Latest news with #HanoiHilton
Yahoo
4 days ago
- General
- Yahoo
How a POW humming ‘Old McDonald' at Hanoi Hilton saved lives
He couldn't recall how he had gotten there — all Douglas Hegdahl could remember was leaving behind his glasses in his bunk and going up to the top deck of the cruiser Canberra to watch the ship firing its guns off the Gulf of Tonkin. 'I can't tell you how I fell from my ship,' Hegdahl said after his release in 1969. 'All I know is, I walked up on the deck. It was dark and they were firing, and the next thing I recall I was in the water.' Picked up by a North Vietnamese fishing boat after treading water for hours, and handed over to the Viet Cong before being brought to Hỏa Lò Prison, also known as the Hanoi Hilton. It was there that the 20-year-old sailor from Clark, South Dakota, began one of the greatest non-combatant cons of the war. Deemed a low-value prisoner due to his low rank, Hegdahl began to exploit this perception. 'I had probably the most embarrassing capture in the entire Vietnam War,' Hegdahl said in a 1997 interview with author and veteran Marc Leepson. 'I found that my defense posture was just to play dumb. Let's face it, when you fall off your boat, you have a lot to work with.' Pretending to be illiterate and suffering from a cognitive disability, Hegdahl's ruse eventually led to his captors giving the American prisoner of war more leeway within the harsh confines of the prison, which often included regular use of severe torture and harsh interrogation. Unlike many prisoners who were not allowed to interact with one another, Hegdahl was given more freedom to interact with POWs — which he used to his advantage. After his initial capture in 1967, Hegdahl quietly began to collect vital information, covertly communicating with fellow POWs, memorizing the names, capture dates and personal details of approximately 256 other American prisoners, according to the Veterans Breakfast Club. He developed mnemonic devices, including the nursery rhyme 'Old McDonald Had a Farm,' and repeated the information constantly to ensure he would not forget it. He also managed to glean the exact location of the infamous camp. Dubbed 'The Incredibly Stupid One' by North Vietnamese guards, Hegdahl frequently frustrated their attempts to use him for propaganda purposes. Feigning compliance, Hegdahl would read out statements criticizing the U.S., but they were so laced with errors and the performance so flat that they were rendered unusable by his captors. 'I was so mad about their propaganda that it became a personal war to think how I could mess it up,' Hegdahl recalled in a 1972 interview. Despite most of the American officers having a 'No Go Home Early' pact, Hegdahl was released in 1969 with the support of imprisoned senior officers in order to bring back valuable intelligence to the U.S. government. His meticulous recall of names provided a comprehensive list of POWs held in Vietnam, including the reclassification of 63 service members previously listed as missing in action to POW. After his release from the Army, Hegdahl moved to San Diego, but never stopped serving his country. He began working as an instructor in the Survival, Evasion, Resistance and Escape, or SERE, school in San Diego Bay. One of his students, William J. Dougherty, a CIA officer, was among the 52 hostages held in the U.S. Embassy during the 1979 Iranian Hostage Crisis. Dougherty credits Hegdahl's lectures with helping him keep his 'sanity, dignity and secrets intact.' According to Leepson, Hegdahl's quick thinking and coolness under immense strain should be recognized. 'I think it was one of the most heroic acts not in combat during the Vietnam War,' Leepson told The Independent. 'And I think that's something that people should know.'
Kyodo News
13-05-2025
- Kyodo News
Former POW, U.S. envoy to Vietnam reflects on swapping hate for hope
By Rachael Bayliss-Chan, KYODO NEWS - 4 hours ago - 10:04 | All, World Walking out of the "Hanoi Hilton" prison a free man after six and a half years as a prisoner of war in Vietnam, Douglas "Pete" Peterson never expected he would become a bridge between that country and its enemy, the United States. But that's exactly what happened when President Bill Clinton appointed Peterson as the first postwar U.S. ambassador to Vietnam in 1997. Peterson had decided to "leave his hate at the gate" and follow a path directed not by vengeance, but by purpose. As a U.S. Air Force pilot, Peterson was captured in 1966 after his plane was shot down by the North Vietnamese while he was on a nighttime mission near Hanoi. Locals discovered him badly hurt after he fell into a mango tree, Peterson explained in an early account of his capture. They paraded him through villages in a motorbike sidecar before he was taken to prison and brutally interrogated. He would be transferred from prison to prison until his release on March 4, 1973. At one point, a captor threatened him with a gun when forcing him to do something. "I said, 'Shoot. I don't care. Go ahead. You want to kill me? It's all right.' You know, I'd been there six years anyway, so I thought I'd be there the rest of my life. For him to come up and threaten me with a gun, it was laughable." Fifty years on from the end of the Vietnam War, Peterson, now 89, reflected on his unique journey in an interview with Kyodo News at his home in Melbourne, Australia. "I had hated the Vietnamese so much for so long that I kind of felt like I'd run out of hate," he said of his state of mind immediately after being released from the infamous Hoa Lo Prison in Hanoi, known as the "Hanoi Hilton" by American POWs. "When I ended up going back to the States, I made a conscious decision that I was not going to be a POW the rest of my life," he said. "I really did think that I had something to contribute, and maybe that experience would help me make those changes in the future." The opportunity came after he was elected to Congress as a representative for Florida in 1991 and made several trips back to Vietnam. "I couldn't believe how poor the people were and how friendly they were," Peterson said of his first return to Vietnam, also in 1991. "They knew who I was, and they still treated me with great respect and in a very friendly way." Peterson had gone back to seek accountability for the approximately 2,600 Americans missing in action -- a mission that continued in his work as ambassador, though initially he had strong misgivings about taking on the role. Sending a former POW back as ambassador did not strike him as sensible. "I felt (the Vietnamese) would be quite unhappy with that idea. And I wanted reconciliation. I didn't want to cause any problems in that regard." But his role as a former POW and as a congressman turned out to be helpful in breaking the ice to forge a new diplomatic relationship. Peterson credits his upfront approach, which had helped him during his captivity, with enabling him to speed up progress on gaining trust. "I was that way with my captors, and I had that similar feeling when I was dealing with their diplomats. Be as open and transparent as possible," Peterson said. "I think by being that way, they understood, and we made faster progress than we would have otherwise." As ambassador from 1997 to 2001, Peterson oversaw the negotiation of a key trade agreement between the United States and Vietnam, and started the "Safe Vietnam" program, in which he worked with the Vietnamese government to improve safety awareness in the country, including a law to make helmet use mandatory for motorbike riders. Since his ambassadorship, Peterson has devoted himself to improving safety for children throughout Asia, a cause he became passionate about on his early trips across Vietnam as envoy, where he made a point to visit a school, hospital and business in each new province he traveled to. It was on these visits to overcrowded hospitals where Peterson noticed most of the patients were children and young people, with doctors telling him most cases were caused by accidents. "I just couldn't get that out of my mind," he said. In 2002, he set up a nonprofit with his Vietnamese-Australian wife, Vi Peterson, dubbed The Alliance for Safe Children, dedicated to preventing accidental childhood injuries and death throughout Asia. Extensive door-knocking surveys conducted by the group in several countries across Asia revealed drowning as the biggest killer of children in the region, spurring the organization to establish programs to teach children to swim in China, Vietnam, Thailand, the Philippines and Bangladesh. While they have no hard numbers on the lives saved through the program, which was disbanded last year, Peterson and his wife remain proud of the organization's legacy, with swimming lessons continuing in some countries. "We definitely are very proud that we've been able to save lives, even though we can't count them. I'm sure it's thousands and thousands." As he approaches his 90th birthday in June, Peterson anticipates he won't be moving on to any new projects, content to finally enjoy his retirement. However, looking at major conflicts in the world today, he worries about the perilous state of international relations. "The things that we did in the past wouldn't work now because they're too old-fashioned," said Peterson. "They're based on the old school of trust -- diplomacy, mutual respect and transparency -- those things are gone." The bonds that once united friendly nations in the past have been "severely broken," he said, and reestablishing trust will be a great challenge. "Diplomacy is not personal, but we have certain individuals, leaders in the world now, who have made diplomacy personal. That then really makes it difficult to find solutions and to find a way to rectify differences."
Kyodo News
13-05-2025
- Kyodo News
Former POW, U.S. envoy to Vietnam reflects on swapping hate for hope
By Rachael Bayliss-Chan, KYODO NEWS - 3 minutes ago - 10:04 | All, World Walking out of the "Hanoi Hilton" prison a free man after six and a half years as a prisoner of war in Vietnam, Douglas "Pete" Peterson never expected he would become a bridge between that country and its enemy, the United States. But that's exactly what happened when President Bill Clinton appointed Peterson as the first postwar U.S. ambassador to Vietnam in 1997. Peterson had decided to "leave his hate at the gate" and follow a path directed not by vengeance, but by purpose. As a U.S. Air Force pilot, Peterson was captured in 1966 after his plane was shot down by the North Vietnamese while he was on a nighttime mission near Hanoi. Locals discovered him badly hurt after he fell into a mango tree, Peterson explained in an early account of his capture. They paraded him through villages in a motorbike sidecar before he was taken to prison and brutally interrogated. He would be transferred from prison to prison until his release on March 4, 1973. At one point, a captor threatened him with a gun when forcing him to do something. "I said, 'Shoot. I don't care. Go ahead. You want to kill me? It's all right.' You know, I'd been there six years anyway, so I thought I'd be there the rest of my life. For him to come up and threaten me with a gun, it was laughable." Fifty years on from the end of the Vietnam War, Peterson, now 89, reflected on his unique journey in an interview with Kyodo News at his home in Melbourne, Australia. "I had hated the Vietnamese so much for so long that I kind of felt like I'd run out of hate," he said of his state of mind immediately after being released from the infamous Hoa Lo Prison in Hanoi, known as the "Hanoi Hilton" by American POWs. "When I ended up going back to the States, I made a conscious decision that I was not going to be a POW the rest of my life," he said. "I really did think that I had something to contribute, and maybe that experience would help me make those changes in the future." The opportunity came after he was elected to Congress as a representative for Florida in 1991 and made several trips back to Vietnam. "I couldn't believe how poor the people were and how friendly they were," Peterson said of his first return to Vietnam, also in 1991. "They knew who I was, and they still treated me with great respect and in a very friendly way." Peterson had gone back to seek accountability for the approximately 2,600 Americans missing in action -- a mission that continued in his work as ambassador, though initially he had strong misgivings about taking on the role. Sending a former POW back as ambassador did not strike him as sensible. "I felt (the Vietnamese) would be quite unhappy with that idea. And I wanted reconciliation. I didn't want to cause any problems in that regard." But his role as a former POW and as a congressman turned out to be helpful in breaking the ice to forge a new diplomatic relationship. Peterson credits his upfront approach, which had helped him during his captivity, with enabling him to speed up progress on gaining trust. "I was that way with my captors, and I had that similar feeling when I was dealing with their diplomats. Be as open and transparent as possible," Peterson said. "I think by being that way, they understood, and we made faster progress than we would have otherwise." As ambassador from 1997 to 2001, Peterson oversaw the negotiation of a key trade agreement between the United States and Vietnam, and started the "Safe Vietnam" program, in which he worked with the Vietnamese government to improve safety awareness in the country, including a law to make helmet use mandatory for motorbike riders. Since his ambassadorship, Peterson has devoted himself to improving safety for children throughout Asia, a cause he became passionate about on his early trips across Vietnam as envoy, where he made a point to visit a school, hospital and business in each new province he traveled to. It was on these visits to overcrowded hospitals where Peterson noticed most of the patients were children and young people, with doctors telling him most cases were caused by accidents. "I just couldn't get that out of my mind," he said. In 2002, he set up a nonprofit with his Vietnamese-Australian wife, Vi Peterson, dubbed The Alliance for Safe Children, dedicated to preventing accidental childhood injuries and death throughout Asia. Extensive door-knocking surveys conducted by the group in several countries across Asia revealed drowning as the biggest killer of children in the region, spurring the organization to establish programs to teach children to swim in China, Vietnam, Thailand, the Philippines and Bangladesh. While they have no hard numbers on the lives saved through the program, which was disbanded last year, Peterson and his wife remain proud of the organization's legacy, with swimming lessons continuing in some countries. "We definitely are very proud that we've been able to save lives, even though we can't count them. I'm sure it's thousands and thousands." As he approaches his 90th birthday in June, Peterson anticipates he won't be moving on to any new projects, content to finally enjoy his retirement. However, looking at major conflicts in the world today, he worries about the perilous state of international relations. "The things that we did in the past wouldn't work now because they're too old-fashioned," said Peterson. "They're based on the old school of trust -- diplomacy, mutual respect and transparency -- those things are gone." The bonds that once united friendly nations in the past have been "severely broken," he said, and reestablishing trust will be a great challenge. "Diplomacy is not personal, but we have certain individuals, leaders in the world now, who have made diplomacy personal. That then really makes it difficult to find solutions and to find a way to rectify differences."
Yahoo
27-04-2025
- Politics
- Yahoo
Gerald Ford and America's "moral obligation" to refugees
Fifty years ago, when the city of Saigon fell and the U.S. military intervention in Southeast Asia came to an end, President Gerald Ford faced a choice: Many anti-communist South Vietnamese feared forced relocation and political persecution at home, and looked to America for refuge. But the American public was bitterly divided over whether to accept such a large influx of refugees. At the time, Lesley Stahl reported on the "overwhelmingly hostile" mail received on Capitol Hill about the issue; one letter, from a Nebraska constituent, read, "They bring only disease, corruption, and apathy." The U.S. unemployment rate sat at nearly 9 percent, a post-World War II high. To many, bringing destitute Vietnamese to American shores seemed nonsensical. But President Ford saw the issue in stark moral terms: "There are tens of thousands of other South Vietnamese intellectuals, professors, teachers, editors, and opinion leaders who have supported the South Vietnamese cause and the alliance with the United States, to whom we have a profound moral obligation," he said. Ford ordered several airlifts to extract 130,000 South Vietnamese refugees and asylum-seekers. He signed into law a bill securing relocation aid and financial assistance. And he corralled a coalition of religious groups, southern Democratic governors, and labor leaders to secure their housing and employment. At first, many of the new refugees relied on public assistance and took low-paying jobs. But in the years that followed, most gained employment, and their reliance on government aid declined. They became small business owners and pillars of community … contributors large and small to the American tapestry. Among them: federal judges, a Pulitzer-winning novelist, and even an Oscar-winning actor. "My journey started on a boat," said "Everything Everywhere All at Once" star Ke Huy Quan. "I spent a year in a refugee camp, and somehow I ended up here, on Hollywood's biggest stage." Ford's decision to welcome these refugees wasn't just the right thing to do – it was smart. He realized that in a nation of immigrants like ours, strength derives in large part from diversity. His leadership showed compassion, political courage, and moral clarity … qualities our leaders could use today more than ever. For more info: Presidential historian Douglas Brinkley Story produced by Robert Marston. Editor: Lauren Barnello. See also: Remembering the fall of Saigon ("Sunday Morning")Surviving the torturous hell of the Hanoi Hilton ("Sunday Morning")The singer who spoke her mind to Richard Nixon ("Sunday Morning")The improbable true story behind "The Greatest Beer Run Ever" ("Sunday Morning")A Vietnam veteran's epic poem of war ("Sunday Morning")A very personal "thank you for your service" ("Sunday Morning")Mark Bowden on Vietnam War's "tragic and meaningless waste" ("Sunday Morning")The lost platoon: Aftermath ("Sunday Morning")How a tagged-and-bagged soldier was saved from the dead ("Sunday Morning")The girl in the picture ("Sunday Morning")Vietnam orphans search for their roots ("Sunday Morning")Re-viewing the legacy of LBJ ("Sunday Morning") Saturday Sessions: Goose performs "Thatch" Saturday Sessions: Goose performs "Give It Time" Who will be the next pope? Some of the top possible candidates
Yahoo
26-04-2025
- Politics
- Yahoo
Vietnam POW's South Dakota homecoming
SIOUX FALLS, S.D. (KELO) — Some of the most vivid images of the Vietnam War included the emotional return of American prisoners of war held captive by North Vietnam. The scene unfolded multiple times in South Dakota during the course of the war. Air Force Colonel Leo Thorsness arrived at the Sioux Falls airport in 1973 after spending six years in the notorious North Vietnamese prison known as the Hanoi Hilton. By then, the recipient of the Congressional Medal of Honor was already planning a career in politics. Hibachi Grill open for business amid federal investigation 'My goal is to someday be a senator for the state of South Dakota. I'm going to be working awfully hard just a few weeks after being out of the military, the first time I'll have the opportunity to talk politics,' Thorsness said in 1973. During his captivity, Thorsness' wife joined other military spouses across the country in a letter-writing campaign calling on North Vietnam to release all American POW's. 'All we want is the return of our husbands and sons, we represent no radical elements,' Gaylee Thorsness said in 1970. The fate of American POWs was also a priority in Congress. 'I don't think we can use the prisoner of war issue as a political football. I think too many politicians are doing that nowadays. Our objective should be to try to bring them home, instead of just talking about them,' Rep. Jim Abourezk, (D), South Dakota, said in 1971. Air Force Lt. Colonel Willis Forby returned home in 1973 after spending 7 and a half years as a prisoner of war. 'Five of those years, no one knew he was a prisoner; he was listed as missing in action.' 'I think the most important thing that kept up my strength and courage was just keeping faith in God and my country, the United States of America,' Forby said in 1973. That same year, a new POW-MIA flag was raised for the first time over the South Dakota Capitol in Pierre. A daily reminder of the many Americans who still had yet to come home. Leo Thorsness would go onto pursue that career in politics, including unsuccessful campaigns against Senator George McGovern and Congressman Tom Daschle. He later moved to Washington state, where he served in the state legislature. Thorsness died in 2017. Copyright 2025 Nexstar Media, Inc. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed.
