The Hunter
One day in December 1971 I was working at my additional duty as a "fragger" at Fort Apache, i.e., the 388th TFW headquarters building. The secure telephone started its distinctive tinkling sound around 0900 and I walked over to answer it. The voice on the other end of the line said, "This is general Slay. I want (some place name I have long forgotten)." After I took a bit more information I hung up and went over to the Intel shop to find out what that place was that Brigadier General Alton Slay, 7th Air Force Director of Operations, was so interested in. The young intel lieutenant I talked to pulled out the TMCAT, aka Tom Cat. The location turned out to be a Bar Lock site in North Vietnam. After a bit of discussion I walked over to the mission planning room and found JD Cutter and three other Wild Weasel aircrew getting ready for a sortie. I told them that Brigadier General Slay has authorized a strike on the Bar Lock site. However, they were at that time getting some similar, but not the same, information from a young Intel officer who also came into the room about the same time I did. Since I was otherwise busy, I left them to sort out what they were going to do next and went back to the Frag Shop.
JD Cutter was a pilot I had first met in the 28th Air Refueling Squadron when he was a new arrival copilot. He wanted to fly fighters in the worst way, but SAC kept a tight rein on air crew and on pilots especially. The Palace Cobra program allowed him to achieve his dream of being a fighter pilot. This is his story.
JD: Our flight was planning a
mission that had a scheduled takeoff about three hours away when a lieutenant
from ‘Intel’ interrupted us. We had just been cleared by 7th Air
Force in Saigon to hit GCI…Y – E – S!!! About damn time!!! We went
about identifying active GCI in a generally broad area of our target and where
we were going to do some trolling. When we finished doing that, the
lieutenant from Intel was back with an update. We could only hit certain
types of GCI. Okay! It was still good! We went back to
updates to see what we couldn’t hit before we had our general brief, then went
into Weasel ops for our flight briefing. As we broke up to head to the
aircraft, that same lieutenant was there to tell us exactly which GCI sites we
could hit. YGBSM! (You Gotta Be Shit'n Me! A famous Wild Weasel expression that was created at the start of the SAM Hunter/Killer program and suitable for all occasions. Reportedly, it was first uttered by an electronic warfare officer upon first hearing of what they were going to be doing.)
We took off and headed for
our pre-strike tanker. We covered the first TOT and headed for the
Gorilla’s Head north of the Fishes Mouth and Barthelmy Pass. I was
headed generally in an East-Northeasterly direction when a Bar Lock started
looking at us. We got excited because it was one on our “hit list” and
was a relatively new Russian surveillance radar. The radar site was about
10 degrees off to the right of our nose and my Bear wanted me to turn right to
put it on the nose. I nixed the idea because I didn’t want to alert the
GCI controller to any evil intentions we might have. I believe initial
contact was in the 60+ NM range with a largely fluctuating range meter.
We continued on our present
heading driving the GCI site to maybe 20 degrees right of our nose at approximately
50 NM…range meter was still fluctuating, but starting to settle down
some. My Bear was encouraging me to shoot (“SHOOT! SHOOT!
SHOOT!”), but I didn’t like the range. We went through the same drill
all the way down through 40 NM and approaching 30 NM, the range meter was
pretty steady. I had a green missile ready light and was ready to shoot
the AGM-78 Standard Arm missile. A quick double check of my weapons
switches and confirmed with the Bear we had a valid GCI site, and I mashed down
on the “pickle button”. The AGM dropped off the right inboard pylon and
seconds later came out from under the nose trailing a plume of white smoke and began a climb.
We had estimated a
one minute time-of-flight for missile impact, so when we lost the missile BDA (Bomb Damage Assessment)
tone after less than 30 seconds, we were disappointed. After maybe five
seconds we reacquired the BDA tone and were reassured. Just after a
minute the BDA tone quit and the Barlock went off the air!!! YES!
Meanwhile we had begun a gentle turn away from the site. All was very
quiet after missile impact.
During debrief we filled out all the
necessary paperwork and signal data to go off to Kelly AFB, San Antonio, TX for
analysis. About two months later we received word through our
intelligence folks that they had received a Comfy Coat message confirming a
kill of the Barlock. The message further stated that there had been an
indigenous team monitoring the site when our missile came in over their heads
and blew up the radar. The indigenous team had been watching the site for
a couple days collecting data. After the explosion they walked into the
site and collected equipment, etc for analysis. They also counted four KIA – all Russians –
no North Vietnamese. “Shit Hot!”
We got bagged a
short time after that so there was never any additional info on the kill.
The Hunted
The story of my shoot down
actually began on 16 Feb 72 when we got the “frag” order late in the
afternoon. I was on the schedule to lead
a 2-ship Ironhand or “Wild Weasel” mission departing Korat RTAB in support of an
RF-4C, call sign “Falcon 21” and four strike F-4Ds from Udorn RTAB. We would accomplish join up with the F-4s on a
Cherry tanker over northeastern Thailand and take on a full load of
fuel…roughly 4,000 to 5,000#s (750 gal) each.
We would then proceed across Laos to northern South Vietnam, turn north
crossing the DMZ into North Vietnam (Route Pack I) where the F-4Ds would drop
500# Mk-82 GP (general-purpose) bombs and CBU-48 cluster bombs on a SA-2 site
that was responsible for shooting down an F-4E Fast FAC the day before. The RF-4C would lead the strike flight using
LORAN navigation and would follow-up with a photo recce run over the destroyed
site.
Riiiight! At least that was the plan.
First, just a little more
background. The 17 WWS had ‘lost’ a
couple IPs (Instructor Pilots) due to rotations and a shootdown, and I knew
Rich Freienmuth was a good choice as a replacement IP. I talked to the Operations Officer about it and
suggested I give Rich a no-notice evaluation and IP check the next day by
swapping positions in the formation, with Rich leading. Paperwork for the evaluation could wait. I had talked to Rich about this and he was
all for it. We worked the schedule
change through our schedulers and had the info passed on to the Wing Command
Post.
There was a call time set up to
co-ordinate with the strike flight lead utilizing a secure phone in the COMMAND
POST. That turned into a “goat rope”,
with me finally taking over the phone conversation from Rich when the F-4 flight
lead told us he didn’t need our support.
I finally informed him that we would be in the target area to provide
Ironhand support if and when needed, and that we would follow-up the after
action report that the “heroes” from Udorn wouldn’t coordinate with us and that
‘they could win the war all by themselves’.
That changed his attitude, but the phone call didn’t end on a friendly
note.
While in the COMMAND POST I
noticed that the next days sortie schedule was up on the board, and that our
flight line-up had not been changed. I
called it to the attention of the NCO on duty and he said he’d take care of
it. I also noticed that our flight, call
sign “Junior 1 and Junior 2” was at the top of the schedule board, which
required a rolling/sliding ladder to get to it for any changes…I thought, “no
big deal!”
Take-off time was scheduled
around 0800 local with me as #2 with Ken Fraser as my “Bear” and Rich
Freienmuth and Rich McCubbins leading.
We met in combat ops to finish up our mission planning and make one more
call to Udorn and the flight lead to iron out any last minute changes. While in the COMMAND POST I noticed our
flight line-up on the board had not been changed but that an arrow had been
placed to “reflect” the swap in flight lead.
I thought at the time that a quick look at the board by anyone and they
probably wouldn’t pick up on the change.
We finished our flight planning and
the mass wing flight briefing…weather, enemy AAA and SAM activity, Rules
of Engagement, Escape and Evasion, and anything else, but nothing
unusual came up. We briefed our flight and
how we’d handle things with “Falcon 76” (5-ship) pertaining to the formation on the
KC-135 tanker, enroute across Laos to the target area and our weasel formation
to protect them and cover one another.
As we departed PE (Personal Equipment) where I got my survival vest,
helmet, weapon (.38 caliber Combat Special) that went in a shoulder holster as
part of the vest, water bottles and parachute…I’d leave my wallet and any
valuables in an individual lockable container.
About that time the COMMAND POST hotline phone started ringing. I answered it and was told our flight was on
a weather hold. We (including the
“spare” crew) wandered over to the squadron with all our gear anticipating a
short wait. The squadron was dead quiet
due to the early hour so we lay around the lounge and grabbed 30 winks. As the activity increased we decided we
should get some breakfast at the O’Club.
I alerted the COMMAND POST as to our intentions, and borrowed the
squadron jeep. I remember dutifully to
call the COMMAND POST when we got to the club and when we departed. I also remember paying for at least one of
the guy’s breakfast because he didn’t have any money…left his wallet at
PE. I carried a plastic tobacco pouch
with me that had my USAF ID card, Geneva Convention Card, International Shot
Record, a blank check and some US and Thai money just in the event of
diversions or emergencies. It had
already come in handy a couple times.
As we walked back into the
squadron the COMMAND POST hotline phone started ringing. I grabbed it and the voice on the other end
said: “Junior, launch ASAP”. We grabbed
our gear and headed out to the jets (which we hadn’t been to yet). I grabbed one last pee and headed out to my
Thud thinking I wish I’d gone out and dropped my gear off earlier. I hooked up my parachute, checked the
aircraft forms, and told my “bear” to get strapped in, that I would pre-flight
the ordnance and the jet. I accomplished
a quick pre-flight and was strapped in by the time my “Bear” was ready. I got the battery switch on and checked the
lights; etc…gave a signal to the crew chief standing in front of the
revetment to pass on to the flight lead’s crew chief that we were ready. I acknowledged check-in right after that and
we went to ground control for start. We got through the ‘Before Taxi’ checks and
taxied out without any delays, through “last chance” and arming…visual signal
between aircraft to tower frequency approaching RWY 08. We were cleared “On and Hold RWY 08”, then
cleared for takeoff as we finished lining up on the active,. We got the canopies closed and ran the
throttle up to MIL. As the engine came
up to 104% RPM I made one last check of “Speed brakes – In, Flaps - Takeoff
setting, Ejection seat pins- Removed, Canopy - Down and Locked with a visual
check of “Hooks Over Rollers”, Engine instruments looked good and in the Green;
thumbs up to #1 that I was good to go. I
heard his engine sound change as he selected burner and released brakes. I had started my countdown to brake
release…usually 15 or 20 second spacing for single-ship takeoffs. As the 15 to 20 seconds approached, I selected
A/B, held the brakes to a count of three and released brakes…got an
instantaneous bump with the burner light...engine instruments in the ‘green’
with EPR in the bug, EGT was good, selected water injection with a subsequent
green light and slight rise in EGT.
Yes! We’re on our way…good line
speed check at the 2000-foot marker – somewhere in the 100-knot area. Takeoff speed was around 185 knots with
takeoff distance 8000 feet plus, gear up with a positive rate of climb and
engine instruments looking good, flaps up at 240 knots minimum…leave the burner
in until around 450 to 500 knots to expedite join-up.
I had a technique to expedite
join-up by leaving the burner in with a very slow rate of climb. As I got to my 450 to 500 knots I’d climb at
a rate that would hold that speed; then as the lead aircraft got just about
directly overhead, I’d pull the nose up to keep lead in that same spot using
the “Mark one eyeball,” MIL power while keeping an eye on airspeed because I
knew lead was at 350 knots; and pop up in “Route Formation” (2 to 4 ship
widths), then into close formation. I
loved it!
We joined with Cherry
tanker, but held off topping off the tanks.
Once we were in a rendezvous with Falcon 76 we’d top off so Falcon could
get on the boom right off…but nothing from Falcon. I finally asked Rich about checking with GCI
on Falcon…tanker said they’d check for us.
We finally found out from GCI that Falcon 76 was still on the ground at
Udorn with a maintenance problem. We
were on Cherry tanker for an hour before we heard Falcon was airborne. Fifteen minutes later we’re still wondering
where they were. Another check with GCI and
we discover they’re on a Peach tanker 50 miles north of us. We topped off again and headed for Peach
tanker and Falcon. I distinctly remember
going straight over to “Invert Control” (GCI at Nakhon Phanom) and requesting heading and
distance to Peach tanker and Falcon 76.
Invert came back with “Do you want Peach tanker or Falcon 76???” Lead asked if they weren’t “Holding Hands”
(in formation together)? Invert said
Falcon 76 was across the “Fence” (Mekong River) inbound! YGBSM!!!
My eyeballs went out to around
one o’clock and I spotted a black smoke trail that I figured should be Falcon
76. Lead was in a right turn and I was
able to get his eyes on Falcon. We were
in MIL power, descending slowly while accelerating to 500 knots chasing Falcon
76 across Laos. We finally closed on
Falcon heading southeasterly as they approached the now abandoned Khe Sanh
MCAF. I could see we were really
‘eating’ Falcon, and when I couldn’t stand it any more, I asked Falcon what
their speed was…300 knots… we were doing 450 knots; that’s over 200 knots True Airspeed overtake. Talk about “Eating them like a grape!” I know what Rich is doing and my power is in
idle already with the “boards” (speed brakes) coming out in stages to maintain
my position on #1 as we come up on either side of Falcon flight…a 5-ship in “V”
route formation. I felt like a bird
slowing down with its wings flapping and its head back, while standing on its
tail. It was almost comical, but I was
pissed at the same time… stupid mistake, and in front of Phantom pukes. Most of it occurred behind them so it wasn’t
as bad since they couldn’t see us very well.
Thuds/Weasels had a lot of pride!
We pressed on like this for
maybe a minute, and when I couldn’t stand it any more I said “Falcon 76,
Junior, ‘Push It Up! We don’t fly this slow in a threat environment!’” We did NOT fly this slow in a SAM threat area. Dumb! So they pushed it up to 350 knots…YGBSM! We made a slow turn to the left, circumnavigating
Khe Sanh. As we rolled out northbound…I
was on the left looking across the flight, and could see what appeared to be a
SAM cloud that couldn’t have been very old.
It didn’t appear to have hit anything because of its color…light
tan/yellow. I checked my radio to see if
I had Guard channel (243.0 UHF) receiver selected…I did. Nobody had heard any SAM calls…so what
happened? The SAM cloud was just hanging
there and was mostly intact with only light winds. The F-4s had spread to a loose route but as we crossed over the DMZ
northbound, I called for Falcon 76 to “Push It Up”, I don’t fly this slow up
here! Rich and I spread out into our
weasel formation to protect the strike flight as we got to 400 knots…minimum
speed for us up here. I liked at least
450 knots…permits instant maneuvering and ‘G’ available.
Falcon 77 had briefed to release
their ordnance from the RF-4C LORAN coordinates, and then make a hard turn to the east, egressing RP-1 “feet wet” over the Gulf of Tonkin. Flight Lead, Junior 01, would come back around and
we’d weasel our way westbound across North Vietnam to Laos. I watched Falcon go into a slight descent,
but didn’t see any bombs come off their aircraft, and then suddenly they
started a climbing left turn to the west.
Rich had already turned east and was going to buttonhook back
around, but about halfway through the Phantoms left turn, a Fansong radar came
up with me in its cross-hairs. I had a “3-ringer” at 11:30 on my APR-36 scope;
an E/F band light and blinking launch light on my APR-37; an “AS”
(Azimuth-Sector) light, that we called the “Aw Shit”
light, which meant we were in the crosshairs of his “track-while scan” Fansong
radar; an E/F light and launch light on the ALR-42 receiver; and a screaming
receiver from the AGM-45 Shrike Missile warhead/antennae I had selected. I was outboard into burner (on the throttle)
before I even had time to absorb the lights and what was going on.
On the ground there’s a
3-5 second delay before the burner lights, but airborne there’s a 5-7 second
delay in the sequencing of the speed brake petals, engine nozzles and hot
streak ignition of the fuel as it’s pumped into the AB section.
I push the nose over to negative
G since the missile is coming up under the left side of the aircraft nose as I
anticipate the burner light. I can’t see
the missile but start a hard break down and to the right. Unfortunately, as I start the roll/break turn
I see the detonation flash of the missile in front of the right wing. I feel this tremendous concussion as the
explosion tries to tear off my head. I
can’t see anything but feel like the control stick has gone limp in my right
hand…as if I can pull the stick out and throw it away. I have the sensation of being able to see
through the right side of the cockpit over the right console to the
outside. I am aware of losing
consciousness and try to say “Get Out Ken!”
I don’t think my mouth was still connected to my brain, so nothing came
out. My brain feels like a switchboard
operator pulling all the plugs out of an old time switchboard. I reach down with both hands, pull up the
ejection seat handles and squeeze both triggers. I never heard or felt Ken’s canopy or
ejection seat fire, or my canopy or ejection seat fire. Note: If Ken initiates ejection, only his
canopy and seat go. If I initiate
ejection the ejection is sequenced with his canopy and seat going, followed by
my canopy and seat going. This prevents
the seats/canopies from colliding.
Fortunately for the both of us everything worked automatically after I
squeezed the triggers. Ken doesn’t think
he ever pulled the handles or squeezed the triggers. I’m unconscious when I leave the aircraft and
estimate my speed at over 500 knots indicated airspeed. That’s definitely over 550 knots true airspeed, and it rips
me a new one. I’m sure I flail badly
since I dislocate both my shoulders…can’t raise my arms above shoulder level
for a week. I have shrapnel wounds to
the right side of my face and scalp, and powder burns down to my upper
chest. I have five broken teeth to start
that I know of.
POW
I regain consciousness roughly 2
- 4 hours later in the bottom of a fishing boat on what I think is a river out
of the coastal fishing village of Dong Hoi, North Vietnam. There’s “almost a medic” working on the right
side of my face and scalp…“almost a doctor” is in a white smock at my
feet. It’s like coming out of a deep
sleep. “Almost a doc” sees me coming
around and says something to me in Vietnamese, which I don’t understand. He then asks me if I speak French. Something
like “Parlez vous Francais?” I shake my
head no and he responds with “Je sui le doctor!” I nod my understanding! “Almost a medic” is picking shrapnel out of
my face and scalp, then applying a couple bandages when “almost a doctor says
“Novocain!”, but with a French accent.
I open my eyes as “almost a medic” plunges what seemed like a gigantic
syringe into my check bone. That’s the
first pain I remember feeling…
The fishing boat, which is more
like a large row boat, seems to meander around, stopping (hiding) under trees
occasionally. I don’t hear any aircraft,
but the “V” are obviously playing it safe.
I’m in and out of consciousness, but am aware of the boat eventually
sliding ashore. I can hear this rumbling
like sound but have no idea what it is.
One of the “V” motions for me to get up from on my back in the bottom of
the boat, but I’m unable to without help.
The guard sees my dilemma and jerks me to an upright position, forces me
over and ties my elbows behind my back, which in turn forces me further forward
at the hips. The noise I’d heard
previously intensifies before I realize it’s a 500 - 1,000 peasant workforce on
the riverbank and dike system. I walk
down this narrow board held up by crossed bamboo poles to the shore. The crowd is getting noisier and threatening,
but I’m in a state of shock and not totally into it. The crowd throws what I believe is rocks so I
keep my head down with my face protected as much as possible. There’s a guard in front of and another
behind me, and eventually the guard in front of me gets hit with a rock/dirt
clod… he threatens the crowd by brandishing his rifle in the air. The threat doesn’t seem to have any effect on
them.
We press on to the very steep
embankment of the dike and the guards push and pull me to the top. I really have no recollection of that part of
the “event” other than just that. We are
now standing on top of the dike at the lowered tailgate of this large military
truck where the truck bed is above my eye level. The guard motions me to get
in! YGBSM! I make a very weak and futile attempt to
raise my leg up to the stirrup and the guard sees the futility of it. One guard grabs my leg out from under me and
puts it in the stirrup while the other one catches my back and they literally
throw me up and into the bed of the truck.
They tie me to the back of the cab and somewhere after that I untie
myself. They find me like that
asleep/unconscious and they get physical with me. I remember getting hit with a rifle across
the chest/arm, but not much else. I was
pretty much out of it and numb. Is that
the same thing??? Probably ‘shock’.
It’s after dark now and I’m
conscious of walking down a trail with what seem to be thousands of
fireflies…turns out to be flashlights.
There are two other POWs that I eventually identify as my ‘Bear’, Ken
Fraser and an F-4D WSO named Ed Hawley out of Udorn RTAB. I don’t know where or what has happened to
Ed’s pilot…discover later that he’s KIA, but don’t know the circumstances. We are separated and taken to underground
concrete bunkers. I have no idea how
I’ve gotten here or what has happened in the interim.
I climbed down through a hole in
the corner of a bunker and am ordered to stand in front of a small desk with
two Vietnamese in uniform without rank. I have no idea if they are officers or
NCOs. I was asked in separate questions
my name, rank and serial number, and then they got into specifics about type
aircraft, base, wing, mission, etc. I
kept giving them name, rank and serial number until I got bored and realized
the idiocy of the whole thing…and just shut up.
I forgot all about Date Of Birth.
I may really sound brave but I was scared shitless. I estimated that I had been unconscious for
up to 4 - 6 hours and had no idea what had happened to me between being tied to
the back of the truck cab and walking down the trail in the dark.
After a few minutes the
interrogator gets pissed at my silence and says: “You are in very serious trouble for
violating the airspace of the Democratic Republic of Vietnam!” I couldn’t believe it. I remember it very clearly to this day. My eyes rolled up into my head in disbelief. His reaction was to be instantly really
pissed…gave me a really hard stare and ordered me to stand against the back
wall of the bunker. I felt that I was in
really deep shit now, but I’m half numb and in shock. While I was standing against the back wall
(maybe 8 ft away) there wondering what was next…what are they going to do to me
now. I suddenly realize I really have to
take a whiz!!! So how am I going to tell
this guy I just pissed off that I ‘gotta’ take a whiz? I could see his anger as he jabbered with the
other guy, so do I say: “I need to go to the bathroom.” Or “I gotta take a leak.” or I need to
pee.” I didn’t have a clue and didn’t
want to piss him off any more than I already had. He was really ranting and raving there for a
minute. Later on I realized I had beaten
him at his own game and that he had really lost face when he got so upset and
pissed. Believe me when I say that I had
no intention of pissing him off and that I had no clue as to what I was
doing. I was just taking one step at a
time and not trying to be a smart-ass. I
was really terrified, but tried to put up a ‘do-nothing, say-nothing’
front. I could honestly see them taking
me out and shooting me because the guy was so pissed off. But, I still gotta piss. After what seemed like an eternity he pointed
at the corner where we’d come in and said something I didn’t understand. I stepped over to the corner and a guard
stepped up on dirt piled in the corner and climbed up through the opening. Another guard followed, both with bolt-action
rifles, and not ‘AK’s. I got maybe 10
steps away and start peeing. I looked
around and neither guard was watching me…not that I could get away. They just don’t appear to want to watch me
while I’m peeing. I feel like I peed
forever before we go back into the bunker.
Eventually the guy I thought was in charge gets tired of this and needs
to press on so we leave via the truck. I
remember very little after that.
As it turns out Ed Hawley had
first seen me and my Bear on stretchers with a blanket over us in what we think
was the fishing village of Dong Hoi. Ed
was looking for his pilot and didn’t recognize us. Ed was burned about the wrists, neck and face
from sitting in a pool of burning jet fuel in the RCP (Rear Cockpit) while trying to
eject. The Phantom was in a violent flat
spin and Ed was having a hard time getting to the lower ejection ring. He doesn’t have any idea how he ejected, but
thinks his pilot initiated ejection right before the jet hit the ground. Ed doesn’t believe his pilot ever got out
because of the close proximity to the ground.
Ed remembers having a good chute and a couple swings before hitting the
ground. Neither Ken nor I have any
recollection of the event where Ed saw us on the stretchers.
I have no recollection of what
happened after this until we crossed what I think was the Vinh or Thanh Hoa
Bridge. I had no idea how we got across
other than I believe we walked, but now we’re riding in a jeep…with a driver,
NCO/Officer, 2 guards and 3 POWs…all in one small jeep. We were sitting on some of our survival
gear/parachutes and the two guards were hanging on the outside/rear of the jeep
in a standing position. The two guards
rode that way for the remaining 200 or so miles to Hanoi. During this delay and transfer, I remember
being very thirsty and having to pee again.
Then Ken, who’s totally out of it, says “water, water!” That’s all Ken said on our journey to
Hanoi. I pee and the guard gives us some
water and a “cereal bar” which the three of us share. I really don’t remember anything more except
being in severe pain all 400 miles to Hanoi.
We were sitting on the metal bed of the jeep with our legs out in front
of us. I had Ken’s legs draped over mine
at a 90-degree angle and they were heavy.
I remember Ken was in some kind of a body cast with his left arm
sticking out to the front as if pointing.
As it turns out he had a fractured left elbow from hitting the canopy
rail after I punched him out. He had no
recollection of anything including our mission and the first week of
solitary. He told me that one day he
found himself wandering around his cell and momentarily wondered where he
was. I told him later that I wished I’d
been there to tell him.
After our roughly 1600 arrival
at the Hanoi Hilton, we were separated and put into individual cells in New Guy
Village where we spent the next month.
To my knowledge I was never in Heartbreak, but next to it. During this time I was initially interrogated
on a regular basis, but not daily; received a minimal amount of medical
attention and constantly but subtly threatened.
I had no contact with any outside guards or other POWs other than the
interrogators and “Smiley” who I believe was one of the higher ups at the
Hilton. The guards put my food on the
floor just inside my cell door, but behind a curtain. I never saw them during this time because of
the curtain and a hood…and always handcuffed.
I was unable to eat except for some sugar, warm sweet milk and the
inside of what I called French bread.
This was due to my broken teeth and cut up mouth, but I just wasn’t
hungry and had no desire to eat. The
body just shuts down. I believe a
Chinese officer that spoke no English interrogated me one time. While in solitary I virtually had no sleep,
but catnapped. I had injuries to my
head, face, tailbone, five broken teeth, both shoulders dislocated and sore
hips, mostly from the shootdown, ejection and capture. I had extensive bruising from head to toe and
was very stiff and sore. I did empty Ken
and Ed’s buckets and washed their clothing a couple times a week when I was
taken to the wash area.
After a month the three of us
were transferred with hoods over our head and handcuffed in the front, to the
Zoo in southwest Hanoi. Whenever a POW
was moved around in the prison system they were always hooded and cuffed,
especially if you were outside the prison camp.
That’s the way all POW’s were moved.
Whenever you were interrogated or quizzed, you had to have on long
clothing…no bare arms or legs.
Epilogue
James Dickenson Cutter was repatriated in March of 1973, having spent a little over thirteen months as a prisoner of war in Hanoi. After medical treatment he went back on flying status and completed his Air Force career flying fighters. He flew his final mission last September, 2015.
