiful. Phil Red Eagle has translated the depth, power and beauty of a journey from hell to paradise and back, with a point of view based in tribal realities. In his telling the spirit world does indeed live with us, and in us, despite the severe testing. I often cried as I read, recognized us on these pages. This is the real stuff.

Joy Harlo

Unpublished endorsement :  The days of the Indian warrior did not end at Wounded Knee. However, few writers have presented us with a realistic picture of the contemporary Native American in war. Philip Red Eagle’s personal experience and his narrative gifts blend to make these stories of blood and honor, pain and spiritual renewal as searing as the flash of a hand grenade at night. The first work of Native American fiction to come out of the Vietnam conflict, Red Earth is a unique, powerful and ultimately healing journey.

Joseph Bruchac