Chained Eagle: The Heroic Story of the First American Shot Down over North Vietnam

13 Fidel

DESPITE OUR BEST EFFORTS TO KEEP INFORMED, NOT ONE of us picked up any hint of why they worked us so hard outdoors in midAugust , 1967. For two weeks we collected litter and removed trash, trimmed bushes, cut the grass, tidied up flower beds and swept the grounds. The turnkeys and guards who watched over us walked around at dusk,surveying the neat landscape and looking for flaws to be corrected the following day. Instead of going home in the evenings, as was usual, the camp commander stayed overnight. We nicknamed him Lumpy because of the large lump on his forehead, and because he was fatter and rounder than the other Vietnamese and resembled the cartoon character of the same name. Lumpy regularly dressed in a khaki-colored Mao-tse-Tung tunic buttoned up to his neck below his bulging Adam's Apple. While he sat on his porch talking animatedly with subordinates, we speculated that he must be preparing for the arrival of a Vietnamese big shot. Or perhaps the beautification project was designed to deceive an inspector from the International Red Cross. We could only guess because none of us had picked up any firm intelligence. At the end of August, the object of our curiosity drove up unannounced in a green sedan just after the guards sealed us in at dusk. Lumpyled the camp staff in a thunderous roar of welcome. Before anyone could glimpse the VIP, however, he was swallowed up in the crush of Vietnamese moving towards the headquarters building. Not long after, we heard them singing and partying . We wondered whether the Vietnamese had not felt cheated because the visitor had slipped in at night and not seen the results of the beautification. The following dusk Tom was peeking through the slits in our door when he exclaimed excitedly, "Ev! It's the same sedan that came in last night!" Before long the doors of the Garage slammed and we saw a POW taken off to quiz. Another followed soon after. Then a turnkey we called Pimples pushed open our door, pointed in my direction and ordered me to follow. I stood at the door of the quiz room, surprised to see what looked like a 181 13 FIDEL 182 CHAINED EAGLE foreign delegation of two seated on either side of Lumpy. On one side of the camp commander sat a tall, bulky man with thick jet black hair rising straight up. Of fair complexion, he looked like a slightly less rugged version of the movie star, Anthony Quinn. His white shirt was unbuttoned and I could see his blue pants were neatly pressed above pointy-toed shoes. The other visitor, also Caucasian, was much smaller and older with graying hair. He wore a white T-shirt. Even though a fan revolved behind them, the room remained stiflingly hot. I bowed to Lumpy but it was the large visitor who spoke. "Sit down!" he ordered with a commanding tone to his voice. It surprised me that he showed no deference to Lumpy, who looked detached as he sucked on a pencil. "What's your name?" the heavy visitor growled in an accent I couldn't place. I was still sizing him up, wondering where he could have come from and what his purpose was when he snapped, "I asked what your name was!" He stood up so that his bulk now loomed much more intimidatingly. "Don't you hear well?" "My name is Alvarez." "Ah, Alvarez. Alvarez. What's your first name?" "Everett," I replied, wondering what was happening and beginning to feel threatened. "You speak Spanish?" "Yeah." "You a Mexican?" "No." "C'mon! Your mama and your papa?" "They were born in the U.S.A." "And their mamas and papas?" "From Mexico." "Uh-huh!" He sat down and as he did so, I felt the fear of imminent terror recede somewhat, even though he held me fast in a riveting glare. "Here, have a cigarette," he said, offering an open pack of a Vietnamese brand. I shook my head. "What's your rank?" "Lieutenant, junior grade." "When were you shot down?" "August 5, 1964." He paused but betrayed no emotion. FIDEL 183 "What were you flying?" I wasn't about to oblige him with military information. The Vietnamese had not had such an easy time forcing me to sign their fictional confessions. They'd had to beat it out of...