Vietnam Vets and Skinwalkers

Wondery Plus subscribers can listen to new episodes of Wartime Stories early and ad-free right now.

Join Wondery Plus in the Wondery app or on Apple Podcasts.

The WNBA playoffs are on the horizon, and Tommy Alter's The Young Man in the Three takes you deeper into the action.

Join Tommy for exclusive WNBA insights as he links up with the league's biggest stars and dives deep into WNBA playoff matchups and analysis you won't hear anywhere else.

The Young Man in the Three's WNBA playoff coverage is presented by Quest Nutrition.

From irresistibly crunchy protein chips to rich chocolatey protein bars, these treats make giving in feel so good.

Quest, big on protein, low on sugar, huge on flavor.

Shop Quest on Amazon at amazon.com slash QuestNutrition.

And check out all the WNBA action on the Young Man in the Three, wherever you get your podcasts.

I've never felt like this before.

It's like you just get me.

I feel like my true self with you.

Does that sound crazy?

And it doesn't hurt that you're gorgeous.

Okay, that's it.

I'm taking you home with me.

I mean, you can't find shoes this good just anywhere.

Find a shoe for every you from brands you love, like Birkenstock, Nike, Adidas, and more at your DSW store or dsw.com.

Of all the paranormal entities within the vast array of Native American culture and legend, there are few that inspire dread like the Skinwalker.

Even the mention of this entity is something shunned by the Navajo people, whose communities are spread amongst the states of New Mexico, Arizona, Utah, and Colorado.

For them, the fear of this creature is quite real.

For two U.S.

Army veterans undergoing a series of medical treatments at a clinic in the small town of Deming, New Mexico in the 1970s, one of them being a Navajo man, their curiosity and a few beers overshadowed any of their concerns.

After accepting an invitation to attend an unusual ritual being carried out in the middle of the desert one night, The two men spent the rest of their lives haunted by the experience, and more so by what took place in the following days.

There's no way to verify the story, but the man who shared it did so, saying that these events actually happened.

A story about two army vets and a dead skinwalker.

I'm Luke Lamana,

and this is Wartime Stories.

This story was submitted to paranormal researchers Gary and Wendy Swanson, and can be found in the pages of their book, Skinwalkers, Shapeshifters, and Native American Curses.

It was written by a U.S.

Army veteran who signed the letter with the initials TS.

For the sake of simplicity, we'll refer to this unknown veteran by the name of Thomas.

For well over 30 years, a story had been weighing on Thomas' mind.

However, he was hesitant to share this tale with others.

Thomas' story, despite his military background and service in the Vietnam War, was far from what you'd expect to hear from someone with his combat experience.

In fact, the story has nothing to do with Vietnam, but the injuries he suffered during the war were the catalyst for his Skinwalker experience.

When Thomas saw Gary and Wendy's open call for their followers to share their own Skinwalker encounters, he felt he could finally share his bizarre story with someone who would sincerely listen.

Oh,

hold up.

What's up?

Something moving.

Over there by the river.

Alright, weapons up.

Let's check it out.

The series of events leading up to Thomas' encounter in the 1970s would begin during his overseas deployment to Vietnam.

According to Thomas, who felt he was still under obligation not to disclose any specific details, His army unit was, around that time, deployed on a covert assignment.

Considering the timeline, it is possible that Thomas was serving alongside other special operations forces in the jungles of Laos or Cambodia during the cross-border conflicts in Vietnam.

But again, the specific details of his service were omitted.

What we do know is that while operating in an undisclosed country, his team was hit by some kind of chemical weapons attack by enemy forces.

Thomas would fortunately survive, but not without severe injury.

His lungs were permanently scarred.

After being extracted, he was rushed to the nearest hospital, where he spent the next month undergoing treatment.

But with the available care being insufficient, the Army cut Thomas' deployment short, sending him and several other wounded men back to the U.S.

in order to receive more specialized medical care.

Thomas would return to his home state of Indiana, enjoying some much-needed rest and recuperation, in between the numerous hospital treatments that were slowly beginning to mend his lungs.

Then, about five years later, Thomas was invited to partake in an experimental medical trial based out of Deming, New Mexico, along with 16 other men suffering from similar conditions.

Having nothing to lose, Thomas gladly accepted the offer.

Once he arrived at the treatment center, Thomas started to get acquainted with the 16 other patients who would also be partaking in the many experimental procedures and exercise programs over the following weeks.

Much to his surprise, within the group of men, a familiar face caught Thomas's attention.

It was his friend and old Army buddy, Dave Longglass.

The two men smiled and slapping one another on the back, immediately gave each other a big bear hug.

During their time in service, Thomas said he and Dave were inseparable, serving together in the same unit for eight years, including two overseas deployments.

It was during the second one that the duo were both hit by the chemical attack.

With both of them suffering lung damage, they hadn't seen each other since the Army had shipped them both back home for treatment.

Thomas to Indiana and Dave to Navajo country in New Mexico.

Fighting in a war together bridges a lot of gaps.

With With Thomas being white and Dave being a Navajo, their differences in culture certainly had no impact on their friendship.

The two men were more akin to brothers, their service together in the Army uniting them on a far deeper level than anything else could.

Now finding themselves in another unfamiliar environment, it was comforting to know they would once again have each other's backs as they began this new experimental treatment.

What was it we said?

Loser has to buy the next round?

I'm just saying, Matt.

I'm just saying,

I'm almost starting to feel bad.

Yeah, crap.

Well, well, well.

You cleaned everybody out at the card table, but

looks like I might finally have the upper hand.

Maybe I can finally win my money back.

Yeah, thanks again.

I think all those paychecks you guys lost put the down payment on my house.

Too bad I seem to spend more time at the damned VA hospital.

Oh man.

Wait times are insane.

I'm not even sure why they flew us back here.

But

hey Tommy,

I'm glad you're here for this whole treatment thing.

Misery less company, right?

Me?

You, against the VA?

Some reason I feel like we'd have better luck against the NVA.

All right, I'm a man of my word.

What are we drinking?

Another beer for me.

Thanks.

Hey, Rick, is that you, man?

Are you sitting by yourself?

In between their periods of treatment and light exercise programs, Thomas and Dave were left with plenty of time on their hands.

With their evenings free and five years of lost time to catch up on, they bounced around Deming's local bars and pool halls, swapping stories from the time in the Army and everything else that had happened since they'd been separated.

It was during one of these nighttime outings that they bumped into Rick, an old high school friend of Dave's, and a fellow Navajo who worked at a local car dealership.

All three of them became fast friends, and Rick became a regular fixture on the two men's nightly excursions, the men bonding over beers and a few games of pool.

However, during one night of particularly heavy partying, Rick's typical upbeat demeanor was replaced by something more sullen and pensive.

It was as if he had something weighing heavily on his mind, though he wasn't sure how to go about expressing it.

After much prodding by Thomas and Dave, Rick nervously looked around the bar before quietly telling the two men to follow him outside.

The two soldiers, more than a little inebriated by now, eagerly followed, completely oblivious to the very bizarre turn that the evening was about to take.

Once outside and clearly wanting to be out of earshot of everyone else inside the bar, Rick looked at his two friends and presented them with an intriguing, albeit very unusual opportunity.

Somewhere out in the barren New Mexico desert that night, a meeting was going to take place.

A gathering of men Rick only referred to as

shapeshifters.

Sober enough to acknowledge that this was a rather strange thing to be talking about, Thomas said he remained silent, not entirely sure what to make of the whole interaction and Rick's bizarre proposal.

He sensed that Dave, however, was actually excited at the prospect of attending one of these ritualistic meetings.

He started talking in a low voice about how his relatives would speak of shapeshifting witches involved in various forms of black magic.

While clearly aware that the subject was taboo in Navajo culture, Dave, feeling much looser after a few drinks, couldn't help but to submit to his own curiosity regarding this darker side of his people's history.

With the collective enthusiasm of both Dave and Rick egging him on, Thomas soon agreed to join the men in attending this mysterious gathering, albeit still a bit apprehensive.

After all, while Rick and Dave were distinctly indigenous in their physical appearance, the same couldn't be said for Thomas.

At this, Rick laughed, assuring him that all the other men in attendance would likely be much drunker than they were.

That, combined with the cover of darkness and Thomas's quote-unquote dark enough features, Rick said it would be enough to pass Thomas off as one of their own.

So, all three of them agreed to go.

Shaking hands, Rick then got serious for a moment and made the two men solemnly swear to never reveal the details of what they were about to witness.

After Thomas and Dave agreed, they piled into Rick's truck and drove off into the barren expanse of the New Mexico desert.

You buy a pair of socks, that's two socks.

You buy a pair of bomba socks, that's four socks.

Because one purchased is one donated.

Socks are the number one most requested clothing item in homeless shelters.

So when you buy a pair of super comfortable Bombus socks, you're also donating a pair.

Bombus customers have powered over 150 million donations.

So Bombus would like to thank you 150 million times, but we only have like 30 seconds.

Go to bombus.com and use code audio for 20% off your first purchase.

That's B-O-M-B-A-S.com and use code audio at checkout.

Hey, it's Luke, the host of Wartime Stories.

As many of you know, Mr.

Balin and Balin Studios have been a huge help in bringing this podcast to life.

And if you'd like to believe you are something of a storytelling connoisseur, then you need to check out Mr.

Balin's podcast, Strange, Dark, and Mysterious.

Each week, Mr.

Balin weaves gripping tales of the strange, dark, and mysterious, diving into true crime, unsolved mysteries, and paranormal events that keep you on the edge of your seat.

Mr.

Balin's podcast, Strange, Dark, and Mysterious, is available on all podcast platforms, and it is free, just like ours.

There are hundreds of episodes available to binge right now with new episodes twice a week.

Go listen to the Mr.

Balin podcast today.

As Rick drove the men further out into the desert, the sun dropped below the horizon, the blackening sky then filling with stars.

For Thomas, the initial excitement he felt at the bar had somewhat dissipated.

He now felt anxious.

What exactly had the two men gotten themselves into?

What kind of weird setup was this?

Were they really heading to meet with a secretive league of shapeshifting Navajo witches?

That was almost certainly too outlandish to be true.

But if not, then who or what were they on their way to meet?

A bunch of strange men out in the desert, so deep in the bottle that they've convinced themselves of having magical abilities?

It didn't help that Rick himself had become eerily silent over the last few miles, his eyes now sullen and remaining locked on the road ahead which was bathed in the truck's headlights.

Thomas grabbed a bottle of whiskey Rick kept in the truck to stymie his growing sense of unease.

He took a few swigs, and it seemed to help.

After what must have been at least a 30-mile drive into the middle of nowhere, the paved road they were on gave way onto a dirt trail.

It didn't look very worn, like it was hardly ever driven on.

There was a dullish red glow in the distance, a bonfire.

Thomas knew it must be getting close.

Still a short distance away from the bonfire, Rick was flagged down by one of the secretive group's members holding a flashlight.

Rick then pulled his truck alongside several other vehicles in a sort of parking area.

After exiting their vehicle, Rick, Dave, and Thomas began walking towards the nearby bonfire before being approached by the same Navajo man with the flashlight.

Thomas couldn't help but notice that the man was armed, cradling a shotgun as he shined his light across their faces.

Recognizing Rick, he nodded and told the men to proceed towards the fire.

After a short walk, the trio arrived to find a sizable group of Navajo men surrounding a roaring bonfire, all of them drinking, talking, and laughing amongst themselves.

It wasn't entirely unlike anything the two soldiers had experienced during their own get-togethers, which put them a little more at ease in the unfamiliar environment.

That was until two other Navajo men, both of them carrying guns, approached Dave and Thomas and started asking them a series of questions.

Who were they?

How did they know Rick?

What were they doing there?

Thomas and Dave answered honestly, which seemed to satisfy the men, who then permitted them to take their spot around the fire after issuing one final warning.

If either of them was to disclose anything they were about to see to anyone that wasn't gathered around the flames, they would be met with a painful death.

Thomas and Dave stared at them in silence, waiting for the punchline, but despite the party-like atmosphere going on around them, the faces of these two Navajo men were deadly serious.

However many red flags they'd already seen, Thomas said this really just made both of them even more curious.

They agreed to the terms and went to join the others.

But nothing could have prepared them for what they then witnessed.

The heavy drinking I'd been doing had surely clouded my senses, but the ceremony seemed to be well regulated, as certain chants and words were spoken by the host and quickly repeated by those in attendance, so this must have been a regular occurrence.

Obviously, following a pre-planned regimen, Rick was called on by the moderator and he stepped into the center of the circle.

A sort of shawl made of what appeared to be animal skin sewn together into a cape-like garment was placed around his shoulders, and then he danced around the circle chanting words I couldn't understand.

Rick had explained that their tribe's traditional guardians of the spiritual world were witches called Ye Naldloshi which I have since researched to see that they are as much evil witches as they are protectors.

I found it hard to understand how the people who must attend these ceremonies can accept or understand all of the significance and mysticism contained within all the chants and dancing.

Right in the middle of a major part of chanting by all the participants, Rick threw some sort of powder into the large fire, which exploded into a huge cloud of smoke.

And suddenly there was a large seven-foot creature standing there that looked like a giant feather-covered praying mantis with a wolfish face.

And Rick had disappeared.

Both Dave and I looked at each other, jaws wide open, and in total bewilderment.

Neither of us could speak.

We sat for several minutes watching this creature wildly dancing to the sound of the drums being beaten rhythm by the attendees, and the scrawny beast came up close to each person around the circle.

Neither Dave nor I could see any remote resemblance between this scraggly being and our lost friend Rick.

Suddenly, we we were both again assaulted with a huge explosion of smoke that completely smothered every one of us, and when it dissipated, there was Rick, still dancing as though he had never left.

I never did understand the significance of Rick changing into this other creature or where he was, when it was there.

Rick hardly spoke on our drive back to town.

It was like he was completely exhausted.

And when I tried tried to ask him about how he changed into a creature that looked nothing like him, he just mumbled

later.

Dave and I exchanged looks that we both understood to mean we'd let it go for now.

The following day, their heads still spinning from the combination of all the drinking and bearing witness to literal supernatural events, Dave and Thomas found themselves,

well, there's no other word for it, dumbfounded.

It certainly didn't help that, try as they might, Rick was proving difficult to get a hold of that day.

They couldn't find him.

Sitting down at a local restaurant, the two men recounted the previous night's events, wondering if perhaps what they saw was merely the result of having too much to drink, some kind of shared hallucination, or maybe they had put something in our drinks kind of thing.

But as much as they tried to rationalize what they saw, they just couldn't make sense of it.

Thomas in particular said he found himself in the dark, being completely unfamiliar with these shape-shifting witches that the Navajo appeared to be well acquainted with.

At this, Dave fell quiet, making sure nobody was within earshot before responding to Thomas in a low, hushed voice.

What they had encountered last night, he said, was an entity known

as a Skinwalker.

According to Dave, the Skinwalker came to prominence within Navajo culture not long after the Spanish had made landfall in the Americas, pushing north into Mexico during the early 1500s.

In order to supplement their many labor efforts, bands of Spanish soldiers were dispatched into the deserts of what is now the southern United States.

Their goal was to raid various indigenous settlements, kidnapping their men, women, and children to serve as slaves within the expanding Spanish-controlled sectors of the Americas.

Dave explained that in order to defend the native peoples of the desert, namely the Navajo, the gods granted select witches and spiritual beings an incredible supernatural gift.

The ability to change from their human form into nearly any animal at home in their environment, such as birds, deer, coyotes, or wolves.

With their uncanny shapeshifting abilities, these witches would be able to infiltrate Spanish encampments and observe troop movements completely undetected.

After gathering information, the Skinwalkers would then return to their villages, giving their people plenty of advanced warning of coming attacks or slave raids.

A Skinwalker's role in defending the Navajo people wasn't limited to reconnaissance, however.

While in their animal form, the witches could attack and kill as they saw fit, tearing into their enemies with their claws and razor-sharp teeth like any other bloodthirsty predator.

Over the course of many years, the threat posed by the Spanish slavers began to wane, the Navajo people, at least for the time being, once again living in relative security.

However, the witches chosen to carry these shapeshifting abilities remained, and without an enemy to fight, they began to turn on the people who they were supposed to defend.

The Skinwalkers were now using their powers for selfish and nefarious reasons, deceiving and even murdering their fellow Navajo in pursuit of personal gain.

To even speak of the Skinwalker with those not of Navajo blood was highly discouraged.

for fear of spreading the witch's murderous influence beyond the reach of the desert.

And so, the once heroic figures in Navajo lore were now among its most feared and despised.

A band of killers mad with power and tainted by corruption.

And now, it was apparent to Thomas and Dave that their friend Rick

was one of them.

Hello.

Tom.

Tom is D.

Hey, what's going on, brother?

Oh, man.

I don't I don't know what to do, man.

Man, man.

Okay.

Hey, slow down.

Sol yeah, you okay?

No, this is this is bad.

What's going on, man?

It's it's Rick.

We found him?

It's Rick, man.

What about him?

He's dead, man.

What?

Rick is dead.

That's...

Alright, just...

Oh, no.

I'm coming over.

I'm coming over.

Whatever they might have gained from it, the two men had little time to properly investigate their brush with the Skinwalkers.

Their upcoming treatment schedule for their damaged lungs would see them occupied for the better part of the next two weeks, leaving them with little time for anything else.

But this wouldn't be the end of their bizarre story.

About a week before their experimental treatment was scheduled to end, Thomas got a call from Dave, who sounded frantic.

It was about Rick.

After several days of attempting to get a hold of Rick, Thomas and Dave finally found out where he was.

His badly mangled body had been found in a shallow roadside ditch.

about four miles outside of town.

Based on the state of his damaged corpse, it seemed that Rick had been struck by an oncoming vehicle, a hit-and-run accident.

However, as Dave continued to lay out the details surrounding Rick's death, Thomas began to notice that there was something off about his death.

The stretch of road where Rick was found was frequently traveled by motorists and law enforcement patrols.

If anyone had been struck by an oncoming vehicle, then it certainly would have been reported by passing motorists, even if the guilty party fled the scene.

However, However, nothing about a man being struck by a car had been reported in the days leading up to the discovery of Rick's body.

What was reported and verified by two other motorists was a deer being struck and killed by a passing car.

Responding to the scene of the incident, a patrolman was able to locate the body of the deer, dragging it off the road and then rolling it into the ravine that ran alongside it.

It was two days after this report was made that Rick's body would be found, in approximately the same location that the policeman reportedly disposed of the deer's remains.

Strange as it was, Thomas couldn't help but wonder if that deer was actually Rick, his body somehow changing back after he died in animal form.

Despite Thomas's insistence, Dave had had enough and flatly refused to dig any deeper into the incident.

If Dave wasn't previously convinced about the supernatural powers of these beings, he certainly was now, and under the Navajo Code, he didn't want to draw their attention by discussing the matter.

Thomas thought about it and likewise agreed to drop it and leave the subject alone.

By the time Thomas wrote his letter, in the 30 years since their encounter with the Skinwalker, Dave had passed away.

Despite knowing it was taboo and that he had sworn not to mention it, Thomas said that after all that time, he just felt that he had to share the experience with somebody.

Regardless of what we think about the existence of such creatures, until this very day, the Navajo people do continue to live their lives in fear of these evil beings.

In Thomas's story,

he wouldn't be the first person, let alone the only soldier, to report seeing something strange and unexplained in the deserts of New Mexico.

Wartime Stories is created and hosted by me, Luke Lamana.

Executive produced by Mr.

Bollin, Nick Witters, and Zach Levitt.

Written by Jake Howard and myself.

Audio editing and sound design by me, Cole Lacascio, and Whitlacascio.

Additional editing by Davin Intag and Jordan Stidham.

Research by me, Jake Howard, Evan Beamer, and Camille Callahan.

Mixed and mastered by Brendan Kane.

Production supervision by Jeremy Bone.

Production coordination by Avery Siegel.

Additional production support by Brooke Lynn Gooden.

Artwork by Jessica Cloxon-Kiner, Robin Vane, and Picada.

If you'd like to get in touch or share your own story, you can email me at info at wartimestories.com.

Thank you so much for listening to Wartime Stories.