Chapter 1: September 12th, 1918

“Incoming!”

Private Toha Smith ducked his head behind the dirt entrenchment as a heavy 6 inch round fired from German artillery less than a mile away flew with steady speed near his position. Machine gun rounds were wising past his head. Toha had little to do but duck his head or risk losing it. The Germans were putting up strong resistance. He held onto his rifle tightly. There was not much he could do.

The private that warned Toha grabbed his M1917 Browning machine gun and started to return fire. A small squad of German soldiers charged at him, Toha, and the other men. It was in the middle of the day.

The artillery round smashed into the dirt and exploded not more than 30 feet away. The mud flung from the ground and flew into the trench that Toha was hiding in. Adrenaline flowed from his body. A small piece of debris smacked against Toha’s helmet as it landed in the ground.

It was the War to End All Wars or as it became called the Great War. The day was September 12^th, 1918, when the American Expeditionary Force led the assault in Saint Mihiel, a commune in Northeast France. This three day conflict would mark the first time the United States Army launched an offensive attack on the Germans. The French and United States forces were allied together.

Toha finally mustered the courage as he looked up above the dirt with his Springfield rifle. He had five rounds to fire into the enemy as he stood up above the trench to look ahead of him. He could see the German soldiers getting close to hitting him.

A heavy artillery round fired from a French Artillery piece struck the exact center of the German squad. Five men lay dead between the Allied and Central trenches. Toha’s head was fully poking out as he looked ahead of him. He could see more of the Germans closing in.

Toha took aim with his rifle directing it at the rushing German soldier. In about less than a minute, he would be on top of him. He found his mark and pulled the trigger. A powerful round struck the enemy soldier in the heart as he fell to the ground.

“Good shot!” yelled the machine gunner. He continued to fire heavy weapons fire downrange. “Seems some of the Indian blood flows in you still.”

Toha pulled the bolt handle up and back, ejecting the spent casing onto the dirt and resetting the bolt back, loading another round into the rifle. He aimed at the next soldier and pulled the trigger. The shot missed as an enemy round struck the dirt a mere foot away from his head. He was forced to duck his head behind cover as he loaded the next round into his rifle.

Toha Smith was a volunteer from the Native American Pima Tribe. This small group of Native American Indians was forced off their land and forced to live in desert-like conditions in Arizona. A large group of the Choctaw Indians had volunteered and used their language as code talkers during the war. Their own language used by their tribe served as the perfect coded words to pass along to friendly soldiers. As long as the Germans never captured one of the Choctaw, there was little to no way the enemy could break their language. Other Native Americans, such as Toha, served as scouts advancing ahead of the group or fighting in the sidelines. It was the most dangerous thing for the Native Americans ever to do. Most were alone, having to fight against an enemy that outnumbered them or gunned them down before they ever made progress. Native Americans like Toha usually had little problem doing such missions as they proved as a way to prove themselves to the tribes at home.

The machine gunner continued to fire at the advancing soldiers. Three of the Germans were shot down. An Allied SPAD S.XIII fighter aircraft flew overhead of him and past the German trenches going after an enemy Albatros D.V. The crude construction of the plane had proven to be pivotal during the warfront as they could easily fight and destroy enemy aircraft that threatened to bomb allied Trenches. Toha had little time to worry about the fight in the air.

Toha looked around him in the trenches. Four other Native American soldiers with him were firing away at the enemy soldiers. He took another deep breath as he stood back up and stuck his head above the trenches looking for the next target to shoot. There were none to shoot. All the German soldiers were dead as the heavy machine gunner stopped shooting. He took the time in the calm of the storm to have his assistant reset a new belt into the machine gun. The gun was extremely hot from the constant firing.

“Where is the tank battalion?” yelled one of the soldiers. They were supposed to be here five minutes ago.

Before Toha could add his two cents into the conversation, a heavy artillery round fired from one of their position behind them flew into the vast distance.

The squad leader that was looking through his binoculars was looking at the location of the allied artillery. A smile was on his face.

“Looks like our artillery is laying waste to them,” said the squad leader.

Toha was taking a look at the battlefield. The ground between them looked like a wasteland of death. Dead bodies or ones near their death, lined the countryside. The grass was reduced to dirt and mud. Crater marks from artillery and bombs littered the area. Trees shattered and shaken from the continuous fire from artillery marked the landscape. Toha was used to these images, but those that have never seen it before would think the land was turned upside down. He felt remorse seeing the pretty countryside get destroyed. It reminded him of home when water was diverted from the reservation to fuel the ever-growing population of the White Men around the Pima.

He looked at the other soldiers as they relaxed from the shooting. All the soldiers were dressed in the same similar U.S. uniform. The uniform-like Toha was wearing was the brown wool dress coat, wool service breeches, trousers, leather boots, belt, long sleeve shirt, and helmet. The allied artillery was still firing their shots towards the enemy entrenchments. The enemy artillery was firing less and less as allied artillery was laying waste to them. He looked at the soldiers as they closed their eyes and began to hum music of songs from their land and culture.

“They hum beautifully,” he thought to himself. “The humming and singing during the shooting would keep us from going mad.”

Native Americans were brave when the war started. Over 10,000 Native Americans volunteered to join the war to help the United States. They were not citizens and could just as easily decide not to be involved in the war at all. Some of the tribes even went as far as declaring war on Germany. This was to show them that they were just a part of the war as every other nation out there desired.

The shelling died down dramatically. Allied artillery was still firing off and on, but it was apparent that the enemy formation was being pushed back or wiped out. Toha was breathing a sigh of relief.

Toha went and removed the magazine of his rifle to insert new rounds from his belt. He reinserted the magazine back into the gun. He sat the butt of the rifle into the dirt floor below him. He then closed his eyes as he hummed along with the fellow soldiers around him. He slipped his hand into his shirt and felt the necklace he wore underneath and pulled it out to look at it.

The necklace he wore depicted a small plate that showed a circular pathway that would slowly and eventually lead to the center. A silhouette of the man representing the Elder Brother or guide would begin at the edge of the maze to work his way to the center.

“The I’itoi is the cornerstone to our people,” he said quietly to himself as he gripped the necklace tightly. “Ancestors, Akmiel O’odham people, my parents, watch over us in our darkest days.”

“New orders,” a new voice rang out. “We need to scout the location ahead of us as the Tanks are closing in to give us support. Toha, it is your time to scout ahead.”

Toha was unnerved. He stuffed the necklace under his shirt again. He breathed hard, knowing he was going into a dangerous area.

The radioman looked at Toha as he added, “You will head East, North East of us. If you encounter resistance, you will take this signal gun and fire it in the air. It will let us know where the enemy is located.

He nodded his head as he took the single-shot signal gun. He lifted his rifle as he took deep breaths.

“We wish you luck brave warrior,” said one of the soldiers.

Toha took a look. He almost stopped noticing that the artillery was still firing. One Krupp 3 Inch artillery piece from the German entrenchment was constantly firing at another allied position, but it was again firing in the extreme distance. Allied artillery was getting close to hitting it.

One of the soldiers looked over the trenches and could see that the last artillery piece in the area was taken down. A shell landed directly on top of it, showering wood, metal, and blood from the gunner.

“That is the last one; most of the opposition in the area is out. Go Toha, Go!”

Toha jogged to the ladder and began to climb up the top of the dirt. With one last leap, he planted his foot at the edge of the trench he was hiding behind. He was in a clear, sniping range. The heavy machine gunner had his hand on the handle, ready to fire on anything that would try to fire at him.

It was dead quiet except the distant sounds of artillery bombardment. The artillery behind him stopped firing to allow Toha clear access to the area without being accidentally shot.