Former POW recounts 67-month experience

  • Published
  • By Airman 1st Class Sarah Busch
  • Air Armament Center Public Affairs
EGLIN AIR FORCE BASE, Fla. (AFPN) --  Even after 67 months as a prisoner of war in North Vietnam, Col. George "Bud" Day could still recognize his wife Doris' footsteps as she walked up behind him at March Air Force Base, Calif., March 17, 1973.

He said it was because of his lifelong faith in God and his deep-rooted love of country and family that he was finally reunited with his family that day after enduring more than five and a half years as a POW.

"I kept Bud on a pedestal with the children," said Doris. "We talked about him every day, and his pictures were always right there. The children saved all their papers from school for those six years he was gone, so they could show their father when he got back."

Now a local attorney here, the former 33rd Fighter Wing vice commander began his more than 30-year tenure with the military in 1942 when he enlisted in the Marine Corps. He served 30 months in the South Pacific as a Marine Corps noncommissioned officer in World War II.

Commissioned in the Army National Guard in 1950, he was called to active duty in the Air Force in 1951. He then completed jet pilot training and served two tours as a fighter pilot during the Korean War. In 1967, he organized and became the first commander of the "Misty" Super Forward Air Controller Squadron at Phu Cat Air Base, South Vietnam, an assignment he held when he was shot down Aug. 26, 1967.

Day said he flew his 139th combat mission of the war that day, his 67th over North Vietnam. He was in the rear seat of the F-100 Super Sabre giving another crewmember his first "check" flight as a front-seat pilot.

While attacking a surface-to-air missile site, their aircraft was shot down by anti-aircraft artillery fire, and Day said the two pilots ejected over North Vietnam. Day was severely injured during the bailout suffering temporary blindness in one eye, an arm broken in three places and his knee knocked out of joint.

"They captured us within 10 minutes of hitting the ground," Day said.

After refusing to answer his captor's questions, Day said communist troops hung him by his feet like a side of beef. He knew this maltreatment was only a prelude of things to come, he said.

"My treatment had all of the cruelties and disregard for human decency that U.S. prisoners had suffered at the hands of the Chinese and North Korean communists a few years earlier," he said. "Considering the 40 percent death rate of those prisoners, the notion of going to another communist prison was not enticing. Perhaps being alive in Hanoi was worse than a bullet."

Although his right arm was mangled, Day said his fingers were still functioning which allowed him to untie the ropes that bound his ankles and slip away into the rice paddies when his guard was not paying attention. During his second night out after escaping, he said he was again wounded; this time by what he thinks was fire from "friendly" forces.

"It exploded nearby, rupturing my ear and sinuses and injuring my right leg," he said.

Day said he continued southward for nearly two weeks, often delirious because of his wounds. He crossed the demilitarized zone into South Vietnam, where fate dealt him the harshest blow yet.

Coming down the trail from the north, he stumbled into a Viet Cong ambush designed to trap South Vietnamese or American soldiers coming up the trail from the south.

"I was surprised by a shout behind me that sounded like 'Hey, boy!" Two uniformed young men held rifles at the ready," Day said. "Finally, I saw their right hands grasped pistol grips under the rifle barrels. The rifles were AK-47s. 'Run!' screamed my brain."

But his damaged feet and legs were slow to respond and rifle fire seemed to crackle from all directions. He said a searing, numbing jolt struck him in the left thigh, then the left hand, nearly knocking him off of his feet.

Limping into the jungle, he smashed his way into the low brush, trying to become invisible. It did not work.

"In a few minutes, I was recaptured," he said. "Now, with wounds or damage to all extremities, and only two miles from the Marine base at Con Thien in South Vietnam, I was once again to start the long trip to the Hanoi Hilton, and five and a half years of imprisonment."

Soon after being recaptured, Day said a routine set in. Every day, except for Sunday, a loud speaker in each cell woke the prisoners up around 6 a.m.

At just about 9:15 a.m., Day said they were released to dump their buckets and were fed soup and either bread or rice. Approximately 45 minutes later, the prisoners were allowed to bathe and wash their clothes; however, this only happened every other day.

Day said they would take a nap from approximately 11:30 a.m. to 1:30 p.m. At 4 p.m., they were fed their dinner, which again consisted of soup and either bread or rice. Lights out was at 9 p.m. The prisoners put their mosquito nets up and went to sleep.

Throughout the day, the prisoners were forced to listen to nearly 14 hours of communist propaganda meant to brainwash them, Day said.

If that was not bad enough, Day said one of his worst beatings happened in 1969. While serving as the vice commander in the camp's POW chain-of-command, he was unjustly accused of being involved in another escape attempt.

"I was beaten with a car fan belt three times a day for three months straight," he said. "I thought for sure they were going to kill me."

Luckily, Day survived to experience one of his proudest moments.

"It happened Dec. 19, 1972, in Hanoi at 9 p.m., when the bombs began to fall," Day said. "I then realized our president had recognized the problem and finally done one of those most lonesome, soul-searching things that a president can do -- turn the force loose in a real war."

Referring to Operation Linebacker when B-52 Stratofortress bombers first attacked Hanoi, Day said the nonstop bombing from Dec. 19, 1972, to Jan. 6, 1973, caused the enemy to "belly up and decide to release us."

He was released March 14, 1973. Three days later, he was on the March AFB flightline waiting to see his family.

"I was so excited," Doris said. "He always knew the sound of my footsteps. He heard me coming."

Doris said Bud was not the husband she remembered. He only weighed 110 pounds and he shrunk two inches in height.

The whites of eyes were yellow and his eyes were sunken in. His teeth were cracked and in horrible condition, she said.

Even though his physical appearance changed, Doris said his voice remained the same.

"It's been such a long time," she said.

"I know. But, I'm home now," Day said.

"I love you, Bud Day!" she replied.

Today, Day stays involved with activities here. When asked about the war in Iraq, he said, "I'm so proud of the troops. I wish I were over there. I feel like the girl that didn't get to go to the prom."

History books show Day as the only POW to have escaped from his captors in North Vietnam and, in the face of incredible odds, work his way south across the demilitarized zone. For his efforts, he received the Medal of Honor. His other decorations include the Air Force Cross, Distinguished Service Medal, Silver Star, Air Medal with nine oak leaf clusters, Legion of Merit and the Purple Heart with three oak leaf clusters.