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Although harsh treatment of POWs is commonplace in wartime, the American POWs in Korea encountered a unprecedented and daunting experience. In addition to brutal torture, POWs were now being coerced into actions impugning the US and breaking faith with fellow POW’s. Examples including signing statements critical of the US prosecution of the war or accepting special privleges. A notorious example was a document alleging the US was using bacteriological warfare, which several POW's were coerced --"brainwashed"--into signing.
Following a study, two significant changes were made: implementation of a code of conduct for US POW’s, and training in POW behavior as well. The US military Code of Conduct is shown nearby. Key elements are the need to maintain cohesion by keeping faith with fellow POW’s, and refraining
from discolosing Information harmful to the US or fellow prisoners. Events would show this training would be direly needed in North Vietnamese POW camps: U.S. prisoners of war in North Vietnam were subjected to extreme torture and malnutrition during their captivity. Although North Vietnam was a signatory of the Third Geneva Convention of 1949, which demanded "decent and humane treatment" of prisoners of war, severe torture methods were employed, such as rope bindings, irons, beatings, and prolonged solitary confinement. The aim of the torture was usually not acquiring military information. Rather, it was to break the will of the prisoners, both individually and as a group. The goal of the North Vietnamese was to get written or recorded statements from the prisoners that criticized U.S. conduct of the war and praised how the North Vietnamese treated them. Such POW statements would be viewed as a propaganda victory in the battle to sway world and U.S. domestic opinion against the U.S. war effort. Wikipedia US POWs during Vietnam
The principal tool used to prepare US Navy aviators for this ordeal was SERE School: Survival, Evasion, Resistance, and Escape:
Survival- Living in the remote environment. Using the limited tools we had as part of our survival gear to provide food, water, and shelter. Supplemental local-specific survival training was provided elsewhere, such as the Navy’s Water Survival Course, and the Jungle Environment Survival Training, held in the Philipines during Vietnam war.
Evasion- How to avoid getting caught by the bad guys. This part of the course was interesting but didn’t get applied in practice. As it happened, virtually all our flying was into the heavily populated Hanoi-Haiphong region, so you were sure to be captured as soon as you hit the ground. I still carried my sidearm, a S&W .38 revolver, loaded alternatively with ball and tracer ammo and an empty chamber under the hammer. Many didn’t carry; some “concealed carried.” My roommate, Rich Oneto (now sadly passed) carried a .22 caliber pistol in his cigarette pocket (left shoulder) of his flight suit. He claimed he was going to use this to “self-terminate” rather than face long term brutal imprisonment. I jokeingly maintained that this little pistol was not likely to penetrate the combination of helmet and skull, which I maintained was preternaturally thick. Still, there is one case in which such a hidden little gun proved the means for a truly heroic escape: Frank Prendergast, (an RA-5C RAN) for which he received the Navy Cross, in which the citation UNDERSTATES the courage of his escape. See the first link for the full story.
Resistance- the heart of the course- how to keep from breaking faith with fellow POWs and maintaining unit cohesion while a prisoner
Escape- While there were a few escapes from jungle prison, no one ever escaped by a NVA camp and it was folly to even consider it. Perhaps the key lesson was to have an escape mentality.
SERE School was located at NAS Bruswick, ME and at a remote site in the Maine woods. The School lasted only a week, but for many of us it seemed interminable.
My experience with SERE School was in December of 1966. Six of us (3 pilots, 3 NFO’s) left Sanford , FL in a C-47 for the long, slow trip to Brunswick. Check in was routine except as junior officer I had to do some grunt paperwork for the entire class. Most of my classmates were from P-3 squadrons, which dominated numbers with their 13 man crews .
Monday, Day 1: Classroom
Monday, Day 1: Classroom
First day (and evening) was classroom training on survival techniques as well as potential enemy coersion approaches. This was generally not done with lectures, but usually with demonstrations and hands-on activity. One instructor was showing us how to skin a rabbit. Unfortunately, the rabbit wasn’t completely dead. It regained consciousness and let out a surprisingly wild shriek. The instructor killed it with a chop to the neck, a little embarrassed perhaps.
Tuesday, Day 2: Survival
Tuesday, Day 2: Survival
Next day we loaded up buses for the several hour trip to the training area. We were never told exactly where it was, but it was certainly remote and the temperature was 5 deg F. We began a march of several hours to a roughly prepared campground. The balance of the day was spent in practicing survival techniques. We learned how to make knapsacks out of parachute nylon, animal snares, the art of smoking meat, and generally keeping warm. We slept in prepared parateppees that were surprisingly comfortable. I would be pretty much the last sleep I would get.
Wednesday, Day 3: Survival/Evasion
Wednesday, Day 3: Survival/Evasion
We left the prepared camp early on the third day, beginning the evasion part of the course. We were required to cover a lot of ground while being pursed by troops of the “Democratic Republic.” I knew this, having come across a matchbook so named, along with the slogan “Every man a friend.” Kept the matchbook as a souvenir for quite a time.
As twilight approached we were directed to bed down individually. We had been taught how to prepare a foxhole type nest. We had double mummy bags, but the crucial factor was providing a good ground insulating layer. There were intermittent indications of “enemy” acitivity. This mostly gunfire and loudspeaker harangues to surrender. One was directed to shout “Lucky Strike” (a popular cigarette of the day) if we wished to turn ourselves in. What do you know, a number of “Lucky strike” cries could be heard right after!
We had been told that the enemy/instructors would be making a sweep through the area to check our preparations. I had prepared my bed on a bunch of leaves, thinking this would be as good as the pine boughs we had used in the prepared site. It wasn’t. I heard the sweep begin. I decided the best approach would be to vacate the foxhole and hide out in the woods until they left. Good plan but it was compromised when they took my sleeping bags out with them!
I was facing a subzero night without any sleeping arrangements. Not relishing a night walking around (or sharing a sleeping bag) I knocked on the instructor’s cabin door. They were not amused, but the dressing down was fairly routine. Not doubt they understood my poorly prepared site would be punishment enough. This proved to be the case. Not having the time or light to prepare the insulating layer of pine boughs, the night was extremely cold.
Thursday, Day 4: Evasion/Resistance
Thursday, Day 4: Evasion/Resistance
Evasion commenced with a vengeance the next day. Our goal was a shack 5-8 miles away in the mountainous terrain. “Enemy” patrols were active throughout the day. We were formed in small groups. In mine was LTJG Roger Schmierer (fellow RAN) and LCDR Bob Dean (Roger’s pilot). Being senior, Bob was in charge. He decided to take the hard, long way to the shack over the mountains rather than the shorter, more level path. The hike was arduous, but the strategy paid off. We were stopped by a patrol only once, and they let us go. They didn’t even officially notice Bob; as we heard the patrol, he dropped to the ground and used his parachute for cover as trained. The patrol instructor said, “I think I’ll relax on that rock over there” before sitting on Bob. Quite a compliment!
Most of our class was picked up by the patrols over the course of the afternoon. Our little group trudged on, encouraged by the thought of a respite and food. We were quite hungry at that point, a single issue of K-ration (Breakfast) our only food since Tuesday. We arrived at the shack shortly after sunset. Very nice break: we were warm, had water and a stew of some kind. Even had time to lie down for a bit, though I don’t remember sleeping. Then we heard a vehicle pass by. The course was about to enter an entirely different phase: how to survive in a Communist POW camp.
Friday, Day 5: Resistance
Friday, Day 5: Resistance
(This “day” actually started late Thursday, say about 9pm)
The arrival of the enemy patrol led to the usual shouting of abuse and pushing around. It should be noted that the staff were limited in the physical treatment they could apply to students. Real physical violence, especially of the kind that could cause one to be medically unfit for duty was strictly forbidden. More moderate treatment, such as slaps, spitting in one’s face, pushing and the like were permitted (and presumably encouraged!). To substitute for real torture, we were required to do pushups or other physical exercises when ordered by the camp staff. Personally, I didn’t find this specific task too onerous, possibly since I didn’t try very hard to do good push-ups, settling for the girlie kind if I thought no one was looking.
The POW Camp
The POW Camp
We were taken by truck to the POW Camp, a forbidding sight (drawing of actual NVN camp is shown nearby.) Our camp was roughly square, brightly illuminated by floodlights on the perimeter. Guard towers were located at each corner and along each side; guards, who were wearing communist style uniforms, were armed with what appeared to be automatic weapons. The flag of the “People’s Republic” flew above from a central flagpole.
Physically the camp was divided into two unequal rectangular sections, roughly 60-40 in proportion, separated by a tall (10 foot?) barbed wire gated fence. There was room under the gate to wiggle under. This was often required as prisoners were ordered to move from section to section.
The northern section was primarily for living, with barracks (which I never got to enter), and a very rudimentary open pit latrine. The south section was for the guards: interrogation building, “kitchen”, and buildings for processing prisoners in and out. The main entry/exit gate was located along the southern wall. This was important, because this was a prime area for staging potential escapes. As it happened, escaping was generally not in the picture. We had heard about students who successfully escaped, but because they hid out in the woods for some time, they did not get a course completion certificate , not having spent enough time in the POW camp honing their resistance skills. We didn’t want anything to do with that!
Never-ending propaganda, announcements, and orders streamed from the loudspeakers. Intermixed with the propoganda narratives were alien sounding Asian music, all repeated over a several hour cycle. The repetition was intentional, since one of the tenants of propaganda is that constant repetition “makes the half truth seem true.” One such stream began with, “My name is Ivan Ivanovich, but you can call me John.” The theme of this episode was that the communists were everywhere, scooping up classified information at every turn from stupid and traitorous Americans willing to sell out for a buck.
While our little group had the advantage of arriving in the late evening, we paid for it. We were interrogated through the night to start with.
First interrogation: bad cop
First interrogation: bad cop
Interrogation consisted of sessions with the proverbial “good cop- bad cop” team. After having faced abuse from the bad cop, people are more inclined to give something up to the good cop. Here, of course, there were limits to what the bad cop could do, but it could be made extremely uncomfortable nonetheless.
I was called for interrogation around midnight, I think. I was told to sit, on a sharpened stake attached to a cross bar. Sitting on the stake was a challenge. The bad-cop interrogator smirked and asked me if I enjoyed causing pain to myself. I turned the device upside down. One was able to put weight on it but balance was a problem.
Given the ground rules, the brutality of the questioning was definitely not up (or down) to NVA standards. (See illustration of the Ropes Torture draw by POW and future shipmate John McGrath nearby). Slapping, shouting, spitting, push ups were all employed. I finally reached a point where I just stopped answering, fortunately without giving up anything. This led to the next phase, “the coffin”. I was placed in an short, tight box in which there was virtually no room to move. Arms and legs were folded up and there was some cramping and numbness. But overall it wasn’t all that bad! Might be different if you had a touch of claustrophobia.
I was released after an unknown amount of time (perhaps an hour) and returned to the compound.
Compound Life
Compound Life
Aside from trying to keep warm, we all had jobs in a well defined chain of command. The Korean experience was that once the chain of command was broken, POW unit cohesion and thus morale collapsed. According to the code, we couldn’t accept special privileges and the ill or injured need to be taken care of first. All part of not losing faith with each other.
As an ensign, I was far enough down the chain of command so it would be a while until they worked over more senior officers in the interrogation hut. Meanwhile, my other job was Food Officer, and that would be my initial focus once dawn was breaking.
The Food Committee was assembled and we were given some vegetables and gristly joints of meat, all wilted, stale and or moldy. We were told to make a stew. We did have some advanced intel that we weren’t going to consume any of this, so we basically went though the motions of preparation and cooking.
One it was ready, the POW’s were brought out and assembled in formation for chow. It was not to be. For some infraction (don’t remember what), the Camp Commandant shouted that we didn’t deserve food and kicked the cauldron over. We were all pretty hungry so it was still difficult to see even that miserable stew go to waste, even though we were forewarned.
We were briefed not to go under the gate separating the two compound sections, but to make the guards open it for us to march through (military discipline was to be maintained at all costs.) I had been chopping firewood with what appeared to be a caterpillar track blade, which was not very effective. Kept us warm trying, though. This was in the southern part of the compound, and the latrine in the north. So you had to go through the gate to get there. I was told by the guard to go under and he refused to open the gate. I crawled under. My rationale is that this was something I initiated so it seemed silly not to bend the rules a bit.
Time passes slowly, punctuated by various calls to move from one section of the camp, usually for some sort of harassment. Your name was announced over the loudspeakers and you were expected to report to the gate promptly. My name was called early in the afternoon. I was first to arrive and was told to go under the gate. Instead I took up a postion at attention in front of gate. My rationale was if they wanted us badly enough they would let us march through. Unfortunately being at the position of attention I wasn't able to communicate my thought to the assembling group. Once the rest of the party arrived, as senior I reported the party present as ordered. The guard said, “Go under!” The sailor next to me started to do so but I was able to catch his sleeve to bring him back up. I quietly told him we would march through. So we just stood there in an impasse: we refusing to crawl, and the guard unwilling to open the gate. Finally, an angry interrogation officer came out of the hut wanting to know where his POWs were. Seeing us in rank standing on the other side of gate, he ordered the gate open. And we marched through.
Second Interrogation: good cop
Second Interrogation: good cop
I was being interrogated while head of the food committee, so that was the focus. But since this was the good cop, the whole atmosphere was different. We could sit down (on a regular chair) and generally relax. Guards walked in and out of the cell, which was more configured like an office. Very collegial. Talk turned to the food situation. They were very sorry about the loss of the earlier food, but they have a planned replacement. In fact, here it is! The interrogated handed me a mug of stew and said, “ Here, try it to make sure it’s OK!” Very tempting. But we were briefed never accept any special privileges not available to everyone. Any for sure I was the only one with access to food right then. Still, I was the food officer, so a little taste shouldn’t be too bad, and it was part of my job! So I took a sip or two, feeling guilty. The danger of course, is that we could be photographed with the mug to my lips, and the picture circulated to other POWs as an example of how your officers take care of themselves first. Very destructive to unit cohesion!
The Climax
The Climax
The sun goes down early in northern Maine in December. We knew the exercise had to finish sometime soon, given the long ride back to Brunswick. We are all cold, hungry, tired but edgy. Most of the afternoon was taken up by a series of assemblies, with much harassment, usually ending with a POW being dragged across the compound to interrogation. I should mention that at this stage we had worked up a hearty dislike for the guards. We knew in our hearts they were fellow Navyman, but they played their roles so well, and the the camp was so evocative of a real camp, it was impossible for some of us not to look for some payback.
It had now been dark for quite some time and getting hard to see in the camp. We were freezing at attention in ranks in the assembly area, enduring an endless harangue by the Camp Commandant. The interrogation hut door banged open and someone ran out waving a colorful bolt of fabric. A POW was trying to escape! As he ran toward us, he shouted, “I’ve got the flag, I’ve got the flag!” Sure enough, we could now see that he was waving Old Glory. The formation broke up with a collective shout. Some of us jumped the nearest guard, others ran to help the the POW, others just stood yelling with joy. We were free! But some of the guards were taking quite a beating.
The National Anthem began to play over the camp loudspeakers, Everyone stopped, stood to attention, and saluted the American flag, which was now being raised on the camp flagpole. “Everyone” included the Camp Commandant, interrogators, guards, all saluting the US flag while still in their alien Communist uniforms. We were all fellow Americans again.
Once the anthem ended, we mingled with the guards as some cake and punch was served. Whatever animosities some of of may have had were long gone. I personally thought they did an exceptionally difficult job with high professionalism.
We sang Christmas Carols on the way back on the bus while enjoying some cake, our ordeal over. For most of us, anyway. Some would have to face the real thing.
Next article: 1967-03: The longest flight
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