In 1967, there was a “unit” of approximately 300 Americans fighting the Vietnam War from within a Hanoi prison. The unit—later named the 4th Allied POW Wing—was located in the drab North Vietnamese capital. Within this unit, every man had the same job: prisoner of war.
All—except three enlisted airmen—were officers, including me. Our job description was to continue fighting for the United States while imprisoned.
When 2nd Lt. John “Spike” Nasmyth climbed into his F-4 Phantom II on Sept. 4, 1966, to fly a combat mission over Vietnam, he never foresaw that he’d be blown out of the sky by a surface-to-air missile. The last words he heard before his jet was transformed into a
Trying to finish unpacking from a recent move, I first came upon a box that held the last saved treasures of my past; my L.P.N. name tag from my first career as a nurse, the mouthpiece from the french horn I played from 3rd through 12th grade, (not my idea),
Brought down by a faulty fuze on his wingman’s bomb, Tom Moe survived more than five years as a POW in North Vietnam.
Maj. John Stuart had a big decision to make after turning his B-52D for an attack run over Hanoi. The bomber had taken some hits from enemy fighters. Surface-to-air missiles now were streaking toward it. The choice: Break off the bombing run and evade, or stay on course. Stuart stayed on course.
There is a bottle of champagne in the Abbott home on Rensterville Road in Alloway, N. J., that has been chilling there since October, 1968. It will bbe opened when Maj. Joseph S. Abbott Jr. of the Air Force returns home from North Vietnam some time soon.