Code Talker by Joseph Bruchac

The next day was a Monday, but I did not go to school. Instead I went with my parents to the Marine Corps office near our tribal headquarters to sign up. My mother and father waited outside for me while I went in.

First Sergeant Frank Shinn, the very same Marine recruiter I had seen in his office the year before, looked me up and down. I knew he was studying me carefully because I was so small, wondering if I was really old enough. Of course, by then he had seen enough Navajo men to know that it is difficult for white men to tell our age by looking at us.