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thedrifter
09-29-02, 10:27 AM
One of the ironies in the history of the American POWs in Vietnam is that their lives were improved dramatically by a failed rescue mission. On November 20, 1970, a small group of Air Force and Special Forces volunteers dropped into the Son Tay prison, located just 23 miles from Hanoi. It took only minutes before the commandos killed the 200 soldiers in the towers, broke into cells, and escaped in waiting helicopters. The raid would have been hailed back in Washington if not for one major problem: all the American prisoners in Son Tay had been evacuated from the camp four months previously. In fact, prisoners transferred to nearby Dan Hoi listened to U.S. fighter planes screaming overhead and watched explosive flashes light up the sky the night of the raid.

The mission was a political disaster in Washington, but the failure actually improved the lives of American POWs. The North Vietnamese, shocked by the near-success of the attempt, moved all of the POWs from less secure outlying areas and concentrated them in Hanoi. Prisoners were rounded up in the "Hanoi Hilton," the facility in which American prisoners had first experienced captivity. Conditions were as bad as returned soldiers had remembered them. Said U.S. Commander Howard Rutledge: "The place was as bleak and cold and filthy as ever. . . . It was like a bad dream."

What did change, however, was that the men, more concentrated and numerous than ever, were no longer isolated. The prisoners were housed in groups of 20 to 50 in large, open rooms. "Being in that room with forty other roommates was just the most wonderful medicine that anybody could ever give you," said Major George Day. Instead of having to tap on walls to make contact, the POWs congregated in rooms and courtyards, talking and organizing as they had been unable to do previously. Two men -- Rutledge and Commander Harry Jenkins -- who had only known each other through tapping during four years of imprisonment, came face to face. "That was something else," Rutledge said, remembering the first time the two shook hands. "We knew each other intimately through our covert communication efforts." The men played card games, exercised together and even organized a toastmaster. Soldiers taught each other whatever they knew, including French, Spanish, history, real estate, and dairy farming.

Information spread through the camp to prisoners who had gone for years without hearing any news of the outside world. Soldiers published abbreviated daily editions of any news the prisoners received. The "Vegas Gambler" was a newspaper printed on strips of toilet paper. It announced the Six Day War in the Middle East and the landing of men on the moon ("U.S. made jump like cow," read the news.) The "newspaper" was delivered from cell to cell. Said Lieutenant Commander Richard Stratton: "As strange as it sounds, it was a quality life."


POW Prisons in North Vietnam

Many prisons used to hold American POWs were in close proximity to Hanoi, with a few of the more well known jails located directly in Hanoi. American prisoners spent years living in these uninhabitable cells enduring the pain and suffering oftentimes inflicted upon them by the Vietnamese guards. With the end of the war and the release of the POWs, many decided to tell their stories about life as a prisoner in Vietnam.

Alcatraz (Ministry of National Defense)
Perhaps the worst of the North's prisons, this facility was built to house POWs the North Vietnamese wanted to isolate. The prison was as close to a dungeon as any prison in the North. The tiny cells were sunk underground with the only ventilation coming from pencil-sized holes above each door and recessed space below them.

Zoo
Opened in September 1965 just southwest of Hanoi, the Zoo had all the windows in the cells bricked up shortly after opening. The rooms were padlocked but had a slight give that allowed prisoners to peek out. This feature also allowed guards, or livestock at the prison, to look in, a feature that earned the prison the name "Zoo."

Dirty Bird (Power Plant)
This Hanoi prison opened in October 1967 in the vicinity of the Yen Phu thermal power plant in northern Hanoi. The North Vietnamese publicized the location of the prisoners, in what many believe was an attempt to discourage U.S. bombing of the plant and the area. Prisoners called the place "dirty bird" in honor of the camp's black dust, debris and general filthiness.

Plantation (Citadel)
Hanoi's Citadel, the North Vietnamese "showcase" prison, had once been the home of the colonial mayor of the city. Part of the facility was converted to a village of clean cells, garden patches, and scrubbed corridors where captives were photographed and shown to delegations to convince visitors that the North Vietnamese treated prisoners humanely.

Hanoi Hilton (Hoa Lo)
American POWs gave Hoa Lo, perhaps the best known of all the North's prison camps, the ironic tag of "Hanoi Hilton." The French occupiers of Vietnam had built it at the turn of the century. Speaking about the prison's rusted shackles and ever-present rats, Lt. Ronald Bliss reflected: "You could look at this place and . . . just hear the screams of about fifty years, because it was -- it is -- a hard place." Some of the most brutal torture of Americans took place here in specially equipped rooms.

Briarpatch (Xom Ap Lo)
Located about 35 miles west of Hanoi, this prison was opened in the late summer of 1965 to accommodate the overcrowding at Hoa Lo ("Hanoi Hilton"). The prison had no running water or electricity and the diet was so severe that prisoners kept here for long periods inevitably suffered from malnutrition.

Camp Hope (Son Tay)
Located 20 miles northwest of Hanoi, this prison opened in May 1968 to alleviate overcrowding in Hanoi's jails. American prisoners were also removed from Hoa Lo to undermine POW camaraderie there. The camp was filthy and the cells had little ventilation. Rats ran rampant. Yet, many occupants here were spared the more brutal torture routine at other camps.

Portholes (Bao Cao)
Located along the southern coast of North Vietnam, "Portholes" was typified by tiny cells that looked like chicken coops. Most were three feet wide, six feet high and six feet long. The cells were bare except for wooden leg stocks, restraints used to punish uncooperative POWs.

Faith (Dan Hoi)
The Dan Hoi prison, just northwest of Hanoi, was actually six compounds in one that imprisoned 220 prisoners at its peak. Treatment here was generally more humane than at the other POW camps. Many of the prisoners transferred from other facilities found the freedom to congregate, permitted at Faith, exhilarating.

Farnsworth (Duong Ke)
This facility opened south of Hanoi in the summer of 1968. Farnsworth guards' treatment of officers in the U.S. armed forces was especially brutal. American officers were kept in small, windowless rooms painted black and were seldom allowed outside. The North Vietnamese treated the enlisted men better, keeping them in larger groups and giving them regular exercise and recreation after 1970.

Skid Row (Ban Liet)
Prisoners named this prison, located a few miles south of Hanoi, after its filth and poor condition. After 1971 the prison became a place of banishment for POWs who did not cooperate at Hoa Lo prison.

Dogpatch (Loung Lang)
Located in the northwest corner of North Vietnam, Dogpatch was colder, damper and darker than Hoa Lo. Its cells had small slits for windows, thick walls and ceilings, and were crammed with up to 20 prisoners. One prisoner there recalled that the camp had "about all the qualities of a dungeon except that it was not underground."

Mountain Camp (K-49)
The name given this camp reflected its location in rugged mountain terrain just north of Hanoi. Although prisoners were isolated from one another, the basic conditions were better than in many other camps. Each room had a table, stool and toilet and, a rarity in almost all the POW camps, a straw mattress bed.


Rockpile (Noi Coc)
Despite its grim name, this prison, located 30 miles south of Hanoi, was comfortable compared to other facilities. The sleeping quarters were larger than most, and prisoners were given a dining room, a separate latrine and even a bathing area. Prisoners were allowed to move around the camp and mingle, a freedom almost never granted elsewhere.

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thedrifter
09-29-02, 10:36 AM
Mike McGrath spent five years and nine months as a prisoner of war in Vietnam. He was captured after a failed reconnaissance mission sent his aircraft to the ground. His captors transported him to the Hanoi Hilton where he endured a life of isolation, torture and misery. The beatings were frequent and the living conditions deplorable. As the war came to an end, Mike and other prisoners who survived were released. The images etched in Mike McGrath’s memory from his time spent in Hanoi were put to paper and published in the book Prisoner of War: Six Years in Hanoi. The following drawings and excerpts are from that book.

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On June 30, 1967, I took off from the deck of the aircraft carrier U.S.S. Constellation, CVA-64, on my 178th mission, an armed reconnaissance mission over North Vietnam. After bombing a small pontoon bridge, I picked out a second target. "Busy Bee rolling in," I said, as my wingman circled to watch my run. Suddenly there was a muffled explosion. My controls went slack as my A4-C Skyhawk began to roll uncontrollably. I could see the earth rising to meet me. Instinctively I pulled my ejection handle. The quick decision saved my life, but almost immediately after I landed on the ground, Vietnamese farmers and local militia jumped on me. One man held a rusty knife to my throat, while the others savagely ripped and cut away my clothing. It seemed as though they had never seen a zipper; they cut the zippers away instead of using them to remove my flight clothing. One man, in his haste to rip off my boots, managed to hyper-extend my left knee six times. Every time I screamed in pain, the rusty knife would be jabbed harder into my throat.

Within ten hours of my capture, I was en route to Hanoi. At a pontoon bridge, I was taken out of a truck and jammed into a narrow ditch. The soldiers who were guarding the bridge took turns to see who could hit my face the hardest. After the contest, they tried to force dog dung through my teeth, bounced rocks off my chest, jabbed me with their gun barrels, and bounced the back of my head off the rocks that lay in the bottom of the ditch.

I said my final prayers that night, because I was sure I would not reach Hanoi alive

Immediately after my arrival in Hanoi, I was taken to the New Guy Village, a section of the Hanoi Hilton, where new arrivals were tortured and interrogated. I was denied medical treatment because I would not give any information other than my name, rank, serial number and date of birth - the only information required by international law.

I was delirious with pain. I was suffering from a badly dislocated and fractured left arm, two fractured vertebrae and a fractured left knee. The Vietnamese dislocated both my right shoulder and right elbow in the manner shown in the drawing.

I wished I could die! When the Vietnamese threatened to shoot me, I begged them to do it, Their answer was, "No, you are a criminal. You haven't suffered enough."

I begged the Vietnamese to set my broken arm and relocate my dislocated shoulder. My requests were ignored. I then begged them to let another American come into my room to help me relocate my shoulder. I received answers such as "You have bad attitude. You are black criminal and you deserve to suffer."

I thought the pain would drive me insane. I made a desperate attempt to relocate my shoulder myself by placing my cup under my armpit, and then throwing myself against the wall. I failed.

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Countless hours were spent in this position as we "cleared the hallway" for guards. Each man gladly took his share of clearing, because the consequences of getting caught while communicating could result in torture and months of a miserable existence in irons or "cuffs."

All the POWs became "peekers" as we followed the daily activities around camp. Everything from the movement and interrogation of prisoners to the obscene acts committed by the guards with animals, was noted. The news was quickly passed from room to room in the tap code.

Communications were the lifelines of our covert camp organization. It was essential for everyone to know what was happening in camp, whether the news was about a new torture or just a friendly word of encouragement to a disheartened fellow POW.

The primary means of communication was by use of the "tap" code. The code was a simple arrangement of the alphabet into a 5 x 5 block. It was derived through one man's code knowledge gained from Air Force survival school.

The Vietnamese were able to extract, by torture, every detail of the code. They separated us and built multiple screens of bamboo and tarpaper between each room, but they never succeeded in completely stopping us from communicating.

Some men were tied to their beds, sometimes for weeks at a time. Here, I have drawn a picture showing the handcuffs being worn in front, but the usual position was with the wrists handcuffed behind the back. A man would live this way day and night , without sleep or rest. He could not lie down because his weight would cinch the already tightened cuffs even tighter, nor could he turn sideways.

The cuffs were taken off twice a day for meals. If the cuffs had been too tight, the fingers would be swollen and of little use in picking up a spoon or a cup.

Hopefully, a man could perform his bodily functions while the cuffs were momentarily removed at mealtimes. If not, he lived in his own mess

Many men were handcuffed or tied to a stool as a means of slow torture. The POW sat in one position, day and night. Each time he would fall over, the guards would sit him upright. He was not allowed to sleep or rest.

Exhaustion and pain take their toll. When the POW agreed to cooperate with his captors and acquiesced to their demands, he would be removed. Here, I have pictured a guard named "Mouse," who liked to throw buckets of cold water on a man on cold winter nights.

Some men, in heroic efforts to resist the "V," remained seated for 15 to 20 days. One man made a super-human effort to resist. He lasted 33 days on the stool before giving in.

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Here, I tried to depict the "Vietnamese rope trick." The arms are repeatedly cinched up until the elbows are forced together. Sometimes at this point the "hell cuffs" are applied. The "hell cuffs" are handcuffs which are put on the upper arms and pinched as tightly as possible onto the arms, cutting off the circulation. The resulting pain is extreme. If the prisoner has not broken down by this time, his arms are rotated until shoulders dislocate. Words could never adequately describe the pain, or the thoughts that go through a man's mind at a time like this.

Our normal diet consisted of either rice or bread and a bowl of soup. The soup was usually made from a boiled seasonal vegetable such as cabbage, kohlrabi, pumpkin, turnips, or greens, which we very appropriately called, "sewer greens, swamp grass and weeds." The flavor was very bland because no spices were used. I remember one very bad food period when we had two daily bowls of boiled cabbage soup for four straight months. Occasionally we would find a small chunk of meatless bacon fat in the soup.

Bland side-dishes of cooked vegetables or fish appeared with more regularity during the last two years.

I lost fifty pounds in the first three months of my captivity. Many others lost considerably more. It was not unusual for a man who was over six feet tall to weigh as little as 120 pounds.

Until 1970, exercising was prohibited. Every attempt was made by the "V" to keep us weak and demoralized. Despite the fact that we did not have adequate vitamins, protein or minerals, and the fact that we always felt tired and hungry, most men ignored the camp regulations and continued a daily exercise program. Many men give their strenuous exercise program as the reason for their good health. Sickness, such as hepatitis, could strike at any time, and it paid to be in best physical condition possible to cope with disease.

was set free on 4 March 1973, and immediately flown to Clark Air Force base in the Philippines. Hot showers, steaks, peanut-butter sandwiches and thousands of smiling faces were on hand to welcome me back.

On 7 March 1973, I returned to San Diego, California, where I was greeted by my wife, Marlene, and our two sons, John Jr. and Richard. In the drawing I tried to express all the joy and happiness my heart felt in that reunion. The years of waiting for this moment were suddenly forgotten. Then I realized how great it was just to be alive, to be wanted and loved, and most of all, to be an American.

As so many of my friends and comrades said, as they stepped from the giant Air Force C-141s to the land of the free, "God Bless America!"

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thedrifter
09-29-02, 10:38 AM
One of the most important parts of a POW's life was communicating with his fellow captives. The first communication between isolated prisoners of war may have been a name scrawled on a piece of toilet paper with the burnt end of a matchstick. Notes and whispers were attempted, but both were often detected and severely punished.

In June 1965, four POWs -- Captain Carlyle ("Smitty") Harris, Lieutenant Phillip Butler, Lieutenant Robert Peel and Lieutenant Commander Robert Shumaker -- who were imprisoned in the same cell in Hoa Lo devised a simple, secretive code. The four men, expecting to be split up again, vowed to continue their resistance. To do so, they knew communicating closely would be essential.

Harris remembered an Air Force instructor who had shown him a secret code based on a five-by-five alphabet matrix. Each letter was communicated by tapping two numbers: the first designated the horizontal row and the second designated the vertical row. The letter W, for example, would be 5-2; the letter H would be 2-3. The letter x was used to break up sentences and the letter "c" replaced the letter "k." (One of the famous, yet inelegant, usages of the letter "c" for "k" was in the transmission "Joan Baez Succs," which POWs sent around the camp after the American anti-war activist's songs were played over the camp's public address system.) Here is the way the alphabet code was set up:


The guards separated the four prisoners after one was caught passing a note, and thus inadvertently spread the code, as the separated men taught it to others. By August 1965, most of the prisoners had been initiated, and were passing messages by tapping on the walls to fellow prisoners. "The building sounded like a den of runaway woodpeckers," recalled POW Ron Bliss.

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POW Vice Admiral James Stockdale, recalling the code in the book he wrote with his wife Sybil, In Love and War, recalls sending the code: "Our tapping ceased to be just an exchange of letters and words; it became conversation. Elation, sadness, humor, sarcasm, excitement, depression -- all came through."

Stockdale also talks of the pleasures of coming up with abbreviations, a necessity imposed by the time constraints on both the message giver and receiver. "Passing on abbreviations like conundrums got to be a kind of game," remembered Stockdale. "What would ST mean right after GN? 'Sleep tight,' of course. And DLTBBB? I laughed to think what our friends back home would think of us two old fighter pilots [Stockdale refers to Air Force Major Samuel Johnson, in an adjoining cell] standing at a wall, checking for shadows under the door, pecking out a final message for the day with our fingernails: 'Don't let the bedbugs bite.'"

Some of the acronyms entered POW popular usage. One acronym, GBU, was used as a universal sign-off. It was shorthand for "God Bless You."


Sempers,

Roger