As far back as he can recall, self-proclaimed Army brat Paul Galanti dreamed of soaring through the skies. While many teens yearn to sit behind the wheel of a car, Paul envisioned climbing into a cockpit.
“I always wanted to fly,” Galanti said. “Actually kindergarten was the first time I saw an airplane. I’m not sure I could count to 17 but I knew what a B-17 was.”
Stretched on his back, hands bound behind him – Querin could feel the damp earth all around him.
The North Vietnamese captors of American servicemen were adamant. No writing on the pri son walls. No noise. No dis courtesy to the guards. Regulations issued by the North Vietnamese in 1969 pro mised a reward for prisoners who informed about violations and punishment for those who tried to oppose
For weeks the returned P.O.W.s had been stepping from “freedom birds” onto the television screens—most of them saluting crisply, walking smartly, looking physically fit and acting mentally alert. As the nation’s early apprehensions faded, a new idea set in: perhaps the P.O.W.s had been humanely treated after all. That illusion
Three Navy airmen told yesterday of having given information under torture to the North Vietnamese. But each said he had been able to offer some, resistance and none seemed in any way apologetic. “I would say I did not break,” said Capt. James P. Mehl of Hauppauge, L. I., a
I grew up in Burley, Idaho. We lived on a farm and I learned to work hard at an early age. I enlisted in the Air Force in 1956 when I was seventeen years old and spent two years in Japan and nearly two years in Germany. In 1960 I