Surviving Hell: A POW’s Journey Through Vietnam Captivity

Listening to the stories of Vietnam veterans offers a profound glimpse into courage, sacrifice, and resilience. Episode 71 of “Military Tales” provides just such an account, drawn from the harrowing experiences of a US Air Force helicopter crew chief shot down and held captive for over seven years in North Vietnam. His narrative, shared with a group of listeners, weaves together personal anecdotes, historical context, and powerful reflections on faith, leadership, and the meaning of service.

The speaker grew up in a small cotton town in eastern North Carolina, just south of the Virginia border. His early understanding of military service was shaped by a memorial wall in the local cotton mill, displaying names of community members who served, with an American flag behind them. His grandfather explained that these were the people who answered the call when the country was attacked in World War II, saying, “Take me, I want to defend America”. This early exposure, including seeing his father’s and uncle’s names on the wall and later learning about a friend’s hidden Purple Heart, instilled a sense of duty and honor.

His military journey began with basic training at Lackland Air Force Base, followed by helicopter maintenance school at Shepard Air Force Base. The assignment process, involving a “dream sheet,” proved unpredictable, leading him from hopes of Alaska to Altus, Oklahoma, and eventually to Korea. Before his first overseas tour as a 19-year-old, a staff sergeant gave him a crucial briefing: he represented himself, his family, the Air Force, and most importantly, the United States of America, and should act accordingly.

Service in the early 1960s put him alongside World War II and Korean War veterans. He witnessed historical events unfold, including the Bay of Pigs failure, which he attributes to communication breakdowns between military branches, and the Cuban Missile Crisis, where he saw the military “had our act together”. He reflects on President Kennedy’s leadership in taking full responsibility for the Bay of Pigs, defining it as essential leadership.

His path eventually led to Southeast Asia, a destination initially shrouded in secrecy, referred to cryptically as “crop dusting”. Arriving in Bangkok, Thailand, from a cold Grand Forks, North Dakota, in winter blues was a shock. Tasked with establishing a rescue group, they faced the challenge of insufficient or inadequate equipment, highlighting the common military reality of having responsibility without the necessary tools. They adapted a non-combat airplane for rescue missions, adding basic armor. Resourcefulness was key; NCOs developed the first in-flight helicopter refueling using simple materials like 55-gallon barrels and garden hoses, essential for extending their range. The speaker even humorously notes getting credit for two “bombing runs” with a fuel barrel.

On September 20, 1965, his mission took a drastic turn. While on a rescue operation over North Vietnam, they were shot down. Rules of engagement were complex, requiring White House approval for actions, even waiting on the ground after a pilot was down to verify his identity and nationality. Despite A1E escorts, complications arose, and after the escorts were ordered to dump ordnance due to unauthorized exposure, their helicopter was hit. Positioned on the side of a hill, they were shot at downwards, which he believes saved their lives, as critical components above them absorbed the hits. After the fuel control was hit, the helicopter sputtered and crashed through bamboo, which proved too strong for the rotor blades.

The aftermath of the crash was chaotic. Despite limited equipment – four people sharing one radio and one flare gun – their priority was their “brothers in harm’s way”. They found a hiding spot but were eventually discovered. Facing overwhelming odds against “150 people with everything from machetes to machine guns,” they chose to surrender rather than be killed pointlessly.

Taken captive, they were initially paraded through local hamlets, treated as “prize trophies”. The villagers, many of whom had never seen Americans, were at first curious, even concerned about their health. This changed abruptly with the arrival of a blowhorn, inciting aggression from the crowd, turning the prisoners into targets. Guards had to protect them, often getting hit themselves.

A particularly harrowing experience involved being taken blindfolded from a makeshift cell, feet and hands tied, to a freshly dug grave. Believing his life was over, thoughts raced about whether his remains would ever return home. The situation changed suddenly, and he was returned to his cell. This near-death experience instilled a strong belief that he was meant to survive for a purpose, a “miracle” that gave him hope.

Transported north to Hanoi, the journey included being displayed publicly again, surviving a machine-gun attack on their truck (thankful for poor marksmanship), and a tense, blindfolded river crossing by boat. They arrived near the notorious “Hanoi Hilton,” seen through 25-foot walls topped with glass and concertina wire. Upon entering the prison, he was separated from his pilot and the rescued airman, not seeing them again for seven years. His co-pilot, separated during the shootdown, was captured later in Laos, spent two years in captivity, escaped, but was tragically killed while seeking food.

His first cell in “new guy village” was tiny, about six by seven feet, with a narrow bed and a bucket. The few possessions received – pajamas, soap, toothpaste, a towel, mosquito net, blanket, and metal cup – became his “worldly possessions for the next eight Thanksgivings, eight Christmases and eight New Year’s”.

Communication was vital for survival. Upon arrival, Colonel Robinson Risner, the senior ranking POW, identified himself through the wall via taps and delivered crucial messages, including the importance of returning home with honor and the need to learn the tap code. This simple code, based on a matrix of the alphabet (excluding K), involved tapping to indicate the row and position of a letter. It was tedious but effective and, despite years of effort, the Vietnamese were never able to fully break it, partly due to the prisoners’ deliberate use of shorthand and incomplete sentences during tapping. Maintaining a list of who was in captivity was a primary goal from day one to ensure a full accounting.

The food was meager, described as “oriental style” – a bowl of rice for breakfast, water for lunch, and “swell up for supper”. They ate mainly the “vegetable of the season,” which often meant different varieties of grass. Meat was rare, perhaps a tiny piece the size of a pinky finger. The only deviations were two special meals a year for Christmas and New Year’s, which might include a slightly larger piece of meat, something sweet, and, most importantly, a cup of coffee. Even in a communist country, they were allowed small gestures like bringing Bibles for a day.

Psychological challenges were immense. Hearing new shootdowns offered moments of hope, as reports of the war being short were passed along. A major blow came in early 1966 when Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara declared POWs “expendable,” a statement that devastated families back home and, in the warped prison humor, was initially dismissed by the small group of prisoners but had serious implications. This declaration contributed to POWs being relegated to the back pages of newspapers or disappearing entirely.

Many prisoners endured solitary confinement in areas known as the “Briarpatch” or “Zoo,” sometimes for years. They were often “hog tied” for safety, according to the Vietnamese. The Vietnamese also used propaganda, such as the “Hanoi March,” parading handcuffed POWs through the streets, which backfired and drew international condemnation.

Torture was employed to extract apologies or statements supporting the “peaceloving Americans” over the “war mongering Johnson administration”. Refusal led to severe beatings. The US Code of Conduct was informally modified, urging prisoners to resist torture but know when to yield to avoid permanent injury or revealing critical information, essentially managing what they gave up.

To counter forced confessions, prisoners used fictitious names like Clark Kent or Roy Rogers. Tragically, one American journalist exposed the use of “Clark Kent” by Neil Tanner in a statement, leading to Tanner being held in leg irons for 22 months, only let out for 15 minutes a day. The speaker reflects bitterly on the journalist prioritizing a potential Pulitzer Prize over protecting an American soldier.

While acknowledging the suffering in North Vietnam prisons, the speaker notes the lack of accounting for losses in South Vietnam, where many were likely killed on the spot or executed after capture.

He emphasizes that the true heroes were often the families back home, especially the wives who maintained strength for their children, keeping hope alive despite the uncertainty. He credits his own family, particularly his sisters and parents, for keeping his memory alive for their children and for his parents keeping a light burning for over eight years awaiting his return. Limited communication, often through heavily censored letters or rare packages, made their struggle immense. Learning about outside events like the moon landing in 1969 came through hidden messages or clues in packages, like a sugar packet with American history. The prisoners famously saluted the moon when they learned an American flag was there.

Their ability to persevere was underpinned by four key elements of faith: faith in themselves, faith in each other, faith in their country, and most importantly, faith in God.

Morale improved significantly after President Nixon took office. Nixon met with POW families, assuring them he would prioritize their return, gaining respect lost by the previous administration. A pivotal event was the Son Tay raid in November 1970. Although no prisoners were found at the target camp, the raid’s flawless execution by handpicked volunteers demonstrated American capability and commitment. Crucially, it prompted the North Vietnamese to consolidate prisoners into major camps like the Hanoi Hilton, inadvertently ending solitary confinement for many and changing their status from “expendable” to “high value”.

Within the prison, prisoners achieved their first major victory when, faced with the Vietnamese attempting to place a non-ranking prisoner in charge of a group, the senior ranking officer stood up, followed by others down the line, asserting military leadership structures.

A powerful symbol of their defiance and spirit was the creation of an American flag by a prisoner named Mike. Using scraps of cloth, thread from a blanket, and colors made from cigarette ashes and clay, Mike painstakingly stitched the first flag flown in North Vietnam. Senator McCain, in a nearby room, witnessed the moment prisoners, many battle-hardened but in their 30s, unfurled the flag and recited the Pledge of Allegiance. The flag was hidden daily but displayed at night. When discovered by the Vietnamese, Mike claimed responsibility and was severely beaten, nearly to death. Yet, upon recovery, his spirit unbroken, he announced, “Time for flag number two. You never give up, you never give in, you roll with the punches, you bounce back, you get ready for the next round”.

President Nixon’s strategy involved rebuilding the South Vietnamese army while gradually withdrawing US troops. By December 1972, the US mission was largely accomplished, except for the POWs. Refusing to leave them behind, Nixon ordered the Linebacker II bombing campaign. Over 11 days (with a Christmas break), more bombs were dropped than ever before, not to advance the war but to force negotiations for the prisoners’ release. This brought the Vietnamese back to the table, leading to the Paris Peace Accords.

On January 26, 1973, the war’s end and the upcoming release were announced. The release began on February 12, 1973. The speaker describes the agonizing wait for all his brothers to come home, which concluded on March 29, 1973. Returning home involved media attention (though he refused interviews until all were released), medical evaluation, and parades (which he attributes to the audience/community). He contrasts this with the alleged poor treatment some returning veterans received, highlighting the pain of seeing those who served being told to remove their uniforms not to offend anyone.

Reflecting on his life, the speaker calls it the saddest moment when the nation failed to adequately thank those who served. He points out the significant human cost, including over 300,000 permanently injured, limbs lost, missing personnel, and children who grew up without fathers. He starkly notes that only one out of five aircrew members shot down over Southeast Asia survived, making him “one of the luckiest men in Hawaii”.

He laments the societal failure post-Vietnam to distinguish between the “war” and the “warrior”. Citing media figures like Walter Cronkite who portrayed American actions negatively, the speaker argues that the war’s unpopularity was projected onto the soldiers. Lessons from later conflicts, like Desert Storm, showed a renewed commitment to supporting the warrior regardless of feelings about the conflict itself. The responsibility of every generation, he stresses, is to ensure that one generation of veterans is “never, never abandoned by another”.

He closes with the words of a friend who, after captivity, felt immensely fortunate to be an American. Despite its imperfections, the friend believed the US system excelled all others and its principles were honorable. The speaker echoes this conviction, expressing faith in young people today who continue to step forward to defend freedom. He shares a quote: “Only two defining forces ever offered to die for you. Jesus Christ and the American soldier… One for your soul and the other for your freedom”. He concludes by blessing “the defenders of the dream”.

This powerful testimony from Episode 71 is a testament to the extraordinary physical and psychological challenges faced by Vietnam POWs, their incredible resilience, and the enduring impact of their sacrifice on themselves, their families, and the nation.