Washington, D. C.: National Defense University Press, 1995.
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.
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
Douglas Hegdahl was born on September 3, 1946 in Clark, South Dakota. Being from a small town, Douglas once joked with a reporter that he’d “never been east of [his] uncles’ Dairy Queen stand in Glenwood, Minnesota or west of [his] aunt’s house in Phoenix, Arizona.” So when a military
Air Force Maj. Fred V. Cherry, the pilot of an F-105D Thunderchief shot down by anti-aircraft fire on Oct. 22, 1965, was sitting in a dark 10-by-12-foot cell in North Vietnam. His left foot was wrapped in a cast and his left arm in a sling. Suddenly the cell door
It was an unusual treasure the Stevenson Creek dredging contractor found – a Vietnam-era prisoner of war (POW) wristband. Employees of Gator Dredging of Clearwater, Florida discovered the bracelet when their hydraulic barge’s hose sucked it from the creek during dredging operations. “It traveled through approximately 500 yards of pipe